The Adventures Of IKEA
By America's Lover

Warning(s): Offensive language, public sex and scenes of a homosexual nature. Don't like, don't read- I did warn you.

Disclaimer: Author does not own Hetalia - the rights belong to Himaruya. Nor does the author own IKEA. Although it would be rather cool if I did own the furniture store, I would totally use it as a setting for porn videos.

A/N: This was a request from my wonderful friend about eight months ago. Whoops, I'm too much of a procrastinator.

{Miya: I know you've been feeling down about everything honey, and I finally wrote this for you so maybe it will cheer you up, if only for a little while.}

o~O~o

We had been wandering around IKEA for hours and I was totally, utterly, mind-numbingly bored.

Berwald was far ahead in front of me; his strong, lean legs carrying him forward quick as ever to the sharp curve in the store where the bedroom department was. Half a mile away, I traipsed behind my pretty yet well- built lover, my mind chanting the word 'boring' over and over and over again as we walked past an endless array of neatly cluttered furniture, my feet making a subtle soft whoosh as I moved them purposefully one foot in front of the other.

Usually I didn't mind coming to the too-large superstore; more than happy to nom on delicously cooked swedish meetballs as Sve and I picked out the furniture we would have in our beautifully-decorated home once we left Denmark, and me hiding in the many different oak wardrobes in a make-believe land of Narnia (although Sve always named me childish and silly after those moments), but today, however, was different. Today we had been forced to purchase the new bed Mathias had chosen, the bastard too lazy and having too much fun making pillow forts with his 'norge' to do it himself.

Sometimes that Dane really got on my wick.

"Fin?" Startled, I realised Ber had stopped and was currently addressing me, pointing at the small (in comparison to the store) Swedish confectionary shop to the side of us. I guessed he was asking if I wanted anything from there, but I mumbled a quick "hmm?" at him just in case. Sometimes his heavy accent confused me.

"Do yer want anyth'ng t'eat, Fin?" Berwald stared at me through thin-framed glasses. I could vaguely see my reflection in them and I idly wondered in the back of my mind if my hair had stuck up like that all day. I hoped not; it looked god awful.

"No thanks," I told him politely, attempting to flatten down my stubborn, curly strands of hair. "I still have some of the liquorice you bought me earlier left." I fingered the envelope-sized blue packet in my trouser pocket to make sure it was still present, snagging myself a piece in the process.. It was good; sticky with an intense flavour, however not quite as good as my own home-made liquorice. Then again nothing beat my own salmiakki.

Sweden nodded curtly at me, shaking his head when I offered him a piece of the candy, and went back to walking silently. Unfortunately, he often found it incredibly hard to speak anything other than his own language, which made room for rather awkward, annoying conversation sometimes, mainly conversing in what little English he and I knew. A few years back, I had tried persistantly to teach him Finnish but alas he just couldn't grasp it, so now mostly we kept a companionable silence, choosing to express our emotions using hand signals and facial expressions. Thinking about it, I believe our lack of communication and instant knowledge of what the other was gesturing to freaked the other nations out. Or maybe it's just Ber who scares them. One or the other anyway; the nations didn't seem to interact with us that much.

I followed after Berwald, still sucking on my now tiny piece of liquorice, this time catching up to him completely and walking swiftly alongside him.

Past the messy array of furniture, we went, Berwald scrutinizing the place looking for Denmark's wooden bed frame, me contemplating hiding in the corners just for fun. Seriously, this trip was boring.

At last we found the bed, luckily before I ran off and started a game of 'hide and seek' that would be sure to infuriate Ber. Of course, because Mathias was a complete ass, it was tucked away neatly in the far corner of the third floor, hiding completely from view. We only found it because Sve was so tall and could see over everything. I dread to think what it would have been like if it was just me looking for it, because if I had been on my own: number one- i don't know my way around the store as well as Berwald does (seriously, he spends so much time here that I'm always constantly worried he will leave me for his beloved IKEA), and number two - I'm about as tall as an elf, which isn't very tall. And if you think that it is then you, my friend, have seen some weird ass elf movies.

Looking at the bed, I saw that it was beautifully carved; a real art of wonderful craftsmanship. You could tell that someone had spent a heck of amount of time building it, which was odd for this store seen as every piece of furniture in here- heck probably even the lamps- you had to build yourself. Even I could appreciate its beauty. And the only thing that I believe to be beautiful is the look of coffee in a morning (and Berwald of course.)

