OK, so I will admit this is likely not historicaly accurate. That's not the point of this story and I'm really tired so I didn't feel like running around doing all sorts of research to make sure it was accurate. Sorry. But please enjoy...and also...I still do not own Hetalia.
This could not be Germany. Italy stared at the creature before him, those wicked blue eyes, glazed over with hatred and blood lust, those large war torn hands, stained with the blood of the innocent, and that disgusting red band around his upper arm, with that horrid symbol. The swastica. Italy looked down at his own arm and the matching red band that was wound around it. Disgusting. Scary. Horrible. He glanced back up at his German ally. He was glaring daggars at him. Why is it, Italy wondered, that once Germany had made him feel so safe, but now he felt that if he messed up even once Germany would kill him. He backed away from the monster that had consumed his friend, trembling. This wasn't Germany. This was what his boss had made him. Italy turned to look out at the internment camp they were staying at for the night. Grotesquely thin women and children looked back at him, they looked tired and sick and in pain. He watched smoke and ash billow out of a tall chimney, regretting the day he had asked about the smoke and the smell, wishing he could still be ignorant. But he could not. Faced with all the death and destruction and torment that he was helpig cause, Italy could no longer feign ignorance. He felt dirty, and wicked and oh, so guilty. He wanted out.
Italy returned his attention to the German monster who had once been his friend. He loved Germany, he really did, but this was wrong. He couldn't do this anymore. He glared irritably at the red sash around his upper arm. With shaking fingers he gripped the sash, matching gazes with those harsh blue eyes. Looking scared to death he ripped the red cloth off his arm and bolted out the door, hearing loud bootfalls and angry yelling behind him, but he didn't stop, flying out into the night and becoming immediatly drenched by the pouring rain that had driven them into the internment camp in the first place.
Italy ran and ran, the darkness around him was scary, but the most frightening thing was behind him. Germany. Who knew if he was still being chased? It was possible. So he kept going, until he finally reached a familiar house. He pounded desperatly on the door.
"Si-" An angry Romano wrenched the door open, his eyes widening in shock before narrowing to glare at his brother.
"Fratello! Fratello!" Italy sobbed, and Romano's eyes softened immediatly.
"What happened, Italy?" Romano asked, still edgy, but his brother's tears making it impossible for him to be angry.
"Germany..he's...he's gotten really scary...he took me into one of the camps...so many people..sick...dying...dead...I can't believe I was a part of that! I'm sorry! Mi dispace!" Italy began crying for real as he thought of the hell that he had helped bring about.
"Come in, Italy. Get dried off before you catch a cold." Romano ordered, stripping his brother of his coat and showing him to the bathroom, tossing in some of his own clothes.
"Thank you, Fratello." Italy whimpered. Romano inwardly cursed that German bastard for leaving his poor little brother like this.
"Was' goin' on, Roma?" Spain yawned sleepily, padding into their living room.
"Italy." Romano answered. "That German bastard took him into one of those death camps. He's...well, he's scared."
"Poor Ita-chan." Spain sighed. "Is he staying here then?"
"Well, I'm not letting him go back!" Romano snapped.
"Awww, Lovi, such a good big brother!" Spain reached out to embrace Romano, nuzzling the top of his head.
"Get off, bastard!" Romano griped, shoving the other harshly.
"Fratello..." Italy called out, stepping out the bathroom, a towel draped loosely over his head.
"Dry off, idiota!" Romano snapped again, reaching out to take hold of the towel himself, tussling the younger one's hair dry.
"Well, good night you two. Get some sleep." Spain instructed, stumbling back up to bed. Romano rolled his eyes, grumbling about tomato bastards. Italy smiled sadly.
"Can I really stay with you, fratello? Is this really OK?" Italy looked hopefully up at his brother.
"S-si. It's OK, you can stay here. I'm not letting you go back to that bastard Germany. What he's doing is sick, I won't let my brother be a part of it." Romano led Italy up to his room, laying down on the bed and pulling his brother down with him. "Now, get some sleep, you need it." Italy began to cry, burrowing his head into his brother's chest.
