GerIta... Or ItaGer, technically (because Italy is Italian, for god's sake!)... Check!
I swear this wasn't supposed to turn into carsmex. Really. And I swear it wasn't supposed to be so fluffy either. But... Yeah, things happen...
And now onto my stupid UKUS ficlet that doesn't want to be written!
I don't own Hetalia.
To be honest, I am still not exactly sure how we ended up like this. And to be more honest, I am a tad bit scared because of that. I am always the calculating one, the cold rationalist. I'm not supposed to let feelings get the better of me. Especially not feelings of want or lust. Especially not feelings of affection or love. But as stated multiple times, Italians are the best lovers. And very determined lovers, as it would seem...
I made a mistake when I agreed to go to the bar with Italy. We'd been out before, but all these times both our older brothers hadn't unexpectedly been there. I have to say, Prussia and Romano always make everything worse. It started with the elder Italian, of course.
'What are you doing with my brother, you potato bastard?'
I should have ignored him, but I chose to reply with an I could ask you the same.
'I am doing nothing with your damn brother,' Romano replied, shooting an angry glare in the direction of the man in question. Prussia laughed loudly and said: 'We just ran into each other, right? So we decided to have fun!'
'We did no such thing! You just decided to go and fucking stalk me!'
'Define stalking,' my brother smirked. 'This is a public place, you know. I have every right to be here.'
'You're just following my ass around!'
Another cocky smirk. 'Exactly. Your ass.'
I think it is self-explanatory that this argument did not end well. Both Prussia and Romano ended up being removed from the bar and Italy, being Italy, decided to follow them as they went to look for another place to get drunk. And I, being Germany, decided to follow Italy to protect him from danger - and then I mainly mean my brother and himself.
In either way, our brothers found another bar and somehow got the idea of having a drinking competition. I tried to argue that this was a stupid plan, but as usual, neither of them listened.
Wasn't I the youngest one here? Why was I always the one looking after the others? I sighed, hoping my brother would meet some pretty lady or gentleman - he didn't seem to mind, maybe he'd spent too much time with France - and go home with them so I wouldn't have to carry him to his bed.
I turned. 'Italy,' I said, 'what is it?'
The Italian shuffled his feet on the ground. 'Can we play a game too? Like our brothers?' He motioned at Romano and Prussia, who were currently yelling at each other. They were sure to get removed and banned from this bar as well if they kept this up. I massaged my temples. This was truly too much for me to take.
'I'm sorry Italy, I can't play a game with you.'
'Oh,' he said with a sad face. But then his amber eyes brightened. 'Ve, I'll just go join fratello and Prussia!'
I mumbled in reply, not really paying attention. The music was too loud, the bar too crowded, the air too hot and humid. I decided to go outside for a while, to clear my head. I worked my way through the crowd and finally burst out the door after a long struggle, into the cool night air. The street was crowded as well - it was a Saturday night, a lot of people were out - but at least there was enough breathing space for me.
After some minutes out on the street, I realized the situation I'd left inside. Frantically, I turned to go back to my brother and both Italies. I slammed into several people on my way, but I had no time for apologies. No one could be left alone with Prussia, and certainly not Italy. My brother, as much as I love him, is a danger for anyone near him.
It took even more time to get back in again than it took to get out. All in all, I think I'd been gone for about thirty minutes. Unfortunately, that seemed to be long enough for things to go disastrous. Prussia was slouched over the table, barely conscious. He looked pretty beaten up, and judging by the triumphant smirk on South Italy's face, he was beaten up. The elder brother was leaning back in his chair contentedly, his eyes clouded with alcohol. And then there was North Italy. He was seated at the head of the table. His cheeks were rosy and the hand he waved in my direction was unstable. I frowned. Who to take care of first? Prussia? He was my brother. Or Italy? He was- Yes, what was Italy?
I shook my head. Prussia lifted his face from the table and looked around. He grunted when he saw Romano, but sat up nonetheless. That made the choice for me easier. Italy it was. I walked over to my friend and bent down next to him.