Beside me, I heard Berwald sigh quietly. I looked over at him, a questioning look on my adorable features. He was staring pointedly at the label attached to the four poster canopy frame, stating that this was the last bed and anyone who wanted to buy it would have to take it as it was, without the flatpacked packaging.

This time it was I who sighed. Trust Mathias to be so fucking awkward.

Annoyed for my husband (because let's face it, it wouldn't be me lugging this to the car), I huffed and threw myself dramatically down on the cushy red silk bedcovers. I was exhausted, and the bed was comfortable. Berwald sat timidly on the edge of the bed, probably too worried that the IKEA sales assistant would come over and scold us for 'ruining' the furniture.

I scoffed out loud, ignoring Berwald's look of utter confusion. Just sitting on it wouldn't ruin the bed.

But I knew what would.

"Sve?" I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at my husband, a picture of perfect innocence on my face. "Sve, I have an idea."

My recent husband of seven months peered at me through his stylish rectangular frames, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, evidently knowing that whenever my face gave an expression of pure, unadulterated incorruption, I was usually scheming something incredibly suggestive and naughty.

"Wh't?" He questioned, leaning over to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, his voice deep and slightly concerned. "Wh't are yer thinking?"

Placing my finger to my lips I whispered "shhh" and crawled across the soft bedding to him, peeking around the corner first to make sure no-one could see us. Satisfied that nobody could, I settled myself on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and moving his lips closer to mine.

"Wh't are yer doing Tino?" He whispered, but I ignored him and kissed him with fever, effectively silencing him. I ran my fingers down his back slightly, touching the small dip at his hips that only I knew made him weak. He shivered involuntarily and hurriedly pushed me from his legs so I fell backwards onto the bed.

"Tino! Wh't has gotten into yer?! We can't do th't!"

I sat up again, shaking my head at him.

"Ber, please? You've made me walk around this huge store all day trying to find this stupid bed for Mathias and I haven't even got anything in return! Please?" I opened my eyes wide at him, opting for the adorable puppy look, but he still didn't comply, turning his head away from me so he was facing a very pretty soft-wood bookshelf.

Wrapping my arms around him, I leant up close near his ear and whispered something that I knew would make him at least think about the idea.

"Besides, seen as this really is the last bed in here that Mathias wanted, we could always you know… christen it for him." Berwald turned back to look at me, and I saw his eyes go wide. I chuckled mentally (because it would've put him off if I had laughed out loud) as he contemplated what I just said. I knew he hated Mathias with a passion (why we still lived in the same house as him I have never understood) and anything that annoyed or undermined Mathias in the slightest was a win to him, regardless of the consequences.

My lovely, cautious husband looked around for any signs of store-workers, and I resisted rolling my eyes because I had only just checked, before nodding curtly at me.

"F'ne. But only 'cause I can't resist yer when yer g've me that look. And because I h'te Mathias."

Clapping my hands together in delight, I flung my arms around Berwald to hug him. I wasn't quite sure why I was so excited, it wasn't like we didn't have an interesting sex life because believe me we did, it was just more arousing in the middle of a store. The thrill of being caught and the added bonus that Mathias would be thoroughly pissed off if he found out what we had done. Plus, it was ever so rare of Berwald to act reckless; his nature too careful, too orderly for a bit of fun sometimes, and I had to take the chances when they were thrown at me.

Pushing Ber down on the bed, I attached myself to the pale, white skin of his neck, roughly sucking to make harsh marks that spoke of pain and pleasure.. He whimpered underneath me when I bit down on a particularly sensitive patch, and I revelled in the fact that I could pull out such enticing noises without barely even touching him.

I shifted my position so that I now straddled him, my legs wrapped around his muscled thighs. I continued my soft kisses, my hands trailing down with gentle careful movements, slipping underneath the blue-grey t-shirt that I loved because it outlined his abs so well. Lightly I stroked across his skin, the smooth muscles twitching under my fingers as he wriggled impatiently underneath me; my teasing touches not enough for his kinky nature.

I laughed at his eagerness, finding it funny considering he didn't want me to do anything a moment ago, and I lean forward, this time pushing his shirt up languidly and kissing his chest, moving lower and lower until I reached his hips. His breathing shot up a notch, harsh and jagged, as I ran my tongue along the length of his hips, nipping my teeth around the area of his belly button.

This, I knew, drove Sweden wild.

His hands curled at my sides, gripping at my as I pulled back the waistband of his trousers and bit along his right hipbone, creating a new love bite to match the others made only days before. Ber let out a groan- one that sounded slightly pained- and I looked up at him, winking mischievously at his aroused features.