"It's all so wrong." He cried tears for all the lives lost, and for the loss of his best friend. Romano glared at him for a moment, before his eyes softened and he wrapped his arms around Italy, comforting him gently.
"It's OK, fratello. We'll make it right, the allies will make it right, and you can help us." Italy nodded. Making it right...that sounded good. He drifted off to sleep peacefully for the first time since this awful war had started.
It felt like forever since Italy had seen or heard from Germany. He enjoyed being with the allies, they were fighting the good fight and he felt so good about helping people. And now the best thing that could happen had happened. The war was over. That monster that had taken his best friend away from him, Hitler, was dead. It had been a little over a year since the war had ended, and the allies had kept him busy. Mostly he did a lot of cooking for those from the camps, and helping to match them up with their loved ones, as well as lots of rebuilding. He liked it, no, scratch that, he loved it.
But now, after so long, he was going to visit Germany. Things in his country had settled down quite a lot by now, but there was still some turmoil. Many of the death camps had been destroyed, but there was still the reminder of all those deaths if you looked hard enough. To tell the truth, Italy was afraid. He didn't want to see Germany the way he had been during the war, he wanted to see the Germany that had existed before the war. His kind and caring friend, the one who protected and helped him. He wished someone would come with him, but everyone was still mad about what had happened. Someone needed to go, however, considering no one had seen him since the end of the war.
"Mr. Germany!" Italy yelled, knocking loudly on the door.
"Mr. Germany!" When no response was received he used the spare key, smiling to see it was still in the same place. He ran through the house, calling for his friend. Finally he came to Germany's bedroom, and he searched every inch of it, finally finding Germany huddled in a corner of the bathroom. His hair was a mess, his clothes were crumpled, and there were tear stains down his face.
"Germany...are you alright?" Italy asked, placing a hand on his friends shoulder. Germany jumped, looking up to meet his former ally's glance.
"What are you doing here?" Germany demanded, turning his head, unable to keep his eyes on the Italian. He felt so bad about what happened, he just wanted to disappear.
"I'm here to see you of course! Silly." Italy removed his hand from Germany's shoulder, replacing it with his head as he nuzzled the German gently.
"Why would you want to see me? I'm a monster. You're afraid of me. You left me." Germany muttered.
"Germany...I left because I had to, please don't hate me for it. And no, you're not a monster." At this, Germany looked up with curiosity. Not a monster? Was that possible? After all he had done?
"I don't...hate you. You did the right thing...although I hate to admit it." Germany said. "But I am a monster Italy. I lost my humanity this time around, look at all the lives I took!"
"Germany, do you regret what happened? Do you feel bad?"
"Yes, of course I do, but what does that matter."
"Monsters don't feel regret, Germany. What you did was wrong, but you know that now. A monster would laugh at the hurt and pain he caused. You have been beating yourself up since the war ended, haven't you?" Germany nodded, paying rapt attention to every word Italy was saying. "Then it's time to let it go. The other countries will forgive you eventually, just like I have. It was your boss that made the decisions and called the shots, but he's dead now. It's time to move on from that part of your life and get on with a brighter future."
"So..then, you don't hate me? You aren't...afraid of me?" Germany was stunned beyond belief.
"No. Not at all." Tears began slipping down Germany's face as Italy said this, stubbornly refusing to stop. Italy smiled sweetly and shifted to wrap his arms around his friend, pulling the blonde's head gently into his shoulder. Surprising them both, Germany wrapped his own arms around the smaller nation, burying his head in Italy's shoulder as he cried out for all the death he had caused.
"Shhhhh. It's OK, Germany, it's over now. It's alright. You're not a monster. It's alright." Italy murmured, holding Germany close and stroking the other man's hair as he let him cry it out. Germany needed this, and Italy knew it.