'Hiiii,' he slurred.
'Hallo,' I said, trying to keep my voice down so that Romano wouldn't hear me. Not that there was a big chance at that, since he was currently running away from my brother, who wanted to kiss him, as it would seem. 'How do you feel, Italy?'
'I feel great!' he answered happily. Then he tugged my jacket. 'You should have something to drink as well!'
'Ah, nein, danke. Italy, you should go home.'
'But fratello is still here.' He looked at Romano's empty seat. 'Ve, he was here, wasn't he?'
'He is here, Italy. But I'm sure he won't mind if we leave now. He's, ah, having fun with Prussia.'
'Germany is coming with me?'
I closed my eyes and answered, 'Rather, you're coming with Germany.'
He laughed drunkenly and wrapped his arms around my neck. 'Germanyyyyy!' the Italian whined. 'Carry meeeeee!' I sighed and said I couldn't. Surprisingly, my friend didn't press it further, but let go of my neck and scrambled to his feet. 'I'll walk myself, capitano!' he said determinedly, bringing his hand to his head in a salute. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, but otherwise seemed fine. I couldn't stop a smile from appearing on my face.
'Come on, Italy, let's get you home.' I began the long way towards the exit again. Prussia and Romano would have to take care of themselves. They couldn't, but that was their own fault, I'd decided long ago.
'Are we going to Germany's home?' Italy asked from behind me.
'Yay! I love Germany's home! It's so cleaaaaaaaaaaaan and tidyyyyyyyyyy!' He started singing "cleaaaaaaaaaaaan and tidyyyyyyyyyy" to no particular melody as we reached the door and stumbled outside.
'Cleaaaaaaaaaaaan and tidyyyyyyyyyy, tidyyyyyyyyyy and CLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!'
I asked him to stop, but he didn't. Instead he started a new couplet, completely dedicated to pasta. He seemed unaware of the stares we were getting from passersby, but I tried to drag him out of the most crowded area as soon as possible, and back to his car. I'd have to drive, even though we'd agreed that he'd be the designated driver. I shoved the Italian into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. That drowned out his singing for a few seconds. I savoured the relative silence before opening the other door and sitting down in the driver's seat. Italy miraculously stopped singing. I started the engine and we drove in silence for some time.
We were driving through practically the middle of nowhere when Italy asked me to stop.
'Why?' I asked.
'Just stop,' he answered, and that's all he said. We were a long way from my home still, so I pulled over and stopped at the side of the small country road. We could see the highway, on the other side of the fields. It was filled with lights.
'Germany,' Italy said, 'pull out the ignition key.' He sounded serious for once, not drunk at all. I did what he said, intrigued, then looked at him and saw a glimmer in his eyes.
And suddenly he jumped on me and started kissing me roughly - roughly, I'd never expect that from him. I couldn't back away, and, really, I didn't want to. Italy was a good kisser. His lips slid over mine with unexpected but not unwelcome ferocity. He tasted not one bit like alcohol, which I found odd. Hadn't he been drunk out of his mind thirty minutes ago?
He pulled away, gripping the top of my shirt. 'Ve, Germany,' he said, and my mind almost exploded because how did he manage to sound so innocent when he wore that look, 'you're no fun. You're supposed to kiss back, you know.'
'I was o-overwhelmed,' I stuttered. Then I slightly regained my composure and asked him, 'Italy, are you drunk?'
He smiled. 'No. Never was.' I had no time to let this information sink in before he slammed his lips into mine again and I started moving with him. I closed my eyes and put a hand on the man's waist, pulling him closer. Our bodies moulded together and the Italian deepened the kiss. I shivered at the things he did with his tongue when I met it with my own and buried my other hand in his soft hair.
