It all started when Italy's voice first cracked and he became too old and too tall for the green, cleaning gowns.

These… overwhelming feelings… Hungary explained to him with an even, benevolent tone… were perfectly natural. His body was starting to mature and there was no shame (in theory) in exploring.

But did… THIS… happen to everyone? Or was he… unnatural?

There had been a pretty girl he met on the street. She was very pretty with long-lashed, copper-colored eyes and a quirky smile and an impressive and effortless air about her as she reciprocated his flirtations. In his mind's eye that evening, Italy imagined kissing her—on her upturned, red lips, on her sweet, pale neck. While sitting on the edge of his mattress, he felt the bulge between his legs harden further and tucked his hands into his pants, stroking it vigorously. As Italy felt something sweltering and ohsowonderful build at each stroke on himself, he felt something else: fear.

When whatever had been building inside him for several minutes at last poured from him, spurting warm and concealed between his trembling fingers in his right hand— with his left hand, a panting and terror-stricken Italy found himself waving a white flag that had mysteriously appeared in it, pleading in Italian, under his breath for his life.

How had this come to be? And WHY? Didn't Hungary tell him that these feelings he was experiencing were not worrisome?

From then on, he did not repeat this ritual as a form of 'abstinence'. But flirting seemed innocent enough and didn't make him to act like -THAT-. Italy was content for flirting for the rest of his life.


After being 'abstinent' for so long… namely hundreds and hundreds of years later… Italy managed to regain a normal existence, forgetting about this inescapable fear and why it had even started.



At the next breathless giggle and unintelligible murmur of euphoria, Germany said gently to him with a composed expression above his sprawled and half-naked form on the cot: "Sei ruhig...". He touched their mouths together with a similarly gentle motion— as if certain that his lover would shatter if approached too roughly. Italy keened into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the blond's neck, and riding with the slow, fluid thrusts and the soft, inelegant slapping of their bare skin colliding. As the thrusts quickened, the Italian's arms began tightening and his giggles disappeared.


At the moan made, Germany gave a satisfied grunt, pushing deeper for that sensitive spot rooted inside Italy. He knew he must have brushed it when the brunet cried out, bucking against him harder. Italy's flushing face was... somewhat cute... alright, it was more than cute... Germany thought quietly; after all, he wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't attracted to him... a lot.

"Ah... ah... I..."

It didn't take much longer before his own orgasm hit him. The large, calloused hand clenched to the back of Italy's head slipped away and squeezed almost painfully into a fist on the sheets. His other hand pumping his lover kept a fast rhythm as waves of pleasure ebbed and twisted his stomach and veins. Italy was not too far behind.

"I... I'm..."

A twitch. An adorable yelp. And then very warm, white liquid coursed between Germany's fingers. He patiently shook most of the remnants free, even taking a moment to curiously lick those ends of his fingers still sticky— only to find that he did not particularly find the taste appetizing. Leben für dich...

"Wahhhh! I'msorryimsorryimsorry!" Italy began sobbing loudly, looking ridiculous due to the fact that he was both covered in come and frantically waving a decent-sized, white flag in both hands.

...the hell?... a flag?

"Uh..." Germany hesitated, reaching out to awkwardly pat his trembling head. "...it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. So. Uh. You can stop apologizing."

The flag stilled.

Italy's big brown eyes sparkled with tears; with another (hopefully, less panicked) wail, he hugged himself to Germany's waist, nuzzling his face into the thick fabric of the green uniform. After a moment of listening to his muffled laments, the blond let a tired sigh escape him, and rubbed Italy's back. No one said relationships were easy. Especially with someone like his pasta-loving twerp.



Hetalia isn't mine or Germany or Italy or Hungary or Italy's white flags that are naturally occurring from thin air. Prompt was: "Whenever Italy orgasms, he pulls out a white flag and does the whole surrendering thing. I don't care if it's in the middle of sexytimes, masturbation, or what, but I NEED THIS ANONS." Bwahahaha~ Thank you much for reading, everyone. A review would be LOOOOOO~OOOOVE~LY!

Translations (corrected by Lussia):

Sei ruhig: German for politely saying 'Shut up'

Leben für dich: German for 'That is life for you'