It could have been an hour before Germany finally stopped crying, but finally the tears subsided. Of course, Germany, being Germany, would never own up to the fact that he had, in fact, cried. But Italy was OK with that. He was happy to be the only one allowed to see this side of Germany, happy to be the one who was trusted with the larger man's tears.
"Germany...do you feel better now?" Italy asked, winding the blond locks of hair gently around his fingers.
"Yeah..." Germany nodded against Italy's shoulder, reluctant to pull away in case this turned out to be just a dream. The soft scent of herbs and earth reached his nose. If this was a dream, it was a realistic one.
"I missed you, Germany." Italy said softly, sadly. "Even before I left, when you were still there but you weren't you. And then the entire time I was away from you, I missed you every minute. I came to see you as soon as I could, but it wasn't nearly soon enough. I don't want to be apart from you anymore, Germany!"
"I…..Italy….I missed you too…." Germany spoke softly, so it was hard to hear, but Italy picked the words up anyway, a happy smile gracing his face as he pulled away to meet eyes with the German.
"Ti amo, Germany." He whispered, lowering his forehead to rest against Germany's. Two ice blue eyes widened suddenly at the admission. He stared at his friend and former ally. How did he respond? What words were appropriate here? He…felt the same way, but how was he supposed to say it?
"I-ich….ich liebe…dich auch…..Italy." The words came out of his mouth before he could even think them over, and a rosy blush stained his cheeks when he realized what he had said. Italy smiled at him again, not a happy smile per say, but more of a gentle, loving smile. Germany's heart skipped a beat, and then another.
"Yaaaay." Italy cooed, nuzzling Germany's neck again before letting out a childish giggle. "Germany needs a bath."
"Uh…well….Ja….I suppose I do." Germany said. Italy laughed.
"Come on then, I can wash your back for you!" Italy chirped, turning on the shower and shedding his clothes as Germany watched him and blushed beet red. But, he figured, they were both guys…it wasn't anything either of them had never seen before, right?
Well if that were true, why couldn't Germany take his eyes off the Italian. Italy blushed softly, feeling the German's eyes on him, but shrugged off his embarrassment and pushed his friend into the shower. Germany really had to work hard at holding back his desires as Italy washed him slowly. If he had looked over his shoulder he would have seen the devious smirk on Italy's face. The smaller nation was enjoying this, loving the feel of Germany's skin beneath his hands, and adoring the way he was able to draw just barely audible gasps every now and again. He washed the German's hair as well, and Germany stepped back towards him a bit and leaning his head into the touches. As Italy's hands massaged the shampoo into his scalp, Germany wondered how it could feel so nice just to have his hair washed by another. Then he realized. He hadn't felt a soft touch from any other person in an impossibly long time. He'd missed the contact, and this man's contact in particular.
Finally, Italy rinsed Germany carefully and turned off the water, handing a towel to the larger man.
"Vee~ Why don't you get dried off and dressed, while I start dinner!" Italy said, throwing on one of Germany's massive shirts. Germany nodded and began to dry off as Italy skipped down the stairs. A small cry of "Pasta~" was heard and Germany couldn't help but smile. He hadn't realized until today just how much he'd missed the Italian. He wasn't sure he could ever let him go again.
Germany sat at the table watching Italy make dinner. Pasta, wurst and potatoes. That way everybody would be happy. The larger nation couldn't help but smile at the other man's consideration…and also blush at the nice expanse of thigh peeking out from beneath his shirt. Germany found himself adoring the way his shirt fit Italy.
Dinner was delicious, and Germany finally noticed how hungry he was. He ate a bit of everything, and paid Italy a few awkward complements. No matter how stuttered and reluctant the words were, Italy knew Germany meant them and happiness bubbled up inside him at the kind words.
"Ve~ Germany, what do you want to do now? We could watch T.V. for a while." Italy suggested while the washed the last of the dishes. Germany nodded in agreement. Anything to keep the Italian by his side for a while longer. He didn't want to be alone again, though he hated to admit to it.