Again, he pulled away. He smiled deviously - oh Gott, that smile - and rolled his hips on my lap. Once, twice. I grunted and gritted my teeth. Had this been his plan? Had he been planning this? Is this why he even asked me to go out? I tried to voice these questions, but the Italian kissed my neck and suddenly all words were lost and unnecessary.
He laughed quietly, a wonderful sound, before moving down a bit, pushing away the fabric of my shirt and sucking on my collarbone. I had the presence of mind to push back my chair so that we had more space. Italy hummed in appreciation and hot fingers found their way underneath my shirt, pushing it up so that my stomach was revealed. He kissed my lips again as he pushed the clothing all the way up and, honestly, I melted into a puddle of bliss at that. I hated myself for letting my control go, but my body had taken over my brain and my body couldn't care less. And we were in a car, verdammt, and we shouldn't be doing this, I should do something about it, but Italy - Italy was doing things that I'd really never expected from him. And they were good. So I kissed back.
He let out a small happy noise against my mouth as his hands roamed my body. His slender fingers tickled my abdomen teasingly and he rolled his hips again. I moaned - I moaned - and broke apart from the Italian to gasp for breath. Italy used this to slide my shirt over my head and look at me admiringly. I felt like I was blushing.
'Germany, don't go all red now!' Italy laughed. Then he turned serious again. 'You're beautiful.'
Great, I actually was blushing. And I blushed even harder at the compliment. I turned my head away, looking at the lights of the highway.
'Don't turn away,' he said. 'I want to see your eyes.' I looked back at my friend reluctantly.
He's Italy, I decided. He smiled a bright smile at me. 'See, Germany? Much better like this.' The man frowned and thought for a few seconds. Then his eyes lit up and he reached out his hand to a point behind me. I felt the backrest tilt.
'Italy?' I asked quietly. He hummed in reply and looked at me. 'Italy, what i- Why d- Why are you doing this?'
'Because I want to,' he said, 'and I'm Italian.'
Very Italian, I wanted to say. Very Italian, and I love it. But he cut me off before I could start.
'Besides, your home might be clean and tidy, but your brother lives in the basement. I don't want him interrupting.'
I couldn't help but smile slightly at that. Italy smiled at my smile from his position on top of me. He was beautiful, with the dim light from the moon and the distant highway framing him from behind. I motioned for the man to come closer and when he did, I kissed him nervously. I slid my trembling hands under his shirt, just like he'd done before, and pushed the fabric away. He quickly disposed of the clothing himself and began kissing down my body. I closed my eyes in pleasure and stifled a moan when he started sucking on a nipple. I tangled my right hand in the Italian's hair and gripped the chair with my other one.
'Germany,' Italy mumbled, 'don't hold back.' He sucked harder and flicked the bud with his tongue. A wave of heat spread through my body and collected in my nether regions. My grip on both Italy's hair and the seat tightened and I grunted lowly. I felt Italy smile before moving to the other nipple. I encouraged him in his movements by, indeed, not holding back. Grunts, moans and frantic pants escaped my lips, and I was past embarrassment and caring.
It was wonderful, the pooling of heat in my groin as Italy went down slowly. He sucked, he kissed, he even bit my skin, before licking it gently. And every now and then, he'd look up at me with those glimmering eyes and smirk, and that was more of a turn-on than everything else combined.
Finally, after what seemed like an, albeit blissful, eternity, the Italian reached the waistband of my pants. He'd somehow managed to squeeze himself into the cramped space between the driver's seat and the steering wheel, between my legs. I propped myself up on my elbows to see what he was doing. I somewhat nervously watched him smile and nod his head at the bulge in my jeans. He pushed my legs apart as far as they could in the small space and started nuzzling my clothed erection with his nose.
'Mein Gott, Italy!' I choked out. My elbows gave out and I lay down on my back. Italy started unbuckling my belt and undid the button and zipper of my jeans soon after. With difficulty, he pulled the garment down to my shins. I moved my feet and managed to get one shoe off. Italy took off the other shoe and dragged my pants off as well. He touched me through my boxers and I let out an impossible sound - it was almost a whimper. But, damn it, I was still Germany, I would not be reduced to whimpering.
