In the deep alcoves of England's home, where he kept all his alchemy and dark arts hidden away, the blonde man was busy at work mixing various elixirs.

From a thick, leather bound book, it's pages yellowed with age and, words from an unknown language, Arthur read off the next ingredient.

The air was already thick with smells from cauldrons, beakers, and open bottles, ranging from sweet to rotten, and various in betweens.

Picking up a ladle, he dips it into a bubbling cauldron and pours a good amount into a large beaker over a small flame. The liquid glowed a bright orange. Taking a small vile, he adds it, making it glow blue.

Going to his shelved ingredients, he searches their contents. The labels were enough to make one's stomach turn that read, bear eye crust, or ground monkey toes, or powdered duckling beaks. Plucking a bottle of witch's splinters, with just a sprinkle the beaker puffed smoke and changed to a golden glow.

"Just one more thing." the man smiled, wiping his brow from under his hood.

Picking up a tiny eyedropper, he opens a certain bottle with care. Taking just the smallest bit, he let out a gasp when a drop spilled onto the table. Immediately it began to eat away at the wood, leaving a small hole.

Letting out a breath, England held a steady hand over the bubbling concoction. His fingers trembled, and lightly squeezed the eyedropper.

The droplet fell right into the beaker and flared up in a near explosion. Arthur quickly backed away in case the whole thing blew up.

With some angry gurgling and fizzing, the brew settled down, but was now an inky blackness.

He smiled ruefully.

Cautiously going over to the table, he raises both hands and began the incantation.

The beaker began to froth and smoke, boiling to the point of exploding again. Flashing it changed from color to color. First green, then white, then purple, and then red. And then a blinding light filled the room, illuminating every corner. Then it faded.

There, in the center of the table, bubbled a clear pink liquid.

Arthur gazed upon it and widened his smile. Thrusting his fists in the air, he let out a wild whoop and danced all about.

"Finally! It is done!"

After weeks of endless sleepless nights, he had finished it!

While scouring his spell books, for a curse for that damn impudent America, he had come across a spell that would completely change a person's personality into the opposite on who ever drank it.

Seeing the chance to render the ever confident and boisterous America into a meek and sniveling man, he would have finally one up him.

He giggled with glee. He could see it now. Alfred and him in the bedroom, him absolutely shy and bashful while he, big strong England, would take... the lead.

Arthur's tongue hung out panting at the lewd thoughts in his head.

Bottling up his potion in an unsuspecting wine bottle, he tied a nice ribbon on it and placed it by his bed side.

Tomorrow at the meeting he would present the fake wine to America and then...

Under the sheets he squealed with excitement. He couldn't wait till morning.

All through the meeting, England could hardly contain his smile. In fact, some of the countries sitting next to him scooted their chairs away. It was like he was a freaky Cheshire cat.

After the meeting finally adjourned, England waited till the others had left. He had told America that he wanted to give him something after the meeting so they should meet here.

Reaching under his chair, he picks up the bottle that held the mysterious brew. "Soon," he grinned mischievously, "big confident America will be meek and shy little Alfred."

The door to the meeting room swung open and in wandered America. "Yo." he waved.

"Ah, hello America." Placing the bottle on the table, Arthur turns to greet the man. "So glad you came. I ha-NNPH!?"

Instantly Alfred slammed their mouths together. England's surprised voice was muffled between their heated lips, a hot tongue plunging in to explore his mouth.

Their lips part with a loud pop and the small English man gasped for breath. What the hell?

"You've been very naughty, Arthur." Alfred smiled, smacking his moist lips. "You let me go weeks with out a proper English meal..." Perching the smaller man onto the table, Alfred ripped his suit open, sending the buttons zipping in all directions.

England let out a loud cry, his face blistering in heat, grabbing the remainder of his rapidly vanishing clothes.

A hot tongue lapped an exposed nipple and Arthur quaked.

"Arthur..." Flicking his tongue around the nub, America tugged it with his teeth. He looked up at the panting Englishman behind his glasses. "I'm starving..."

Popping his head into the empty meeting room, the red haired Italy gloomily wandered in. Doitsu had scolded him for forgetting his manual about proper combat strategy. It was a forced homework, not that he wanted to read something so boring. There were not even any pictures in it.

He sniffled and went to his seating area. Vee. He didn't have to yell at him with such a booming voice. So scary.

Picking up the book, his eyes widened in wonder. Just across from his seat sat a lovely bottle of wine with a nice ribbon tied around the neck.


Dropping the book, the little Italian rushed over and examined the bottle.

Was it for him? There was no tag, but he hadn't noticed anyone carrying it in before the meeting. Could it be...

"Vee! A gift just for me!" he readily decided and picked up the bottle, skipping out the building with it.

The liquid in the bottle sloshed in his arms. Looking at the bottle in his arms, Italy stopped and licked his lips a little. Pulling the cork, his nose caught sent of a rather sweet yet tangy aroma. It wasn't the usual scent of wine.

Sniffing the bottle opening, he gingerly took a small sip.

"Vee!" It tasted sweet. Perhaps it was a sort fruit wine.

Bringing it to his lips he takes a long drink. When he finally came up for air, nearly two thirds of the bottle was empty.

Feliciano smacked his lips, lapping up the lingering sweetness. It was one of the best tasting wines he'd ever had.

Corking the bottle, the thought suddenly struck him. Was he suppose to be doing something? A book or something?

Deciding to ask the Germany himself, he wanders off toward his house.

In his usual study, Germany was reviewing documents like always.

Quietly peeking through the door, Italy was glad to see he was in. Seeing that he was busy, he took the time to admire the blonde man. It was enjoyable to watch the man. He was always serious and stoic with a constant frown. But he also had a very kind heart deep down... and handsome. If he was honest, Germany was very masculine and sexy. Hell, damn sexy. Especially those piercing ice blue eyes.

He also admired the man's uniform. Since they've frequently slept in the same bed, he knew that beneath that stiff uniform was a very muscular, toned body. Even the fingers that held the papers were tough, strong, and sexy.

Italy felt his body warm, imagining those strong hands exploring his body. He lightly flushed and suddenly felt himself teeter.


An odd feeling was washing over him. Flowing into every corner of his body. What was going on? Why did he... feel...

Stumbling against the door, it let out a soft creak.

Raising a glance from his documents, Ludwig returned his attention to them when he saw that it was only Italy.

"Did you get the book like I asked?" he inquired. There was a long pause when the other did not answer. Raising his eyes, he raised a slim brow toward him. "Italy?"

He watched as the other sway on his feet before straightening. Clearing his voice, he gave a simple 'No.'

Ludwig sighed, not that he was surprised. "Never mind. There will be training today. You are dismissed." Opening a folder, he turns in his swivel chair with his back to the Italian.

But the smaller man remained where he stood.

Slowly closing the door behind him he quietly crossed the room.


Inwardly groaning, Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. He seriously did not feel up for the hyper active male's antics.

Casually wandering up to the desk, Feliciano gave a smile and touched the top of the desk. "Doitsu."

"Vhat?" Ludwig snapped, trying to keep his temper in check.

Placing a hand on the top of the swivel chair, Feliciano quickly turns the man to face him, having perched himself on the desk. Giving a small smile- or was it a smirk?- , he extends his fingers and hooks them in Ludwig's collar. Giving a rough tug, he drags his face till they were but an eyelash away. "Scopiamo, baby." he cooed lustfully.