Italy cheered quietly and literally frolicked into the living room, Germany following close behind and chuckling at his childishness. He turned the TV on to one of his usual channels and sat down stiffly on one end of the couch. Somehow Italy managed to take up the rest of the space available, legs swinging easily over the arm of the couch, his head settled into Germany's lap as he drifted off to sleep, instead of actually watching T.V. Germany just looked down at his ally, not sure whether he was amused, or pissed off, and finally just deciding it was kind of cute, he rested his hand on Italy's abdomen, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across the area through his shirt. Italy sighed happily in his sleep, cuddling up close to his friend. Germany turned his attention to the T.V., and the horror film that was currently playing. It was a good one with decent actors, a quick pace and decent blood and special effects. He was soon lost in the plot.
"Waaaah! Germany!" Italy shrieked, finally alerting the German to the fact that his companion was now awake, and leapt up, latching onto his neck and shuddering. The movie had increased in action in the last few minutes, and just then one of the main female characters had been killed in a rather graphic fashion. If Germany had known Italy was awake, he would have turned the movie off. But here he was, trying to calm down a shaking, terrified Italian who was clinging to his shoulders and hiding his face in the German's neck as if those two simple actions would take away the horrible images. Loud screams echoed from the television as Germany attempted to sooth Italy.
"It's only a movie." Germany said gruffly, supporting Italy's back with one hand whilst groping for the remote with the other. Finally locating it he flicked off the television and the screams stopped. This seemed to help as the shaking became less intense.
"B-but it was a SCARY movie, Germany!" Italy cried, his fingers twisting into Germany's shirt. "What if something like that happens to me?"
"I…It won't…." Germany stuttered. Of course it wouldn't. If anyone tried to hurt Italy, Germany would do much worse things to them than what the lad had seen on the T.V. Much. Worse.
"C-cause Germany will protect me?" Italy asked with a small hiccup.
"Of course." Germany answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yaaaay!" Italy cheered, going from frightened to tickled pink in seconds. "Ti amo, Germany!"
"Y-yeah. Ich liebe dich, Italy." Germany replied, turning bright red. Italy pulled back away from Germany's neck, meeting his icy eyes. Slowly he leaned forward, giving Germany plenty of time to pull back or protest, before pressing their lips together in their first, soft, almost lazy kiss. Germany felt an overwhelming heat flow through his body at the contact and groaned softly. Italy worked his lips against Germany's leisurely. He had all the time in the world to kiss the man in his arms and he knew it. Germany clung tight to Italy, one hand still supporting his back, the other tangled up in soft auburn locks of hair, as if to prevent Italy from pulling away. As if the Italian was going anywhere.
Italy's lips worked slowly and tenderly at Germany's, urging the man to kiss deeper, to mold his mouth to the Italian's. Germany tugged at Italy's hair impatiently as Italy's tongue swept slowly against his bottom lip, caressing teasingly, but doing no more. His fingers finally found what he sought and he twisted one particularly stubborn reddish brown curl around his index finger, tugging softly. Italy mewled softly and allowed Germany to take charge.
Germany plunged his tongue into Italy's mouth, exploring every inch of it like the warm cavern belonged to him. When they broke apart, Italy's mouth was agape and he was gasping desperately for breath, his amber eyes blazing with lust. Germany lost himself in those eyes for just a moment, before remembering something.
"You left this behind a while ago." Germany whispered in Italy's ear, reaching into the drawer of the table next to the sofa. He pulled out a familiar necklace, left behind in the wake of Italy's retreat. Italy beamed at the sight of the Iron Cross, his heart fluttering at the feel of its weight returning to its rightful place around his neck. Tan, thin fingers traced the outline of the pendant, and Italy returned his gaze to Germany's, grinning lovingly up at the larger man.