Italy laughed quietly and kissed the inside of my thighs. A hand slid underneath my underwear. It went up, up, up... And then Italy was holding me and it felt wonderful. I let out a sigh and wanted to move into the touch, but the Italian stopped my movements with a hand on my knee. Then I remembered the confined space he was already in - we were already in - and I shuffled back a bit.
Italy stroked me slowly and I could do nothing but close my eyes and moan his name. And, yes, we were in a car on a public road and, yes, this was wrong but, Gott, did I love that man and his devious hand.
'Hm, Germany,' the Italian hummed contentedly. His nimble fingers pressed down on my dick, searching sensitive points. I felt it twitch in eager anticipation. Lifting myself again, I saw Italy's head pop up from inbetween my legs, a smile on his face. I didn't think he'd ever stop smiling. He used his elbows to haul himself up, planting them on my legs painfully. I grunted, but forgot all about it when the Italian tugged my underwear down a bit and took out my erection. I grunted again, but this time in pleasure.
I couldn't tear my gaze away from Italy as he moistened his lips and kissed the tip of my cock. I felt a sweat drop roll down my forehead. Then Italy's tongue darted out and dragged itself along the underside of my member. My breath hitched in my throat as a heatwave spread through my whole body. I trembled under Italy's touch. He kept licking and kissing teasingly for a while, before sitting up a bit straighter and slowly - slowly sliding his lips around me. It was then that I closed my eyes, even though I wanted to watch him, wanted to see the movements of his head and the hollowing of his cheeks.
I lay back down and let the feelings wash over me. Italy proved his grandfather's song true, he was an excellent lover. He found all the right spots, his hands stroked just the right places on my legs, abdomen, Gott, everywhere. He was all over me, in little touches, light strokes, feathery fingers tickling sensitive skin. And there were sounds - moans, whimpering, low grunts - and it took me some time to realize I was the one making them.
The heat started gathering in my groin, building up tension. It became unbearable all at once, and I came undone. I think I cried out, but I can't know for sure. I do know that I arched my back and saw white explode in front of my closed eyes. I gasped for breath as I spilled myself into Italy's mouth. He kept sucking until I was completely worn out and satisfied. Then he removed himself with a pop that I might've found disgusting in any other situation, but couldn't care less about now. I brought up my arm and put it over my eyes tiredly. I stayed like that for a while. Then I felt Italy wriggle out of his small space and clamber onto me. I removed my arm and looked at him.
'Hey Germany,' he smiled as he straddled my stomach. I smiled back weakly. 'You enjoyed that, didn't you?' I groaned at his boldness.
'Yes, you did.' He leaned down to kiss the tip of my nose. 'That's good, Germany!' He kissed my lips. It was too short to my liking. 'But, but, I want to do a lot of other things with you as well!'
'Italy,' I sighed, 'not here. We are in a car, Dummkopf.'
He chuckled. A rare sound, coming from him. Then he tilted his head and listened. 'It's raining.' I nodded halfheartedly.
'Quiet now, Germany.' He looked at me with big eyes, but there was something in them that I had never seen before. I turned my gaze away, feeling my cheeks heating up. Italy captured my lips again, softly. He didn't move for a few seconds, then slid his tongue over my lips. I opened my mouth eagerly, meanwhile internally scolding myself. I let my control slip again.
Suddenly, Italy let go off me and clambered over to the passenger seat. I tried to sit up, but the Italian warned me to stay put. For some reason - okay, for a rather obvious reason, as my rapidly hardening cock told me - I obeyed and didn't as much as look what he was doing. Italy quickly returned and climbed on top of me again, looking very thoughtful.
'Ve, Germany,' he eventually said, 'this is kind of hard to fit... Maybe if we moved to the passenger seat.' And he slid off again, pulled back the other seat and motioned at me to come over. Again, I obeyed.