Germany's jaw dropped. "...Hah?"

As soon as those astounding words came out, Feliciano crushed their mouths together. A soft tempting tongue slipped passed those gaping lips and gently swirled around the other's.

Closing their lips together, their breaths became wet and muffled as they kissed in such a feverish fashion.

The documents in Ludwig's hand fell to the floor in a heap as the shockingly aggressive Italian was working him over with one hell of a kiss. Already his brain short circuited and pathetically allowed himself to be swept away in the vicious current that felt absolutely wonderful to drown in.

His eye gave a twitch when he felt his tongue pulled from his mouth by Feliciano's lips and lightly suckled on it. Little slurping sounds he made was shooting sharp chills over his skin.

His eyes nearly rolled up into the back of his head when his tongue was sucked in and sealed his mouth closed again.

When their mouths parted, Ludwig's hung open, a thin thread of saliva connecting to Italy's. He stared out blankly, his ice blue eyes unfocused and dilated.

Der Deutsche, den Sie versuchen zu erreichen, ist im Moment nicht verfügbar. Bitte rufen Sie später erneut an. Beeeeep.

His mental state rebooted when he felt something tightening around his wrist. Looking down he saw it was both his wrists.

Italy had, who knew when, removed his tie and wrapped it around his one wrist to the arm of his chair, and amazingly used Ludwig's own belt to bind the other.

"There we go." Feliciano smiled, admiring his handy work.

Ludwig's eyes shot up and stared in bewilderment at the Italian. Usually he'd have a goofy yet cute smile on his face. But now he held a confident smirk that only spread wider. Was it his imagination or was he also a tad more masculine?

Stretching his finger, Feliciano slides it along the man's strong jaw and tilted it back. "Now... Shall we get started?"

Trailing his finger down his large torso, he shamelessly grabs Ludwig's package. "Mmmmm. Something's cooking downstairs, Doitsu..."

Getting over his initial shell shock, Ludwig struggles in the chair. "Italy! Vhat's the meaning of this?" he demanded, thrashing about. "Untie me this insti-"

A pair of leather gloves -left on the desk- were roughly stuffed into his mouth.

"Chiudi il becco, sexy." Feliciano sneered, "Voglio il tuo cazzo, non le tue parole."

Ludwig's eyes bugged out. 'Wer zum Teufel war das!?'

Dropping to his knees, Feliciano tugged the zipper down and smiled lecherously as Ludwig's erection leaped right out at full attention.

"Oh mio..." he purred, wrapping his fingers around the thick swollen appendage. "Such a nice hot wurst you have here, Ludwig." He played with the hot foreskin, tracing his lips across it. "So plump and full that's it's nearly bursting from it's casing..."

Ludwig shuddered in his chair, the slow exploration making him swell even more. The gag in his mouth muffling a groan as his breath hitched.

"Mmm, it smells so good..." Feliciano's soft tongue drew across his hot skin. "And it's seasoned so well..." Rubbing the tip, he smeared the bead of pre cum that collected and flicked his tongue across it. "Mind if I help myself?" he asked, but was already gulping down the long shaft.

Nearly jumping from the chair, if the restraints hadn't held him down, Ludwid gave a smothered wail.

The hot mouth encased his large erection and gently sucked on it.

Italy's head raised and lowered on the long shaft, a fiendish tongue expertly stroking all over his sensitive skin that would make an shameless whore beg. But right now he was the one that wanted to beg.

Every so often he would pull off to gently graze his teeth on the tip before rubbing the pain away with the tip of his tongue.

Ludwig pressed himself firmly into the back of the chair, digging his fingers into the smooth leather arms. His hips twitched and writhed in sweet agony, the toes in his boots clenching into tight fists. Arching his neck, he felt his eyes roll back.

Never once did Feliciano's eyes break their gaze up at him. So sly and coy, enjoying his every reaction and taking pleasure in his helplessness. It was setting Ludwig on fire.

Saliva dripped down his jaw from his stuffed mouth; his chest heaved rapidly. More! He wanted more!

Just as he was about to reach climax, Feliciano pulled off at the last minute making him weep.

"You have a very tasty wurst, Ludwig..." he smiled. Wiping his mouth with his finger, he delicately licks it clean. "Nice and plump, and juicy."

Getting up, he props his hips on the desk, crossing his legs. He gazed at the crimsoned face man that was rapidly trying to breath through his nose.

He gives a devilish grin. "Sì., German wurst is truly exquisite, don't you think Ludwig?" He rocked his leg slowly, musing out loud. "They're very large and firm. Almost rock hard. But they nearly melt in your mouth." Extending his leg, he draws the toe of his boot up the quivering length.

Ludwig shivered in his chair. Feliciano smiled coyly. "But do you know what an Italian like myself enjoys?" Here his toe slid down and tapped Ludwig's balls. "Some nice, plump meatballs..." Feliciano licked his lips and began to gently add pressure. "Succulent and salty. Sometimes I love to suck on them when I eat."

Ludwig spasimed. He whimpered in protest, but raised his hips for more friction.

Feliciano chuckled, slowly shaking his head. "But by far the best part, is when I bite down..." he squishes the man's bare balls with his boot, "And the juices burst onto my tongue..."

On cue, Ludwig threw his head back and screamed into the gag, white fluid gushing from his tip.

His body went lax and only wanted to melt to the floor, where his brains have obviously liquidated.. The only function this poor man could muster was trying to catch his breath through his nose.

Italy looked upon his ravished state with mild amusement. "What a nice sauce you've marinated your wurst and meatballs in." he softy laughed. "I love savoring the flavors."

Pulling the gag out,- Ludwig taking a long gulp of air- Feliciano caught the man's tongue with his and made them dance in the open air.

Kissing his finger tips, he picks up the bottle he left on the desk and waltzes to the door. Stopping at the door, and leaning against the frame, he gives Ludwig one final look. "Grazie per il pasto, Doitsu." And then he was gone.

Ludwig sat in his chair in his post-orgasmic stupor. Was that really Italy just now?

When the last of the sexual tingling finally left his body, he was still absolutely baffled. And furious. Very furious. What had come over Italy? It was like he was a complete opposite of himself. Such confidence without being egotistical. So unlike the empty headed adorable idiot.

Wait! He didn't mean that!

Sure, he was cute in a way, but not adorable like an eager puppy that you just want to squeeze to your chest. Cute fluffy ears protruding off the top of his head and a waggly tail... It made his mouth water.

Nein! He didn't think that either! Or how kinky it would be to grip that tail as he was plowing in!

NEIN! He should be furious!

Just remembering what that idiot Italian just did was already making his blood boil and sending it south. How dare he tie him up, shamelessly, and expertly service him then up and leave! When he got his hands on the red-head, he was going to make him suffer!

Speaking of hands, he finally realized he was still tied up and his exposed privates fully erect.

"Verdammt! Zu Hilfe! Warte, keine Hilfe! Nein, bitte helft mir, aber haltet eure Augen geschlossen! Italyyyyyyyyyy!"


Briskly walking through the town, Italy happily chuckled and twirled on his toes. Doitsu was so cute getting tied down and violated. It made him squeal! Then his world swam a moment... What made him want to squeal? What was...