He shivered, his strong hands now running up my sides to slide underneath my jumper and hold onto my waist, digging his fingers in harshly, renewing the bruises that were left there from last time. I slid up his body, slow and sensual, capturing his lip between my teeth and biting gently before drawing him into a bruising kiss. He kissed me back with fire, pulling my lithe body flush against him, the rough fabric of my jumper grazing erotically over his chest as we moved with the flow of the kiss.

We kissed for a while; urgent, harsh and intoxicating, until finally I pull away for breath, pulling the much-needed air into my lungs as I gaze over my husband, admiring the masculine beauty he holds. He looked the picture of perfection: his toned body marked with fading ownership from the last times we made love, his glasses lopsided on the bridge of his nose and his clear blue eyes glancing up at me with such love, such admiration and trust that it warms my heart.

I leaned down and kiss him again, gentler this time, my hands smoothing across his thighs as I deftly undo the button on his lined trousers. My fingers worked their way into his underwear, stroking his length with rough caresses.

"T'no.." He breathed, his voice aching with a familiar want. He looked in so much pleasure, his eyes closed and his breathing hitching each time I twisted my hand and stroked. I wanted to please him further, and so, pushing the trousers and underwear to pool at his ankles, I dipped my head down, kissing the tip of his dick, my dick. I swipe my tongue gently, teasingly across the top and Ber moans quietly, the sound spurring me on to push him deeper down my throat.

His hips spasmed beneath me, and I gripped them tightly, effectively stopping him from choking me. My other hand worked the base of his dick, smoothing over the veiny skin, my mouth slipping over the only half I could fit (he is pretty huge) and my tongue licking at the underside. Reaching his hands up to nest in my already messed up hair, Ber let moans spill from his lips, his fingers tightening and pulling at my locks in a way that renders me crazy for him. He knows that my fine strands of hair are a weakness, and so I grazed my teeth across his length, biting gently as a reward, and he moaned again, a little louder this time, his fingers gripping tightly to my scalp. Feeling him close I kiss the tip once more and pull off, the subtle pop audible to only us in the near-empty store.

Crawling over to him, nestling my ass between his legs, I swipe across my bottom lip at an irritation of pre-come that sits there. Berwald leans forward and kisses me with hotness, his appreciation thrown into the kiss, and this time pushes me down onto the bed. He regarded me with an erotic look, one that let me know I was going to be ravished until I cried out with too much pleasure, and detached himself from my lips, instead kissing a pathway down my neck and across my collarbone. I could feel the weight of him on my thigh as he lifted up my jumper and kissed down my chest, reaching my hips and tormentingly licking his tongue just above my crotch.

He chuckled when I whined with impatience- a light, airy sound that relaxed his face a little, making him appear more handsome- and proceeded to undo the buttons of my jeans, pulling down the zipper with his teeth and winking playfully. I groaned, unused to this fun side of my husband, and watched him take off my jeans and battered converse completely, shoving them to the floor in his haste.

He kissed me long and hard once more and then realised that the things we needed were still wrapped neatly in my jeans pocket, sitting next to the crumpled, half eaten bag of Swedish liquorice. Stretching out his long arms, Berwald fumbled his hands into my trouser pocket, pulling out the condom we needed and ripping it open with his able hands . I took the packet from him, the chocolate flavour drifting subtly to my nose and reminding me of the time we bought fuck loads of Nutella and licked it off of each other last time we went to Switzerland (maybe that's why he hates, although i always thought he just hated everyone apart from his dick buddy Austria.) My hand steady, I reached above me to roll the latex over his hard length, drawing the action out with a twisting and turning of my hands, pulling a moan from him.

When I pulled away, Berwald positioned himself over me, forgoing my preparation because there wasn't enough time before we would (inevitably) be caught, and because I kind of liked it incredibly rough. He pushed in with one stroke, myself wincing a little as pain courses its way through my ass. Berwald stopped, frowning at my pained expression, but I just shaked my head at him in exasperation, driving my hips up and back down again with a snap, getting him to move inside me.

He moaned, breathing ragged, his hands slipping up my jumper to curl and claw up my back; a sensitive spot of mine. I give an answering moan underneath him and he thrusts into me roughly, his dick touching the little bundle of nerves first time and making me cry out, sending immaculate jolts of pleasure down my spine. Having spent the last two years together he knows exactly where my sensitive prostate is, and he wasted no time on hitting it with every other stroke, his strong, lean arms holding onto me with a tightness that almost certainly left bruises; every day reminders that mark me in a way only he can do.

