Ok, this is a take on episode 23, if you'll remember. When Italy called Germany up complaining about being in bed with Romano and all that pervy stuff. Yeeeeeeeah...I just had to. Anyway...good or bad, I love all comments. They make my day. Also a random thought...and sorry for the silliness before such a smutty story (which is all I've been able to write recently...I'm a perv...) what would happen if you told Italy about pastafarianism? If you don't know what that is...look it up. Alright. Enjoy the smut! (Oh, and I do not own Hetalia)

"Oh, I was waiting for you Germany." Italy chirped, sitting up in bed next to his brother Romano. A hair knot. That's what the Italian had been talking about on the phone? Germany smacked himself mentally for thinking such dirty things. Really. They were brothers. He looked over the situation with a sigh and walked towards the bed to help the brothers.

"Get away from us potato bastard!" The older Italian hissed, throwing the nearest object, which for some reason was a shoe, at the German. As the shoe hit Germany square in the face, the man turned around and headed for the door. Though he hated to admit it, he needed help on this one. As he left he heard Italy yelling a lot, switching between asking where Germany was going, and yelling at his brother for being mean. Germany ignored the two, picked up his phone and began to dial.

"Hola." The Spaniard greeted from the other end of the line.

"Spain, I need your help."

"Bastardo! I thought you lef- TOMATO bastard? What are you doing here?" Romano screeched as Spain followed Germany into the bedroom. The two Italians were still seated on the bed, working at the stubborn knot in their hair curls.

"Be nice fratello!" Italy admonished. Romano just swore quietly in Italian.

"LOVI!" Spain shouted, settling himself down on the bed next to the elder Italian and throwing his arms jubilantly around him. Romano balked.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TOMATO BASTARD?" Romano pushed violently at Spain's shoulders, trying desperately to be released from the embrace.

"I'm only here to help, Lovi." Spain pouted.

"Then help already, dammit!" Spain, keeping one arm tight around Romano to hold him still, moved on hand up to begin work on the knot. Romano went rigid and let out a muffled "chigi" as Spain's hands made contact with his sensitive curl. Deciding he'd better help as well, Germany made his way to Italy's side of the bed and sat down, reaching out to help with the knot as well.

A few minutes later, German and Spain each had both hands up working on the knot. Germany was scowling. Because, Italy, unlike Romano who bit back his moans and tried to keep his distance from the Spaniard who was sitting way too close, did not hold back at all. He was pressed against the German, clinging tightly to the broad shoulders, mewling softly with every touch. As Germany's hands slipped and accidentally rubbed the entire length of the curl, Italy moaned loudly and moved even closer.

"Sorry." The German apologized. Damn Italian curls.

Finally, finally, after almost half an hour the knot was undone. As soon as his curl was released, a very flushed Romano burst away from Spain, while Italy collapsed against Germany's chest panting. Spain smirked predatorily, and, before Romano could react, threw the darker haired Italian over his shoulder, ignoring the fists pounding his back.

'Well, amigo, I'd better get Lovi home." Spain chirped. "Have fun~" With that he left, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving Germany and Italy alone together.

"W-well." Germany stammered. "I'd better get back to-" His words were cut off as a very hot and bothered Italian jumped him, tackling him backwards onto the bed and pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Germany was shocked. He'd never expected the Italian to be so...agressive. After a moment passed by, Germany kissed back tentatively. Italy was tickled pink, and pressed his tongue against Germany's bottom lip, begging for entrance. Germany refused, but the Italian was not ready to give up. He ran his hand up the front of Germany's shirt, popping buttons and lifting up the tank underneath, exposing and groping firm abs. Germany gasped and Italy pluged his tongue into the larger man's mouth. Italy explored Germany's mouth a bit, before Germany began to fight for dominance. He was surprised to find he couldn't dominate Italy. The Italian was too far gone to surrender, and eventually they had to part for air.

Italy peppered kisses up and down Germany's neck, biting down a few times, as he removed the man's clothing. Germany began to protest when his pants and boxers were tossed aside, but Italy's hand on his length stopped him. He moaned happily as Italy touched him, allowing the smaller man to have his way. Italy then began to remove his own clothes and Germany watched him eagerly. As soon as he was undressed, Italy pressed fingers to Germany's mouth. Germany was confused but began to suck the fingers anyway, as of right now he was so wrapped around the Italian's fingers, he'd have walked off a cliff if it had been asked of him

Once he felt the fingers were properly slick, Italy began to prepare himself. Germany growled impatiently as he watched the Italian stretch his entrance, finger fucking himself and moaning out Germany's name. In retaliation for the torture he pulled that damn curl into his mouth and sucked. Itay moaned and quit with the stalling, positioning himself over Germany.

He lowered himself slowly onto the German's erection, pressing heated kisses to the other man's lips and neck as he did so. He whined a bit in pain and waited a moment as the larger man was fully inside of him, before setting off at a decent pace. He rolled his hips over the German's, trailing his hands over the other man's chest as he did so. Germany thrust upwards as Italy rode him, searching for that one spot...

"Ah! GERMANY!" Italy cried, throwing his head back. There it was. Italy's prostate. Germany smirked and took his chance to flip them over, pinning Italy's wrists above his head. Italy whimpered and wrapped his legs around the German's waist. Germany thrust into him faster and faster, both of them moaning and Italy writhing, trying to free his writs, to no avail. He finally clenched some of the bed sheets between his fingers, and tilted his head to the side. Mewling, moaning and occasionally screaming as he was overcome with pleasure.

Italy came without even needing Germany to touch him. He bucked his hips upwards, screaming out his lovers name, his eyes screwing shut. Germany thrust into the Italian a few more times before he came as well, moaning out Italy's name and collapsing on top of him, wave after wave of pleasure washing of the men. Damn Italian curls, Germany thought as he panted against Italy's neck. Damn Italian curls.