Raising his head, Feliciano took a look around. "Vee? How did I get here?" Last thing he remembered was having to get something and going over to Germany's to ask what it was. But what happened after that?

"Vee..." cradling the bottle in his arms, his tried to think.

After half an hour of failed thinking, playing with some stray cat, taking a siesta, and forgetting where he was, Feliciano was just thinking of finishing the rest of the wine bottle when his brother Romano turned up.

"Oi, what are you doing here Feliciano? Finally had enough of that potato bastard?" the brunette haired male frowned.

"Oh, hello Romano." he smiled happily. How nice it was to see his scowling brother. "Vee, where is Antonio? Is he harvesting more tomatoes today? Could you send me some too?" Italy drooled at the thought of some fresh tomatoes for his pasta.

At the mention of Spain, Romano turned up his nose in disgust. "Like I care what that tomato idiot does!"

"Vee? Did something happen?" Feliciano asked, blinking his eyes.

Romano scoffed and kicked a rock. "What are you talking about? I'm glad that moron is out of my damn face. Always asking me to help out and saying crap like how cute I am. Damn shitty bastard!"

Italy quietly listened to his brother rant. 'Oh Romano...' he inwardly sighed, 'Why doe he saw this all the time?' Antonio cares about him. But why does he always make such unnecessary fuss over him? Couldn't he be more honest about his feelings?

Poor Antonia. He probably had a hard time dealing with Romano's mood swings. Sometimes he thought if someone knocked him down a peg, Romano would realize his actions and be more considerate. Just give him a little tough... love...

His vision swam then cleared.

What the hell is this ingrate bitching about?

Romano continued to ramble on about hating just about everything, and how the bathroom at the meeting center was locked with loud moaning coming from inside, when his brother cut in.

"Oi." Feliciano spoke up sharply.

Romano was a little taken aback by being interrupted and blatantly showed it. "What?" he snapped, "You have something to say?"

Feliciano raised his head and gave him a defiant glare and smiled. "Perché non impari a chiudere quella cazzo di bocca?"

The brunette haired Italian's mouth dropped. "Wh-wh-wha?"

"Shh!" the other hissed, holding up a finger. "You hear that? That's called silence. So why don't you practice that? In fact, you should be practicing a lot."

Stalking toward his brother, Feliciano held up a finger for each thing. "Per primo, the sound of your constant bitching would turn any guy off. So I think you should be damn grateful that Antonio puts up with so much of it since he damn near raised you. Due, speaking of Antonio, I think you should stop treating him badly, like the ungrateful little shit you are, and get down on you hands and knees and thank him for taking care of you for all these years and protecting you from the others and, actually loving you. Tre, get over yourself. You're not tough. You're a whiny little brat that craves attention and throws fits when you don't get it. And even when you do you act like you don't want it. So just admit that you want his attention and shut up."

Closing his mouth after that outburst, he cornered the fellow Italian to a wall and gave his stunned brother a cat like smile. "Did I say enough?"

Romano's eyes were wide, staring at this person that looked like his brother but who just savagely berated. Slowly his face turned very red, nearing purple. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if to say something, but no feasible words came out. It was hard to tell if he was about to explode or cry. Or maybe both.

Clenching his jaw, he shook uncontrollably. "You-you..." he sputtered, his temper flaring up. "Idiot! Asshole! Who the hell are you to talk like that to me!? That potato bastard must have corrupted you!"

Suddenly shoving Feliciano away, he snatches the bottle in his hands and dashes off with it. "I hate you! Stupid brother! Idiot! Moron! Hope that Potato bastard works you to death!"

Italy watched quietly as his brother went running off; screaming all sort of foul words in different languages.

He smirked triumphantly. Maybe now he would be more considerate before running his

The world swirled.

"Romano?" Where did he go?

Blinking his eyes, the little Italian wondered where his brother ran off to. In fact, where was the bottle he was carrying? Did Romano take it?

"Vee... I wanted to drink some more..." he sniffled. So mean of Romano to take his yummy wine. Then his tummy gave a loud growl.

"Veeeee, I'm hungry." he whimpered. It been only an hour since he last ate, and he was starving.

Then an idea blinked in his empty head. Perhaps Germany would let him use his kitchen to cook again. With this thought in mind, he hurries back with a spring in his step.


Germany gasped for breath, his heart pounding rapidly as sweat coated his hot skin.

Rounding his ninth lap, he seethed and raging anger. That damn Italy had yet to show up for training. If there was one thing he hated, it was people who were never on time.

Giving a growl he finished his lap and dropped down for some push ups. Damn that Italy!

The moment he came back he was going to drill him with so much training that he won't be able to move for weeks.

Pacing his push ups, he kept count in his head while figuring proper educational training that would help Feliciano become a better soldier.

Neunzehn... zwanzig... einundzwanzig... zweiundzwanzig... 'Oh... Doitsu...' He'd beg, lifting his hips, 'Doistu... so big... More!'

Stopping in mid push up, Ludwig's face deeply flushed. Where did that come from?!

Coughing nervously, he went back to his push ups. His thoughts began to drift as to why he imagined that up.

Giving a sigh, if he had to admit it, which he wouldn't, push ups sort of resembled another activity, but they were nothing alike! It was to strengthen the upper body! A physical activity to gain strength! Not an illusion of debauchery!

Getting back into the rhythm, and proper way of thinking, he was assured that if he taught Italy to do push ups he'd build up muscles too.

'Are you liztening Italy? Zis is the proper way to do push ups." he'd order.

'Ah! Doitsu! I can't keep up!" Italy would weep. "Your hot wurst is making me so full..."

Braced over the Italian, Germany was demonstrating the proper way to do push ups. Without pants... drilling the technique into him.

Germany ceased his push ups and felt the flow of blood drizzling from his nose.

Burying his fingers into the ground he starts up his push ups again, but this time banging his head into the dirt to keep count.

Neunzehn Verdammt! Zwanzig Verdammt! Verdammt! Verdammt! VerdammtVerdammtVerdammt! Verdammt!


Poking about the rooms, Feliciano looked high and low, but could find no trace of Ludwig. He usually was in his study, but he was not there. Neither was his chair.

"Vee, where could Doitsu be?"

Taking a moment to think, which was very difficult to do, he quickly lost focus and broke into song, wandering to the training grounds. There he finally spotted him. "Oh, there he is." he smiled.

He was in the middle of training and seemed to be doing sit ups. His skin was covered in sweat and had a slight color of heat to it.

'Vee, Doitsu is training so hard as always.' Feliciano smiled affectionately. Must be how he keeps that magnificent body so sculpted.

At the moment he seemed to have just finished his training. Sweat clung his his pale skin that swelled with muscle. The thin shirt he wore was drench, so he removed it, showing off a nice set of pecs.

Feliciano inwardly swallowed. A wide upper body, a slender mid section, and very powerful legs that were rock solid. Germany looked so hot... it was making his mouth water...

As his head began to sway, slow smile creeping along the Italian's lips.


Germany heaved a long breath. He always felt good after a hard work out. Helped him let off some steam.

Though thanks to an image of Italy all hot and sweaty brought all that steam back and sent it downstairs.

Flushing, he quickly pulled his thin green, sleeveless-shirt back on and headed for the showers.

Ja. A nice cold one to cool things down.