"I really did miss you Germany. Every day." He said breathlessly. Germany didn't respond, but instead pressed his lips to Italy's once more, one hand shifting to cup the man's cheek and tilt his head at a better angle. The other hand slipped underneath Italy's legs, stretching them out on the couch, Italy trapped beneath his companion. Germany stroked the entire length of Italy's curl slowly as he kissed the Italian thoroughly, their tongues dancing and wrapping around each other. As they once again parted for air, Germany moved down Italy's face and down his neck, licking and sucking at first then biting down, hard. He made sure to leave noticeable purple bruises, marking Italy as his, and only his. Italy groaned, bucking his hips into Germany's and grafting his head back to allow his friend better access to his neck, silently pleading for more. Germany left more marks in a trail leading downwards to his collarbone.
Italy wrapped his arms around Germany's back, tracing his finger tips along the small of the man's back ever so softly, teasingly. Germany growled and pressed into the man beneath him, urging Italy to do more than simply tease. Italy slipped his hands beneath Germany's shirt, stroking the muscles from the small of the man's back up to his shoulder blades. Germany shuddered a bit before moving to remove Italy's shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, button by button. Italy shifted impatiently, and finally arched his back to allow the fabric to be slid off of him. Germany began to worship the newly exposed skin. He sucked one dusty nipple into his mouth, nipping harshly at it, then soothing the area with a soft lick, twisting the other nipple between his fingers. At the same time he gave another tug on Italy's curl, and Italy arched upwards again, crying out wildly.
Germany ground his hips down against Italy's in return, lowering his head slowly down the smaller nation's chest. He kissed the skin gently, nuzzling and licking as well before pressing firm nips here and there leaving more and more marks, still tugging on that curl. Italy writhed, whipping his head back and forth as pleasure overwhelmed him. Germany dipped his tongue into Italy's bellybutton, pressing more bites to the area around it before looking up to watch his companion's face as it twisted in ecstasy. He twirled the curl some more before leaning up and licking the length of it, pulling the strand of hair into his mouth and sucking it.
"L-lu-LUDWIG!" Italy cried out wantonly, bucking madly as Germany teased him. Germany himself shuddered happily at the sound of his human name falling off those delectable lips.
"Ja, Feliciano?" He let the curl return to his fingers, twisting and turning it between them. Italy moaned loudly.
"Sto-ahhh! Stop teasing…Lud…wig…." Italy panted out, his face flushed, eyes desperate with need.
"What if I don't want to?" Germany asked, reaching one hand down to cup Feliciano, the other still playing with that curl. The larger nation took a moment to wonder if he could make Feliciano cum, just by messing with that curl. He probably could. Italy bucked frantically into his hand, moaning and groaning for more, more touches, more kisses, more Ludwig.
"Please….Ludwig…it hurts…" Germany took pity on his little ally, realizing just how tight the nation's pants were getting and just how painful that would be. He released the button and Italy let out a sigh as some of the pressure was removed from his straining erection. Germany backed up, untying the Italian's shoes and tossing them carelessly aside.
Italy's pants and underwear followed soon, thrown aside and immediately forgotten as Ludwig took a moment to pause and just look at Italy. The man was truly beautiful. His ruffled hair fell perfectly over his heated eyes, entire upper body flushed brightly, that perfect mouth gaping open slightly, breath coming in harsh gasps, and his cock already driping with pre-cum. Italy wriggled against Germany, bringing the other man's attention back to the matter at hand. Germany returned one hand to that curl, twisting it between his fingers as he kissed and bit his way up the lad's thighs to his hard-as-a-rock erection.
Germany kissed the crook of Italy's hips before moving to ghost his hot breath across his weeping member. Italy mewled pathetically and thrust his hips upward.
"Ludwig…haaa…nnnnnn…pleeeease." Germany smirked at the sound of Italy begging and lowered his head to lick the bottom of his length before slowly taking him into his mouth. He bobbed his head, taking in more and more of Italy until the tip of his member touched the back of Germany's throat. Italy threw his head back and forth, crying out madly, his eyes rolling back. Germany hummed around him, sucking his hardest yet and tugging that curl one last time.
