He couldn't believe he had come here, of his own free will of all things! To this disgusting club, bodies rocking together out on the dance floor, unhindered by their conscience due to the variety of alcoholic beverages being passed around.

No, Roderich couldn't fathom why he had agreed to come along to this dance hall of disease. Poor decisions were often made in places like this, though, if he indulged in himself, then he'd realize that he had already made a bad decision.

A pale hand landing on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts and he looked up at one smirking Gilbert Beilschmidt. Annoyance ran through the Austrian's violet eyes, which only added more delight to the Prussian's grin.

"Why are you sitting over here by yourself? Too chicken to dance?" he sneered at the pianist. Roderich felt the insane need to slap that smirk from the albino man.

"Frankly, after what happened the last time we went out 'just for a drink,' I have every right to want to stay in this booth until you're so piss-drunk that I can just drop you off at your brother's house and have you out of my hair for a twenty-four hour period." the brunette stated, frowning as he picked at the shirt he had been tricked into wearing.

It was a simple white shirt, but that wasn't what bothered him. What did bother him was the western style of the shirt, which forced him to go without his cravat. Another thing that annoyed him about it was that it was heavy enough that he couldn't wear his coat without roasting, but light enough that the barest air that came across his neck made his hair stand on end... Or was that the Prussian's hot breath on his neck?

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Roderich asked stiffly. A chortle from the other man made his defenses raise another few notches.

"I'm trying to get you to dance with me... Once dance and we'll go," Gilbert promised. Roderich looked his frenemy over, unable to deny that, with the sheen of sweat on his body and the way the tight jeans and matching shirt, Gilbert looked attractive. He was without his iron cross for once, just trying to be casual for the night and it was making Roderich wish his own pants were a bit looser.

"Alright," he acquiesced, if only to get out of this horrid club where the screech that was coming from the speakers—music to everyone else—was giving him a headache. He took the paler man's hand, allowing him to pull him to the dance floor.

It was just his rotten luck that the heavy bass of the popular Canadian band flowed through the speakers. Clearly Matthew had gotten more than a few traits from France.

You know there's a dirty word
Never gonna say it first
No, it's just a thought
That never crosses my mind

Gilbert's back suddenly turned on the brunette before a pair of long, pale arms wrapped around his neck. He began to panic, not only from his body's lack of negative response, but because his arms moved to wrap around the albino's waist. "More eager than you let on, aren't you?" Gilbert asked, letting his head fall back onto the Austrian's shoulder as his hips rolled backwards.

Roderich spluttered out a reply, his glasses slipping down slightly. One hand left his neck and fingered Mariazell atop his head, making his words, or whatever he was babbling, morph into moans.

"S'okay... I know it's 'cause I'm awesome," Gilbert said cheekily.

Maybe in the parking lot
Better bring your friend along
Better rock together
Than just one at a time

"G-Gilbert, what are you trying to accomplish aside from embarrassing the ever-living daylight out of me?" Roderich spat out, trying to hide his moans. His eyes were narrowed, cheeks were flushed from both arousal and embarrassment, and Gilbert's infuriating grin wasn't helping matters.

"Getting you in the mood, of course," he said, rocking his hips again at the same time that a pale finger slid along the length of the curl, starting from the base and going up to the very tip. "I'm sure there's something else on you that I can stroke like this, hm?"

"Nngh, s-shut up," the Austrian said, finding himself clinging to Gilbert more just to keep from falling down onto the floor where God knows what kinds of bodily fluids were stained.

S is for the simple need
E is for the ecstasy
X is just to mark the spot
'Cause that's the one you really want

"Make me, ya chicken..." Gilbert teased. His eyes went wide when he was suddenly spun around a pair of soft lips attacked his own. His own groan left him, his hands tangling in brown strands as he thrust his hips to meet his lover's.

Roderich pulled back a few moments later, panting heavily and looking at him. "This is the wrong place for this," he muttered when pale lips trekked down his neck.

"So not what you were implying a few moments ago... You totally wanted to claim me out here in the open, to fuck me into the floor while everyone watched," Gilbert said into his ear, licking the shell of it slowly. The whimper he got for it was rewarding enough.