'Sì,' Italy said with a smile when I was lying down comfortably, 'much better like that.' With that, he leaned down for another kiss. After a while, he pulled away and, catching his breath, he crawled down my body. He did not kiss this time. He half-stood in the, admittedly larger, space between the seat and the dashboard, supporting his weight with his knees on the chair. I looked up and saw him unbuttoning his expensive jeans and sliding them down. His underwear followed suit, and my underwear after that.
I looked. It was not like I'd never seen him naked before, but never - not that I could consciously remember anyway - had we been in such a compromising position. I'd imagined our first time to be different. Not in a car, for example. But alas, he was Italy, and he had quirks, and he was beautiful.
And he smiled at me, and I smiled back.
The rain started getting louder and I could swear I heard my phone buzzing in my pants' pocket, but my focus was on Italy and how he was opening a little package that he'd - do all Italians have condoms in their cars?
He slipped the condom on and smiled at me again. Then he produced a small bottle from somewhere and poured some of the content over his fingers. The Italian bent down, slipped his finger inbetween my butt cheeks and looked at me. I nodded, though I felt nervous. I wasn't a virgin, but this was Italy. I loved him.
It hit me. I loved him.
Italy carefully slipped one finger into me. He looked at me again, and I nodded again. The finger moved in further. It didn't hurt, but it felt intrusive. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain. Italy's other hand slowly traced patterns on my thigh. He kissed my abdomen and slowly slipped in a second finger.
'Are you alright, Germany?' he asked over the rain.
'Ja,' I croaked. I think he heard me, because the two fingers slowly started moving. I swallowed hard and panted. Italy kissed my stomach.
'Say it if it hurts. Okay?'
He kept thrusting into me with his fingers. The awkward feeling of intrusion was replaced by bliss when he hit a certain spot that made me see white. My body shook with pleasure and I moaned, opening my eyes. Italy did not touch that place again. Instead he pulled out his fingers. I frowned at him, but he was looking down in deep concentration.
I opened my mouth, but then there were three slick fingers pressing into me all at once. And onto that spot right away. I shuddered and moaned quietly. The rain was loud enough to overpower it. But Italy kept brushing over the bundle of nerves and I couldn't bite back louder moans. After a little while, the fingers left me. I whimpered - oh Gott, I whimpered - at the loss, but Italy bent down to silence me with a kiss.
'Okay Germany,' he said quietly, just loud enough to hear over a sudden thunderclap, 'don't be afraid to tell me if I hurt you.'
Somewhere deep in my mind, I realized how odd that sentence would sound at any point in our everyday lives. But I nodded. We locked eyes briefly, before Italy reverted his attention to the task at hand. I felt him put his lubed-up member in front of my entrance and felt him grab my hand. He pushed in slowly.
I screwed my eyes shut. Not because it hurt - albeit it did - but because I felt so full. It was overwhelming and fantastic.
When Italy was fully sheathed inside of me and our thighs were pressing together, I pulled his hand to get him closer. 'Italy,' I said.
'Yes?' he panted.
I opened my eyes again. 'I love you.'
He looked at me with a mixture of shock and happiness written on his flushed face. Then he kissed me happily and said: 'I love you too, Germany!' When he broke the kiss, he wasted no more time and started moving out of me. I grunted and gritted my teeth. He moved in again, and there was a bit of shifting before he hit my prostate.
'Yes,' I breathed. Italy sped up his movements. Every time he thrust into me, he hit that spot dead on. He slammed into it, and I felt heatwaves course through my body. We were rocking the car, I was sure of it. Our noised drowned out the rain, the windows were fogged up. If someone passed by now, we were dead. But of course I didn't think about that. I don't think I thought about anything. There was just me, Italy, and our desires.
Italy touched the head of my cock lightly, and that alone made me jerk back. More frantic moans, pants, and grunts left my mouth, mixed with mangled 'I love you's in every language I knew. Then his lithe hands were touching me, one on my member, the other everywhere else on my body. I bucked into his touch, trying to get more of it.