Taking a breath, he tried to calm himself. It was so mortifying to allow such images to plague his mind. He -though it was hard to admit- did occasionally have these... minor mental hallucinations once in a while, but now they were happening more frequently.

After that incident earlier, his mind has been relentlessly ravaged by perverse images.

Just leaving him tied to that chair only half satisfie- uh- doing such a shameless action without repercussion. He would make certain Italy received severe punishment.

Severe punishment...

Italy hung upside down from chains attached to the ceiling. 'AH! Doitsu! Please... take the candle out. The melting wax hurts. Pleas-ah-please punish me with yours... I want yours!'

Ludwig quickly pinched his nose to prevent blood from coming out.

Kalte Dusche. Kalte Dusche. Kalte Dusche. Kalte Dusche. Kalte Dusche. Kalte Dusche.

Where the hell was the shower!?

Rounding the corner toward the house, Germany suddenly found himself thrust roughly against a brick wall as a hand quickly slapped over his mouth to silence a shout. Instinct told him to lash out, but then he froze. There he peered into the familiar golden eyes of a certain Italian.

"Ciao, Doitsu." he grinned mischievously.

Ludwig's eyes widen.

Chuckling at his shock, the red haired male drew his face close.

Ludwig's first thought was to back away, but he was braced against the wall. And why was he backing down? He was a whole two feet taller and had more muscle. But he stiffened as a tongue dragged up his throat.

"Mmmm. Your sweat tingles on my taste buds, Doitsu." Feliciano purred, licking his soft lips."I bet my favorite juicy wurst is dripping with it." Reaching down he cups the German's loins.

Ludwig jumped at the brazen action. But that was nothing when he moved his hands and began to fondle his thick pecs.

"Mio, mio. Such wonderfully shaped breasts you have here. Are you a B- no- C-cup?"

The man balked at the indignant remark. "Those are not breasts!" he shouted. He was obviously too flustered on correcting him about the difference between breasts and pectoral muscles rather than demanding to cease being sexually molested.

Ignoring him, Italy thumbed the man's protruding nipples beneath the moss green tank-top.

Nudging his face into that plump chest he inhaled deeply, savoring the erotic musky scent that Ludwig always carried about him. "Oooooh. You smell to manly..." How he loved training with the man. Not in the exercise sense, but the chance to admire that mouth wateringly broad body glisten with sweat.

Unable to help himself, he squished the two mounds together. Dipping his tongue just below the neck line of the shirt, he licked the formed cleavage.

"UWAH!" Ludwig yelped, unaccustomed to being fondled. But that smooth tongue lapped the line, thrusting between the crevasse. Breath shortened to quick pants. Leaning his head against the brick wall and closing his eyes, he did all he could to not openly moan and heave his chest. Already his groin was pulsing with life.

He felt a chill when the cool air touched his skin as his shirt was rolled up. Ludwig blushed deeply. His nipples were stiff from stimulation and grew taut in the open air. It was embarrassing. But all thoughts of embarrassment vanished when Feliciano licked one of his pert nipples before sealing his mouth over it.

Now Ludwig let out a long moan.

The hot, smooth wet tongue danced over the skin around the nub, nudging it around with each sweep. He lightly drew it into his mouth slowly. Each stroke was followed by a long draw of suction.

Oooooh. What was Ludwig to do? He melted into the wall, the rough brick surface pricking into his back. His cock bulged in his pants, pulsing with hot need. His legs nearly gave way when the slippery tongue slid across his chest and did the same to the other nipple.

Italy reached between his legs and lightly massaged the man's thick bulge that throbbed beneath his fingers. Sucking on the nipple, he let it pop from his lips."For such a strong willed and powerful soldier, you're weak to pleasure, Doitsu." he teased, slim fingers slipping past the belt and encasing around the length through the underwear.

Ludwig should deny that remark vehemently. Scorn such a thought. But he was touching him so damn good.

Feliciano smiled, "Sweet, Doitsu. It's quite obvious you enjoy being a submissive." Lightly he tugs the man's nipple between his teeth. "Così carino."

Ludwig panted harshly, flinching at the naughty foreplay and raising his hips for those fingers on his erection.

"Mmmm, I love your body, tesoro." he heard him purr. Those small hands explored his waist, sliding around to the back and cupping his buttocks. "Ah... so tight... and firm... yet soft between my fingers..."

Through the haze of pleasure, the German man suddenly felt rather weary. Why was Feliciano touching him there? He froze when a hand drew lower, slipping between his cheeks.

"Makes me wonder if you're soft inside as well...?" the red head whispered in a husky tone.


Instantly Germany was turned around to face the wall and felt the air touch his exposed rump while his pants and underwear were pulled down.


What just happened? Why was he being undressed from behind?

Italy filled his palms with those pale cheeks and gave them a tight squeeze. "Ooooh. And their spongy too..." he chuckled, spreading them a bit. "Ah! You didn't tell me you were hiding such a cute little cherry, Doitsu."

Ludwig's brain was already spinning like an out of control carousel that it was hard to function what the other was saying.

Hiding? Cherry? What cherry? Why touch down there? Was? Warum fasst du dorthin?!

"Mmm. You're giving off such a masculine scent, Doitsu..." Feliciano smiled, licking his lips. "Allow me to hanno una leccata..." Spreading Ludwig's buttocks more, he extends his tongue and leans in.

Wait a minute. Is he trying... Is he insinuating... WAS HE GOING TO...!

Germany regains his senses in three... two... one...


Spinning around, Ludwig punches the Italian molester.

"Du Monster!" he screamed, covering his exposed areas like a violated woman before dashing off to his house.

Italy lay on the ground staring up at the sky.

Sitting up, he winced as he saw stars and looked around.

"... Vee? How did I get here?"


Rubbing his sore head, Italy wandered back to town. Germany had locked himself in his house and refused all from any entry. Especially Italy. He was even chased off by the guards.

Dejected and upset, the little Italian sniffled and looked about for places to eat, holding his poor empty stomach.

Why did Germany have him chased off? Was he mad? Did he not like him anymore? "Doitsu..." he quivered, feeling the tears build up.

"What's wrong, mon cher?" a familiar French accent sang out.

Feliciano wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked about. "France nii? What are you doing here?"

Francis smiled charmingly at the adorable Italian. "Well, I was just out to purchase some cheese to go with this delicious wine I so happen to come across. But then I spotted you."

"Vee? Wine?" Feliciano asked eagerly. The mention of food momentarily pushed aside his sadden thoughts.

"Oui, some very delicious wine..." France eyed him up and down and grinned.

Little did Italy know he'd been following him since he came to town.

Since the meeting that morning, France had delved into his inner world of desire while watching Feliciano across the room. He always looked so cute and innocent. How he wondered what his gasping form would look beneath him, those creamy legs wrapped around his hips. So he decided to stal- er- follow him.

He'd only lost sight of him when he went to Germany's home, but, to his great fortune, he found him again.

Now to set the bait.

"You know, I really wish I had someone to drink this wine with. I heard it was very good."

Come a little closer, my cute little Italy.

Throwing his arm in the air, Italy eagerly volunteered. "Vee! Vee! I'd love to drink it with you, France nii san."

Laying a hand around his waist, France led the way to his house. "That's wonderful to hear, mon cheri. I just can't waaaaait" his fingers crept up his waist, "to try it with you..."