"Ahhhaaaaa! Ludwiiiig!" Italy cried as he saw white and arched upwards dramatically, cuming hard into Germany's mouth. Germany swallowed every drop, savoring the salty sweet taste that was only Feliciano. Italy fell back into the couch, gasping and looking up at Germany through half lidded eyes. Germany smiled down at his lover, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Italy wasn't sure he liked the taste of himself on the other, but kissed back hard as Germany's hand wandered back downwards, gently stroking Italy, coaxing his arousal back to life. Italy moaned, breaking the kiss and pushing Germany's shirt off his shoulders, after fumbling with the buttons for a few moments.
"No fair…I'm the only one naked…" He purred, moving his hands to Germany's pants, unbuttoning them and stroking the prize inside. Germany growled needily, flipping the lad over onto his stomach and shucking his bottom layers of clothing. Italy rested his face against the plush arm of the couch, lifting his hips for his lover.
Germany snagged the bottle of lotion he kept on his coffee table and spread it generously over three of his fingers, placing the bottle on the back of the couch for further use. He pressed soft kisses across the small of Italy's back to distract him as he slipped the first finger. To Italy it felt odd…but not bad. He gasped and pressed back against the finger. Germany thrust the finger in and out before adding the second one. Italy mewled pitifully, wincing slightly, and Germany pressed more kisses across the man's back and shoulders as he continued thrusting and scissoring. Italy cried out in pain as he added the third and final finger, clenching around the fingers as tears burst from his eyes.
"Shhhhh. Just relax Feliciano. It will hurt less if you just relax." Italy whimpered but tried to do as his lover said. Germany continued to finger him until he felt the smaller man relaxing completely beneath him.
"Put it..in…" Italy murmured, bracing himself for the pain. After slicking up with plenty of lotion, Germany lined himself up with Italy's entrance, reaching up one hand to twine his fingers with Italy's as he thrust swiftly into him.
"Ahhnnn! It hurts!" Italy cried, clenching the couch fabric with his fingers as he stretched painfully.
"Es tut mir lied." Germany breathed in Italy's ear, stilling until Italy nodded, giving him permission to move. He thrust slowly at first, carefully, afraid to break his little lover. As Italy adjusted to the feeling of being filled so completely, he began to experimentally meet Germany's thrusts. Germany noticed and began to move faster, angling himself differently with each thrust until….
"Haaaa! There, mio dio, Ludwig theeere!" Italy gasped, pressing hard back against his lover. Germany groaned at the friction.
"Feliciano..so tight…ahhhh" Germany groaned, thrusting hard against Italy's prostate. Italy cried out even louder. Germany showered licks and kisses and bites across Italy's shoulder blades. Italy arched against the touches, meeting every one of Germany's thrusts with a rock of his hips.
"Faster..Germa…haah…Faster, please." Italy begged. Germany was more than happy to comply, thrusting faster, harder, and deeper in response to Feliciano's pleas. Eventually his thrusts lost their rhythm as he neared his climax. Germany wrapped his mouth around that curl again, sucking until Italy came, screaming his name and clenching around him. Germany growled appreciatively, thrusting hard into his lover, covering the smaller body with his own and biting harshly into Italy's neck once more as he released. Their breathing was wild, and Germany thrust a few more times, riding out their orgasms. Germany shuddered with pleasure and pulled out, pulling Feliciano up to him for a cuddle as they recovered.
As Germany felt Italy sag in his arms, his breathing evening, he looked down at the smaller nation. He'd fallen asleep, curled up against Germany's strong chest. Ludwig couldn't help but smile lovingly, picking the man up as if he weighed nothing and cradling him close as he carried him up the stairs. Finding a wash cloth, he washed the other man carefully and tucked him into bed, crawling in beside him and wrapping his body around the smaller one in his arms. Italy sighed in his sleep and curled closer to Germany, snuggling into his neck. Germany felt warmth and peace take over his entire body relax with the smell and feel of his lover all around, and the calming rhythm of their two hearts beating as one. He drifted off to sleep peacefully, thoughts of the war and his terrible acts finally banished from his mind.