Heatwaves, everywhere he touched me, and they all went straight to my erection. One final thrust, one last jerk, and I came without warning. Italy thrust into me a few more times and then he came undone as well. He collapsed on top of my sweaty, sticky torso and pulled out. I shivered, trying to get used to the feeling.
The rain was still pounding onto the car. I wished I could go out to cool off and wash away, but I could not, with any decency, do that. Besides, this was not so bad. Italy was lying on my chest, murmuring incomprehensible sentences. After a while, the Italian got up and peeled the condom off. He then looked at it thoughtfully.
'What is it?'
'Ve, I don't know where to put this...'
'Ah, well, uh...'
'Ah!' Without any warning at all, he opened the car door and stepped into the night. Completely naked.
'You idiot!' I yelled, surprising myself with the energy I had left. 'Get back here, before you get sick, or worse, someone sees you!' Italy poked his head back in. He was soaked, but looked happy. It was so tempting to just go and join him... But no. I was a man of decency.
'You're forgetting I'm a nation,' Italy said, 'I won't get sick from the rain. And neither will you. Come on!' He started tugging my hand. 'Come out, Germany, come!'
'Nein, I'm- ' Oh, whatever, I decided in an uncharacteristic mood change. The rain felt pleasantly cooling when I stepped outside. 'But Italy, we're not going to stay here for long, and we're going home after that.'
'Yeah, yeah.' He skipped around happily, hair plastered to his forehead and face still flushed. I cracked a smile.
'Germany, time to go home!' the Italian announced after some time. Then he climbed back into his car. 'I'll drive now,' he shouted from inside. I was happy it was not my car, what with all the wetness inside. I followed Italy into the vehicle. He was buttoning up his jeans in the driver`s seat. I closed the door and searched for my clothes. It wasn't long before we were both dressed.
'Hey Germany,' Italy said. I looked at him. 'You look so cute when your hair is down!' He reached out to touch my hair. I let him. 'You look much less strict.'
'Germany?' His hand left my hair.
'May I kiss you?'
What a silly thing to ask now. 'Of course you may,' I answered. Italy pulled me into a tender, loving kiss. I tasted raindrops on his lips and his tongue.
'I love you, Germany,' he said when he pulled away. 'I'm sorry I went extreme... Right away. Italian nature, I guess?'
'I-It's alright,' I answered. I felt myself blush. 'I love you as well.'
'We're lovers now!' Italy announced. I felt myself blush harder. 'And now it's time to go home. I know the way, Germany, don't be afraid.' He winked at me, slid the seat back into its original position, retrieved the ignition key, fastened his seat belt and started the engine. I slid the passenger seat back too, and fastened the seat belt. We took off.
I checked my cell phone, since I vaguely remembered hearing it buzz at a certain point.
Fifteen missed calls from Prussia. I frowned. Well, too bad for my brother today. Surely he could just take a cab. Maybe Romano could drop him off - no, I'd rather not have that. I put the device away.
As soon as we got to my home, we dried ourselves off, checked the basement - Prussia wasn't there - and went to bed. Italy curled up by my side, surprisingly not naked. He stated that it was not appropriate to sleep naked with your lover, which I thought didn't really make sense. But then I realized he was Italy, so he didn't have to make sense. And I still loved him.
It felt good to admit that to myself and to him.
'I love you,' I murmured into his hair. He didn't answer, because he was asleep, but I was content with just murmuring. So I kept doing it until I fell asleep. 'I love you.'
To be honest, I am still not exactly sure how we ended up like this. And to be more honest, I am a tad bit scared because of that. I am always the calculating one, the cold rationalist. I'm not supposed to let feelings get the better of me. Especially not feelings of want or lust. Especially not feelings of affection or love. But for once - and probably, hopefully, for more times to come in the future - I was very happy about letting my control go and let these feeling get the better of me. It was worth it. Italy was worth it.