Inwardly he licked his chops.


Back at France's home, he opened a bottle of his finest wine and they both drank the lovely burgundy liquid.

There was a variety of food set out as well and Feliciano ravenously helped himself.

Sitting comfortably in his large velvety sofa, Francis sipped his glass slowly as the Italian engorged himself on food and wine.

When he was finally full, Italy sighed and patted his tummy. "That's was delicious, France nii." he smiled, falling comfortably back into the couch next to France.

France smiled and poured another glass for his guest. "Such a healthy appetite as always, Feliciano. But, uh... Don't you usually eat at Germany's?"

At the mention of Ludwig, Feliciano wilted in his spot. Holding the glass between his hands, his bottom lip wibbled a bit. "Doitsu wouldn't let me." he sniffled, "He had me chased away too. Did I do something wrong?"

'Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!' Steam wafted from Francis' head. He looked so cute, with his eyes all downcast and watery!

'No, no. Don't pounce yet. We have to get him more relaxed and defenseless.' he told himself.

"Poor thing..." he sighed, placing a comforting hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "How mean of Germany to do such a thing. Can you remember at all what could have displeased him?"

Feliciano swallowed back a sniffle and drank his wine down fast. "No. Not that I could think of. Oh! I did miss training, but I always do that."

"Maybe he was just feeling extra grouchy, mon cher." the French man consoled while emptying the bottle into the Italian's glass. "Don't worry, petite fleur. Big brother France will make you feel better."

Italy smiled up at him warmly. "Grazia, France nii."

'Oh, WOW!'

France dug his fingers into the couch to keep himself from throwing him down and ripping his clothes off right then and there.

"You're so cute." he squealed, and lightly hugged him.

Feliciano smiled happily and nuzzle into the crook of Franis' neck. "You're so thoughtful and considerate."

Hidden from view, France panted like a horny dog.


Bottle after bottle was poured into Feliciano's glass.

When the final drop fell from the seventh bottle, the little Italian was slumped back and lightly dozing with the bottle cradled in his arms, his face red from the alcohol.

"Feliciano?" Francis called out, giving his shoulder a small shake.

Feliciano groaned and moved his head to the side, but never opening his eyes.

Taking the bottle from him, he sighed, staring at it forlornly. "He drank seven of my most vintage bottles."

But he was sleepy now.

A wide grin spread across Francis' face.

Minutes later, the food and empty wine bottles were removed and replaced with trays of condoms, different bottles of lubrication and various type of sex toys, ranging from simple to down right bizarre. There was even a rack of whips, hand cuffs, ball-gags, and numeral other items that could not even be imagined.

Lighting some candles, for atmosphere, France had changed into a black string bikini thong with a rose print on the front.

Fluffing some giant pillows, that were also added for comfort, the French man turned his attention back toward the sleeping Italian. He mewed in delight at how sweet he looked.

The soft glow of candles reflected off his creamy skin, golden rays shimmering across his red hair and long eyelashes. Like a sleeping cherub in a painting.

France felt the hearts in his eyes pulse and had to wipe the drool off his chin.

"Oh mon doux petit chérubin..." he sang tenderly.

Walking over to the sleeping man, he quietly crawls on top of him. "S'il vous plaît permettre à ce diable de vous envoyer à un autre niveau du ciel." Tilting Feliciano's head back, he sweetly draws his lips close.

"Allora mi permetta di inviare alle più profonde fosse dell'inferno ..."

Feliciano grabbed the kissy French man's face in a tight grip.

"Piacere... France nii..." he sneered.

The squish faced Francis' eyes widened.

Shoving the man off him, making him crash to the floor, Feliciano stood and looked about the room. He eyed the various trays and items of naughty fun lined up and ready to use.

"Mio, mio. You weren't, by chance, planning on having a party without my knowing... were you... France...nii...?" Each word was punctuated with a wider sneer that turned crueler and crueler each time.

From the floor, France felt himself break into a cold sweat. Who was this?! This wasn't the Feliciano he knew!

Picking up a whip, the smaller man examined it curiously and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Oooh. You are a very bad boy, France nii." he chuckled, looping the long leather rope around his hands to make it taut, "Little Italy will have to punish you." He suddenly yanks both ends of the whip, making a loud snap.

France gulped.

Inclining his brows, Feliciano looked thoughtful. "But you did give me such a wonderful meal. And the wine... absolutely exquisite... So I'll punish you in the sweetest of agony..." He licked the tip of his finger.

Putain de merde.


France cried out behind the ball-gag lodged in his mouth. Flexing his wrists, he strains at the leather handcuffs that were chained to the leg of the couch.

He let out a loud whimper as Italy poured hot, melted wax from the burning candle up and down his bare back.

"Such a naughty France nii, you are." Feliciano chortled, letting the candle wax drip on the man's bare ass, "Does France nii san like his punishment?"

Francis only jerked as the wax burned his backside. He let out a gasp when the Italian's boot went between his legs and touched his dripping rod.

"Oh? Looks like someone is getting soaking wet down here." Feliciano muttered, raising a brow, "We can't have that."

Placing the candle down, he seats himself on the sofa and jerks the lower half of France's body onto his lap. Smoothing a hand over Francis' bottom, he slips the thong off.

The man's erection throbbed to life, dripping clear secretions from the tip.

Feliciano continued to stroke Francis' bare ass, squeezing the soft cheeks. "You see, punishments are not meant to feel good. In fact..." Pinching the man's cock between his knees, he sharply slaps his ass. "It's suppose to be painful..."

Francis cried out behind the gag. His bottom was already burned from the melted wax, but the sharp slap, and having his length pinched between the Italian's knees, nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Another hard slap made him jump in pain. Yanking at his handcuffs, he wailed while he was repeatedly spanked, having his penis pinched harder for each time he cried out.

His cries soon turned to sobs of pleasure, tears rolling down his cheeks while his other cheeks had turned a very angry red from abuse. He wanted to come so much, spill his juices then and there, but the pinching kept him from doing so.

The mix of pain and pleasure, stirred with a strong dose of unfulfilled release clawed at his sanity. How he wanted to scream and beg for climax.

The spanking suddenly ceased, but those knees continued to pinch him.

"What a good boy, France nii is." Feliciano purred, stroking the red swelling of his handy work. "You took your punishment like a man."

Pushing him off his lap, France fell to the floor gasping for breath. His skin was soaked in sweat and dried wax bits, his bottom so red it would glow in the dark. Shamelessly his white fluid dribbled out on the floor.

"So good in fact, you deserve a reward..." Picking up an object from the table, Feliciano examined it carefully.

A bottle of lubricant later, France wailed behind the ball-gag, the thick hot pink vibrator buzzing inside him.

Feliciano pistoned the object slowly into the French man.

France arched his ankles onto his toes. He was pushing it in so deep and had it on medium. His hips thrust into the air, his swollen cock bouncing about.

The chains rattled and bit into the couch leg as he strained against them. 'Oh, God!' He felt so damn good! And the lubricant was a specialty item, making his insides spasm uncontrollably.

"You must be really hungry, France nii. It's gulping it down so much." the little Italian teased, rotating the vibrator. In his other hand was a wireless remote that controlled the speed.

Standing up, he places his foot on the hilt. "Why don't you gobble it all up?" And he shoves the whole thing inside, turning it to high.