Yes, sex is always the answer, it's never a question
'Cause the answer's yes, oh the answer's yes
Not just a suggestion, if you ask a question
Then it's always yes, yeah

"Let's get the hell out of here," Gilbert whispered. It was not a question, nor a suggestion. It was a command. Roderich nodded, clutching his partner's head by his hair and dragged him down for another brutal kiss.

When they parted, they were scrambling outside and into Roderich's car, seeing as the brunette had the foresight to see that alcohol and Gilbert were magnetically attracted to one another.

Once in the car, Roderich had to slap Gilbert's hands away from him left and right. "No, if you don't stop, we'll crash," he said. Gilbert smirked, loosening up his seat belt before he slid down to relax... Or so it would seem.

Instead, he reached a hand over, gripping his lover's crotch, palming him through the pants he chose to wear. "Nngh! D-Damnit, Prussia!" Roderich shouted, swerving the car dangerously close to on-coming traffic.

He slammed on the breaks as soon as his house was in front of the car, throwing it into park, wrestled the keys out and got out of the car, all while Gilbert wondered why he, for once, had been the one to obey the seat belt rule while the stuffy Austrian hadn't.

They both nearly raced for the door, Roderich smirking at Gilbert as he made his way inside the unlocked home and began to strip himself of his shirt and pants.

I'm loving what you wanna wear
I wonder what's up under there
Wonder if I'll ever have it
Under my tongue

He didn't get far after his pants were off before he was slammed to the wall, his hips held hostage as the Prussian's lips lavished attention to his body, groaning as his hair was pulled by the pianist's hands.

"W-we're not going to make it to the bedroom, are we?" Roderich asked, moaning when those talented lips wrapped around him through the fabric of the thong he had put on as a surprise to his lover.

"Hell no," Gilbert said, before he paused thoughtfully. "Well, maybe eventually..."

I'll love to try to set you free
I love you all over me
Love to hear the sound you make
The second you're done

Roderich gasped again, his mouth full of Gilbert's unique taste as the albino man stood up and kissed him soundly, bringing him impossibly closer.

Their positions were flipped with the Prussian pressed to the wall, the musically-inclined nation all but shredded the clothes that the albino was wearing, smirking against his neck when he heard the whining moan from the male.

S is for the simple need
E is for the ecstasy
X is just to mark the spot
'Cause that's the one you really want

Gilbert rolled his hips forward into Roderich's, almost pleading. "Roddy, stop fucking teasing me!" he gasped out, especially when Roderich denied his rotation of the hips in search of pleasure.

Roderich smirked, moving his glasses back up before licking his neck. "Oh, I'll be fucking you alright..." he muttered, moving his hand down to grip well-bragged about five meters.

Yes, sex is always the answer, it's never a question
'Cause the answer's yes, oh the answer's yes
Not just a suggestion, if you ask a question
Then it's always yes

"Nngh! Yes!" he gasped out as he was massaged. "S-so good! Roderich, please!" Roderich chuckled a bit, nibbling at the succulent skin beneath his lips.

"Please what, Gilbert? Use your words," Roderich whispered, sucking at his neck. Gilbert's spread legs and the hand massaging his own cock was just about all the answer he needed.

S is for the simple need
E is for the ecstasy
X is just to mark the spot
'Cause that's the one you really want

Pulling back, he pushed the thong down, shimmying it down his legs. "You sure?" he asked.

"God damnit, Roderich, if you ask that every time I bottom, I'll just give up and fuck you into the—Mein Gott!" he cut himself off as Roderich thrust into his pre-stretched hole, glad he had done that in the bathroom at the club.

The pace was fast and hard, everything that seemed so odd for Roderich. Usually, they were slow and gentle when the brunette topped.

"Nngh, yes! Roderich, more!" the Prussian shouted, wrapping his legs around the other's waist as his hands gripped usually stiff shoulders tightly, leaving bruises.