He continued impaling my weak spot, his hands still dragging and clawing up my back with abundant fever, his slight moans and heavy breathing turning me on in a way that was indescribable, too hot for anyone to imagine. I wrapped my legs around his waist tighter, gripping his ass with my hands and urging him to go faster, rougher, and he complied, shoving into me particularly hard. I screamed, the pleasure burning, heating, searing through my entire body, arching my back to an impossible angle with each thrust. Berwald covered my mouth with his hand, shushing me quietly, trying to warn me that we weren't at home, and that we could have been caught any minute.

I lay there, twisting my body in ecstasy as he moved deeper in and out of me, the sensation of being gagged by his wonderful hands only serving to bring me closer, faster, to the edge of release. Berwald continued to snap his hips forward, hard and fast, and soon my saliva covered his palm, my moans too difficult to suppress, even with the make-shift gag.

The rough palm of his hands scraping across my skin, I heard Berwald growl and I looked up, seeing that he was close. His lip was caught between his teeth, biting down and drawing blood to stop him from shouting out, his eyes closed in pure euphoria as he thrust into me erratically, too caught up in the wonderful bliss to keep up an orderly, controlled rhythm. I felt him immerse himself farther into my body and I arched even further, the incredible pain mixed with the wonderful pleasure, creating a mixture of hot, erotic enjoyment. It was far too much and I came with a muffled scream, my body convulsing without him even touching me, my mouth still trapped shut beneath his hand.

Berwald released only a few moments later, his fingers grasping impossibly tight at my hips, the tightening of the muscles in my ass squeezing impossibly and coaxing his orgasm from him.

He collapsed on top of me, his chest contracting quickly from the rate of his breathing. I lay my head back, shifting my hand up to push the strands of hair from my face, and wipe the sweat that formed in little beads on my hairline and neck.

"Woah," I breathed, leaning up to kiss my husband's cheek briefly. Berwald nodded, still catching his breath, and wrapped a sweaty arm around me, cuddling me and momentarily forgetting just exactly where we were. I rested my head on his shoulder for a second, my hair tickling his skin, and then I looked up at the blush red canopy above the bed.

Mathias would honestly hate us if he ever found out. I giggled childishly, the exhilarant weight of the naughty thing we had just done pressing down on me with force and I sat up on the wonderfully comfy bed, ignoring Berwald's extremely confused look. I bent over to grab at my clothes, the after- feeling of an intoxicating orgasm still filling me with wondrous pleasure, until I heard the quiet "excuse me" coming from the side.

I blushed profusely, covering my bits and turning to look at the voice, seeing that Berwald had already managed to half-dress himself into a decent state. A woman was stood at the end of the bed, and judging by the blue and yellow uniform shirt she was wearing I guessed that she was an employee at the beloved IKEA. Her stern, middle-age-wrinkled face did not look happy -like she had just realised that Johnny Depp was already married or something- and I hurried myself to pull some clothes on before she threw us out onto the street via the nearest window.

Berwald stood up, looking at the woman and using his hidden charm (the one that usually only comes out at christmas) to try and explain to her that we were the ones actually buying the bed. I don't think it really helped that he couldn't speak much English, and eventually she wouldn't buy any of it and called security to throw us not-so-gracefully out of the door.

Expecting Berwald to cry at being kicked ass first out of his favourite store, I walked swiftly back over to him once outside and tried to hug him comfortingly. He just chuckled- a sound I so rarely ever heard- and then kissed me gently on the lips once, mussing up my recently smoothed down strands of hair. Looking at him questioningly, I kissed him back, wondering why the hell he was laughing and not crying on my shoulder like I indeedly expected him to. He looked back at me and smiled- a smile so beautiful and ethereal that it weakened my already soft and fragile heart- and, adjusting the glasses up to the bridge of his nose, said to me, still chuckling quietly:

"Well, if yer can't m'ke love in an alm'st empty IKEA place..wh're can yer m'ke love.."

And that, is the end, of that story.

-FIN-

A/N: Please don't try and think about this plot logically, it really doesn't make sense in logical terms. And I have been to IKEA before you ask, several times in fact- it's a very magical place. There are probs typos in this fanfic, I really cannot be arsed proofreading, forgive me.

Don't forget to Review! It will make me so happy if you do!~

(Constructive criticism is appreciated but even if you just put a little comment like 'yes' if you like it, or 'no' if you really didn't I promise I'll be happy with that.)