Francis' entire body bowed off the floor, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. Tears gushed from his sockets and a loud muffled scream filled the room as his climaxed.

His body convulsed violently and he continued to scream, his first orgasm triggering a long dry one. Eyes rolling back, he goes limp.

Feliciano waited till he stopped moving before removing his boot. The vibrator slowly squeezed out and buzzed around on the floor.

"Well that was enjoyable." he smiled, clapping his hands for a job well done. "Nothing like a light activity after a healthy meal, don't you think, France nii?" He looks over the half conscious man before noticing his boot was slightly soiled. Picking up the discarded thong, he used it to clean his shoe. "As much as I enjoyed spending time with you, I should get going. "

Tossing thong on the couch, Italy went to the door. "Grazie for the delicious wine, France... nii..." he purred, slinking out the door and twiddling his fingers in a cheerful wave.


Breathing in the fresh air, Feliciano happily stared at the sky. With copious amounts of alcohol running through his system, it seemed to have a prolonging affect with the elixir. In fact, it was boosting the affects tenfold.

He laughed softly, a butterfly fluttering up to him and flew along the breeze. It was wonderful fun, spending time with France nii. If only Doitsu was more obedient like him.

"Doitsu is a very bad boy, kicking me out..." Adjusting his tie, a glint shined in his eye. Looks like someone will have to put a certain doggy through some serious training.

Making way toward the man's house, Italy was rather unexpected to see Germany's brother, Gilbert, lurking about.

He seemed to be laughing and singing very obnoxiously about his greatness while pretending to swing a sword about.

'Doitsu's brother...' Feliciano felt the smirk tug at his mouth.

Gilbert boisterously sang about himself, with Gilbird perched upon his head; swinging his arm in a pretend attack to an invisible enemy. Won't West be happy to see him? His darling, and sexually appealing, older brother.

Oh. Maybe that cutie Italy would be there too. He's so cute! Like that time he tried to drink beer with the rest of them. Getting all flushed and tipsy... In fact, if memory serves, West was looking rather red faced that night too. If they had had just a few more rounds...

He salivated in thought.


Gilbert jumped, letting out a manly scream, but awesomely covered it up as Gilbird fluffed it's feathers and nestled down for a nap. A wide grin nearly split the man's face in half when he saw who it was. "Ah, Hallo zere, little Italy."

Feliciano smiled up at him. "Hello. On your way to see Doitsu?"

Was it Gilbert's imagination, or was there something a little... off, about the Italian?

Maybe his awesomeness was making him nervous. But he could understand that. Who else was as awesome as him?

"Ja. I thought the ever awesome me, would bid my darling little West a visit."

"Waa. That's very nice of you. And what fine swordsmanship you were performing."

This boosted Gilbert's ego immensely. "Vell of course. I am an amazing swordsman! Many trembled in fear when the saw me even touch the hilt of my sword." he elaborated. "None can come in comparison of my skill!"

Well maybe Hungary, but Italy didn't have to know that.

Gilbird promised not to say anything.

Feliciano gave a cheerful gasp. "Wow. That sounds very amazing. To be so skilled at wielding such a long heavy sword."

'Eh...?' Gilbert blinked a bit. That sounded... naughty.

Coughing, he puffed out his chest proudly. "Of course! Only a big, strong, awesomely sexy guy like me would have that ability."

"Oooh. I bet you have strong fingers to grip such a large length as that." The Italian looked at his own hands and looked crestfallen. "My hands would be too small to wrap around the hilt. I'd probably need to use both hands."

Woah. Mental image.

Gilbert gave a small swallow. "Uh, ja..." He nervously tugged at his collar, getting rather hot and bothered. This conversation was really bordering on the line of hot.

Folding his hands, Feliciano looked up at the albino man. "Maybe sometime you could let me hold it."

Gilbert's face burst red. "...U-uh..."

"Maybe I could polish it up, for you." the red head beamed, "Feeling the full weight and length between my fingers."

Steam rapidly puffed from the Prussian's head. They were talking about swords, right?

The little bird made a small sigh.

Walking along a bit, Feliciano seemed to be deep in thought. " Doistu has a very impressive gun, you know. So large and fully loaded at all times... Have you and Doitsu ever compared your weapons?"

'WOW!' Heat exploded across Gilbert's face. Now things were really sounding kinky. "N-nein..." he answered, holding back the urge to drool.

Feliciano laughed, "Well, if you ever want to, I can help."


"I could assist in the examination." he explained, "Like measuring them, seeing which is longer, or thicker, or how deep they can go... In fact, we could take turns!"

Gilbert fell to a dead stop, his sword suddenly expanding in his sheath. Oh Gott, the images that were spinning in his head!

Feliciano observed the man out of the corner of his eye. "You know it's really great you and Doitsu are brothers."

"Ja... Super lucky... I mean! How so?"

Toeing a stone with his shoe, he gave a shrug. "Two very attractive men, and both with astounding skills on... and off the field... I'm truly lucky to know you both. After all, there are benefits to knowing brothers..."

Momentarily leaving his fantasy, Prussia gives the Italian a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" It was strange. It was like this whole conversation was on purpose. Blatantly insinuating double meanings. But... that's not possible. Italy didn't have the brains to manipulate a whole topic to his own means. And he wouldn't usually have that sort of sly look in his eye... And... why wasn't he saying 'Vee' at all?

Feliciano smiled coyly. Clasping his hands behind his back, he turns toward the taller man. "Well... Like when someone is enjoying a very delicious meal, there is nothing like..." Hooking his finger in Gilbert's collar, he tugs the man's ear to his mouth. "Seconds..."

Blood exploded from Gilbert's nose.

Grabbing his head, his imagination reeled out of control. Swords, and guns, comparing. Grasping and holding and enjoying various sizes! Seconds and thirds, and fourths! Oh what the hell, have a damn banquet!

Malfunction, malfunction, awesome mode is experiencing a melt down.

Falling to his knees, his eyes stared out in an unfocused gaze, drool pouring from his panting tongue and blood flowing from his nose.

Little Gilbird looked down at his master and slowly shook it's head.

Waving a hand in front of the mentally broken Prussia, Feliciano figured he'd go on ahead. "Well, I must be going now. Ciao, Prussia san. I'll tell Doitsu you said hi."

Offering a wave, he waltzes off with a triumphant smirk on his face. "Troppo facile."


Ludwig paced the room of his study. Hands clasped firmly behind his back, brows knitted together, he strode to one end of the room, turned around, and went to opposite direction.

His mind buzzed like an angry beehive, trying to make sense of the recent events of the day.

Just what had gotten in to Italy?

Instead of the usual air-headed and puppy like Italy he knew, this one was confident, sly, and just a bit of a sadist.

Ludwig swallowed when he remembered those coy, lecherous eyes that glowed with amusement when he was being tormented. It was like he was an absolutely different person. But that couldn't be right...

Could it have been an imposter? One who resembled Feliciano but was in disguise to spy on him? But that could not be right either. It was definitely Italy... or was it?

He remembered the smug expression on the Italian's face when he ground his boot on his member and then that sinister smile when he pinned him against the wall and ravished him. Ludwig quickly shook his head, the memories making his lower parts cry for more.

Nein! He would not succumb to indecent raptures.