Yes, sex is always the answer, it's never a question
'Cause the answer's yes, oh, the answer's yes
Not just a suggestion, if you ask a question
Then it's always yes, yeah

"Damnit... S-stop gripping me so hard!" Roderich snapped the same time he found his lover's prostate, simultaneous shouts leaving them as their orgasm washed over them.

Slouching against the other, pressing him hard into the wall, the Austrian personification panted, Mariazell ever defying gravity and glasses just barely on the end of his nose. Despite the slight romantic air of the moment, Gilbert's lips quirked into a lop-sided grin.

Yes, sex is always the answer, it's never a question
'Cause the answer's yes, oh, the answer's yes
Not just a suggestion, if you ask a question
Then it's always yes

"What is it?" Roderich snapped, squeaking as he was lifted up into Gilbert's arms and carried to their room where, doubtlessly, there was a full night of sex ahead of them.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...


"Nngh..." Roderich shifted as he woke up, readying himself for the usual pain-in-the-ass that came with spending a night with the Prussian, whether it be literally or figuratively. However, he was met with neither.

Frowning, he grabbed his glasses and swung out of the bed, grabbing his robe from the poster at the end of the bed as he strode out of the room. Just as he tied it around around his waist, he had the feeling he was being watched.

Slowly, he turned his head, meeting the shocked stares of both Arthur and Alfred, the former dressed like him while Alfred simply wore his American Flag boxers.

"...I'm in the wrong house, aren't I?" Roderich asked.

"Yes, we are... Fortunately, they don't mind... In fact, after round five, we started a contest on who could scream louder, me or Alfred," Gilbert said nonchalantly, wearing a towel around the waist.



"Oi, bastardo, your demon spawn demand some tomatoes," Lovino growled, kicking his lover out of the bed they shared. When the Spaniard continued to sleep, he sighed and got out of bed, pulling his nightshirt on and heading for the kitchen, rubbing his swollen stomach almost affectionately.

"Just don't turn out like your bastard father, ok?" he murmured before biting into a tomato, satisfying not only his stomachache from not eating earlier that morning and the craving.

"Ve, fratello, where do you keep the pasta noodles?" Feliciano's voice asked.

"Hn... In the cupboard, of course," Lovino snapped, the words not really registering in his head. He turned suddenly, pointing at the younger Italian. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

"Ve... Visiting and making pasta," Feliciano said, as if it were obvious, his smile too bright for Lovino's liking. If it wasn't for the fact that his younger were pregnant, like him, he'd probably kick him out of the house.

As it was, he settled for slapping him upside the back of the head before waddling out of the room and to the living room, an armful of tomatoes in his arms. Maybe some television would brighten his mood.

However, before he could reach for the remote, he heard a familiar giggle coming from the kitchen and jumped to his feet, storming in. "Get away from my brother, you damned potato bastard!" he snapped at Ludwig. His eyes narrowed when not only was Ludwig there, but that albino brother of his was as well, along with that damned wine bastard.

"Ve, isn't it great, fratello?" Feliciano gushed, giggling when he felt Ludwig's hand on his stomach, as if to feel the baby moving. "Gilbert's gonna have a bambino too!"

"Great, sure, what the fuck ever," Lovino growled, not really hearing it. "Get your hands off of him! Haven't you already fucked him up enough?" he snapped at Ludwig. He turned to look at Francis, glowering at the blond that tried to get closer to his brother. "And you! If you so much as THINK about touching him, you'll wish you had been born a girl in the first place!"

He calmed significantly when he felt arms wrapping around his distended middle, rubbing soothing circles to stop the babies' frantic movements at their mother's distress.

Antonio, unlike anyone else in the house, was nude but no one seemed bothered by it, attention elsewhere. "Hm... Guess Francis lost the bet, si?" he asked.

It got quiet, even Feliciano had stopped talking to stare at Gilbert, whose face was red.

"I told you he bottomed. That facade is just to throw people off." Antonio said with an easy grin.

Francis' eyes were dark as he forked over the cash that he owed the Spaniard.


Mein Gott = German, "My God,"

Bastardo = Italian, "Bastard,"

Fratello = Italian, "Brother,"

Bambino = Italian, "Baby,"

Si = Spanish, "Yes,"