Crossing the room for what seemed like over a hundred times, the German man scoured any reasoning to the smaller man's behavior.

A spy? Nein. A doppelganger? Nein. Joke?

Stopping dead in his tracks, it suddenly dawned on him. That was it. It was all an elaborate joke on the Italian's part.

Ludwig's face hardened. So he was making fun of him, was he? Clenching a fist, he picks up the pace of his strides. Of course it was all a joke. There was no way Feliciano would act this way and do those things.

He seethed. The red head was probably laughing at him right now.

But wait a moment. Italy was far too idiotic to come up with this whole ploy. Please, he couldn't even understand handling grenades. It was obvious he couldn't come up with a plan like this. He must be collaborating with someone!

In fact, someone must be forcing him to do this against his will! That must be it. There was no way cute, snugly little Italy would ever do something to conspire against him. He was in lov-er- respected him too much.

Ja, crying to him about anything, giving those heart warming smiles, curling up next to him in bed and making that sweet little noise when he's in the mo-

Falling into a fit of coughs, Ludwig concluded that Feliciano was being forced to do these sort of things. And he was going to get to the bottom of this right away.

First things first, he would go find the Italian and interrogate him till he revealed the name. Then he'd cry in relief at being freed from the unknown assailant's clutches and lavish the blonde man with endless gratitude and plenty of hot make up se-

Couching again, he crosses to the door and swings it open to begin his search of Feliciano.

A loud thwack greeted his ears when the door swung open. As the door collided with his head,Feliciano fell backwards and landed on the floor.

Gasping, Ludwig rushes right over. "AH! Feliciano, are you all right?" he asked in a concerned voice.

Feliciano flinched and whimpered in pain. "Vee, Doitsu, Doitsu. I hit my head." he cried, tears pricking his eyes.

The man sighed and smiled, shaking his head. How could he doubt such an honest soul like this?

Picking up the frail man, he carries him into the study and sets him on the couch. Brushing back those red bangs, he examines the soon to be bump on his head. The little man sniffled, but held still so the other could take care of him.

Relieved to see that he was fine, he takes a seat next to the red head. "You'll be fine. But that aside, there are a few things I must ask you... about..."

Looking into those wide attentive gold eyes that always looked at him tenderly and sweetly, Ludwig swallowed down the heart that had jumped into his throat. Feliciano was looking at him, a slight tilt to his head, his thin lips slightly parted in a small 'o'. A lock of red hair fell over his brow and brushed his cheek.

The hearts in Ludwig's eyes thumped.

Nein! Quickly slapping his hands on his pinked cheeks, he tries to calm the rapid thumping of his heart. This was no time to be getting to be getting all mushy for a pair of puppy- dog eyes. There were other matters to attend to.

Clearing his throat, he gives the other a stern look. "Now lizten up, Italy. I vant to know why you acted the way you did earlier and before hand. Is someone forcing you?"

Italy blinked his eyes. "Vee?"

"Earlier at the training grounds." the man answered, his ears growing red from memory.

Feliciano stared at him blankly. "Vee? I didn't see you at the training grounds."

It was Ludwig's turn to blink. That couldn't be right. "Vhat? But... but you... What about before that?"


"In the office! You... with a belt..."

The little Italian shook his head. "Office? I don't understand what you're talking about."

"But... but... didn't you... Feliciano!" he barked, grabbing his shoulders and giving them a shake, "You came into my study. And then at the training grounds. You were there! Who is forcing you to act this way? France? It's France isn't it?!"

But he only shook his head, his face openly saying he didn't know what he was talking about.

Ludwig stared back. No, this wasn't right. Was he lying? Nien, he'd show it if he was lying. But, if he wasn't lying, then who? Who was it that did all that? Or... did any of it really happened? Was it all in his head? Did he dream the whole thing up?

"Doitsu..." Feliciano reached out and touched the German man's hand in a means to comfort him.

Looking up, he watched the little red head stare at him in concern. He looked really hard for any signs of the person from before, but saw nothing. Maybe he really did dream it all up. After all, how could a sweet and openly honest face like that do those sort of things.

Placing a hand over Feliciano's, Ludwig felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. Giving it a soft squeeze, he slowly drew his face closer.

Feliciano's lashes lowered over his golden eyes and gently flushed, raising his chin a bit.

The sharp ringing of the telephone on the desk jerked Germany out of his rose tinted world and back to reality. "Coming!" he shouted over enthusiastically, his entire face burning in shame.

Practically leaping across the room, Ludwig snatches the phone up. "Ha-hallo?"

On the other end, a screaming Spain screeched into the unsuspecting German's ear. "Germany! GERMANY! HELP! Something's wrong with Romano!"

In the background there could be heard the loud pounding on the door. "Toni! Toni chan! Let me iiiiin!"

"I'm scared! I'm scared!" Antonio bawled into the phone. "He drank from this wine bottle he got from Feliciano and suddenly we- WAAAARGH!"

Ludwig could hear the cracking of wood and screams of an overly cheerful Romano. "Antonio chan! Gimmie hugs! Hug me, hug me, hug me! And kisses! Kissy! Kissy! Kissy! Kissy!"

Over the barrage of chaos on the other line, something the man said clicked in the Ludwig's mind.


Now that he recalled, Feliciano had placed a bottle on the desk. So then he didn't imagine it all. But that means...

The phone suddenly clicked and the line falls to and endless dial tone. A shuddering chill washes over him when he spies a finger pressing down the receiver.

"Cattivo, cattivo, Doitsu..." Feliciano purred into the man's ear, plucking the from his hand, "It's very rude to ignore your tasty pasta dish..." A hot tongue lapped inside his ear.

Ludwig gulped, his face bursting red. So those times actually...

He let out a yelp when Feliciano reached between his legs and began rubbing his crotch through the layer of clothing.

"I had intended to give you some serious disciplinary action, but you where just so sweet a moment ago that I've decided to forgive you... For a price." Holding the man's strong jaw between his fingers, he slowly turned it toward him. "Feed me some delicious German wurst..."

Sweat dripped from the German soldier's brow and tried to hold his breath when his pulse spiked like a rocket.

He didn't know how it happened, or why. But right now he was at the mercy of this polar opposite Feliciano.


Germany gasped a moan, his head titling back to gulp for air. Laying naked on the bed, his wrists were cuffed to a long tether that looped under the bed and connected with the other wrist; allowing only the bare minimum of movement. When something pleasurable sparked, his hands would try to shoot up, but the restraints kept them in place.

Sprawled on top the sweating form in a 69 position, Feliciano, dressed in nothing but Ludwig's coat, ravenously feasted upon the man's cock. How nicely the smooth texture felt upon his tongue that savored every salty drop. He massaged his plump balls in the palm of his hand, licking them every so often.

"I love the taste of your hot wurst, Doitsu. So hot and salty..." Dangling his manhood over Ludwig's face, he offers a wiggle. "Taste mine too, Doitsu. Tell me if you like Italian sausage..."

Ludwig felt the tip touch his lip and opened his mouth to swirl his tongue around the tip. The smaller man's cock slid into his mouth and throbbed being encased in heat.

"Does it taste good?" Feliciano asked, groaning at the man's tongue and lowering his hips.

"Ja... gut..." he panted, licking the length and gulping it greedily. "Gut... So gut..."

Italy moaned happily, stroking Ludwig's member in time with the other's mouth.

Ludwig gasped, jerking his hips and lavishing Feliciano's cock with soft sweeps of his tongue and long draws into his mouth. Slipping his tongue past his balls, he laves the perineum and lightly nips it.

"Oh, what a naughty German doggy we have here." the Italian chuckled, rubbing his bottom into his face. "We can't have you licking down there, you haven't earned the right yet..." Returning to the man's erection, he continued his actions of gulping and licking, only slowing it down and making it ache.

Ludwig's face tensed, his entire body throbbing. Oh Gott, he was purposely grazing his teeth on his tip.

Releasing the member in his mouth, Feliciano turns around to hover over the man's face and grind him anus along his length. "Do Ludwig want me to eat up his hot wurst?" he taunted, rocking his hips slowly.

"I vant... I vant it..." Ludwig begged, losing his mind.

Smiling, Feliciano picked up the bottle of lubricant, usually hidden under the bed, and oozes a large amount onto his fingers. "Then I'd better make my other mouth water for it."

Crawling up, he braces his knees on either side of the blonde man's head and strokes his fingers along his hole. Slicking the area up, he slips a couple fingers in.

Ludwig gulped from where he was, his eyes unable to look away. He had a full view of the Italian's fingers squishing into his lovely opening that made the most sweetest wet noises he'd ever heard.

Those digits plunged all the way to the knuckle and withdrew with a wet coating, each time adding more and more fingers.

He grunted pleasurably when they stretched the opening so he could see inside.

Italy finished preparing himself and extracted his fingers. Still coated in lubricant, he reaches back and slicks up Ludwig's cock. "I'm so hungry back here, Ludwig..." he purred, rubbing the tip of that erection.

Feliciano crawled onto all fours, raising his bottom in the air. Reaching back, he spreads his cheeks to expose his winking bud. "Please feed me..." he smirked in a sexy voice. Then he lowered himself on the hot rod.

The hot depths sheathed tightly around Germany, making his body jerk as his dick melted inside.

Feliciano rose and fell on the meat, crying out each time it plunged in deeper and deeper into his core. It made it even more pleasurable when Ludwig began thrusting his pelvis to meet his rhythm. Italy panted, closing his eyes and losing himself in the blazing sexual bliss that was burning up his very soul. This was hat he wanted. This was what he craved!

Ludwig equally burned with need, but wanted desperately to hold the slender man in his arms. To kiss him. To touch every inch of skin.

As if reading his mind, Feliciano pulled off and turned around to un cuff him. "You've been a very good boy, Ludwig..." he panted heavily, his eyes glazed in lust, "Now doggy can have his bone."

Jumping up from the bed, Ludwig pins the smaller man beneath him and sinks back into those welcoming depths.

He was on fire. His soul was melting, and the fire was caused by this fiendish red head beneath him. He's make him suffer for his humiliations. Torture him for daring to tease a beast like him.

Ripping his coat open, he pulls on Feliciano's nipples, biting his neck as he slapped powerfully into him. His vision was going white, losing all sense of control.

Feliciano screamed in ecstasy, curling his toes tightly and nearing the edge on unconsciousness. No, not yet. He wanted them to come on his command.

Smirking wickedly, he licks his fingers wetly and reaches around Germany's hips to touch his anus.

Ludwig froze, shooting him a panicked look. "Feliciano! Wha- AH!" But the fingers pushed inside.

Feliciano was flushed, his whole body slick with sweat. Looking up at the lover above him, he licked his lips wantonly and answered in a deep, sexually aroused tone. "Voglio darti un assaggio del paradiso, amore mio." Then his fingers press against his prostate.

Ludwig howled, his hips jumping and thrusting rapidly with renewed frenzy. But it wasn't fast enough. Those fingers repeatedly ground into that spot, making stars spark before his eyes. Then...

Both of their prostates were hit unanimously and both yelled out their release.

What little consciousness the Italian had vanished and he blacked out with a pleasured 'Vee.'

When Ludwig regained his senses, he lay on the bed, tangled in the soiled sheets that smelled of hot lovemaking. He twinged a bit, feeling himself tingle from behind.

Looking over at the Italian, he observed the peaceful expression of slumber that adorned his face. The same sleepy face he knew and adored. Pulling him into his chest, he stroked that damp hair soothingly and closed his eyes, listening to the soft beating of his heart.

What happened? How did this Feliciano turn into the other? How could it have happened? And what was this mysterious bottle that he had? Did that have something in it to turn the regular Italy into that confident, overly sexually hungry sadist?

He gulped a little. If he was honest, that version was hot and kinky and made his head spin.

The soft snuffles of Feliciano drew back his attention.

Feliciano opened his soft golden eyes, and looked up at him. He smiled in his tender manner and nuzzled his cheek on his arm. "Ludwig..." he spoke lovingly.

That smile shot like and arrow through his heart. Pulling the other closer, he kissed him breathless and rolled on top of him.

Naughty Feliciano was nice, but he'd never have enough helpings of this Feliciano.

In the end no one knew what really happened. The bottle had vanished and England had all together stored the book away, never wanting to touch it again after failing so miserably.

Antonio had gained a renewed adoration and fear for Romano after that freak out. Of course Romano would be unable to move for days because of it and absolutely refused to see his brother for the next month.

After the whole ordeal, Germany was glad to find Italy had returned to normal, but now had a few new problems.

France would visit his house constantly with whips, chains, candles and disgusting sexual objects and begging for the Italian to punish him for being a bad boy.

Gilbert, for some reason, kept insisting about getting together and showing swords and guns, and seconds. He really had no idea what he was talking about.

Feliciano had no real memory of the ordeal, but was happy because he got to have pasta for dinner.


Deep in the alcoves in England's home, the man scoured the shelves for a proper spell to punish America with. He'd never live it down how he was swept away by that bastard and spent the next eight glorious hours finding out how flexible he was.

His eyes spot a particular spell that looked interesting.

"Summoning doppelgangers?" Arthur grinned.


Scopiamo, baby. - Lets fuck, baby.

Chiudi il becco, sexy. - Shut up, sexy.

Voglio il tuo cazzo, non le tue parole.- I want your cock, not your words.

Perché non impari a chiudere quella cazzo di bocca?-Why don't you learn to shut the fuck up?

Così carino – So cute.

Troppo facile – Too easy

Voglio darti un assaggio del paradiso, amore mio - I want to give you a glimpse of paradise, my love.


Der Deutsche, den Sie versuchen zu erreichen, ist im Moment nicht verfügbar. Bitte rufen Sie später erneut an. Beeeeep. - The German you are trying to reach is unavailable at the moment. Please call again later. Beeeeep.

Wer zum Teufel war das?! - Who the hell was this!?

Verdammt! Zu Hilfe! Warte, keine Hilfe! Nein, bitte helft mir, aber haltet eure Augen geschlossen.! -Damn it! Someone help! Wait, don't help! No, come help but keep your eyes shut!

Kalte Dusche- Cold Shower

Was? - What?

Warum fasst du dorthin?!- Why are you touching there?!

Du Monster! - You beast!


Oh mon doux petit chérubin- Oh my sweet little cherub.

S'il vous plaît permettre à ce diable de vous envoyer à un autre niveau du ciel- Please allow this devil to send you to another level of heaven.

Putain de merde – Holy shit