This would be more bearable if Germany didn't look so completely calm about the whole thing.
Oh, he'd squirmed and hemmed and hawed through the conversation about trying this idea out, and had appeared very badly flustered before the meeting started, but now Germany is sitting next to Ghana, watching Norway's presentation with all signs of being completely engrossed in whatever Norway's talking about which Veneziano can't concentrate on because oh Christ almighty Germany just changed the setting from the low buzz it'd been on to something that makes sparks show up at the corners of Veneziano's vision and—
"Are you alright?" Jamaica turns to him, and it takes a moment for it to register.
"Oh, I'm— I'm fine," Veneziano replies, as airily as possible, and he scoots a little closer to the table just in case and breathes through his nose, stifling a squeak when it picks up even more.
They set up rules— Veneziano is not allowed to touch himself, although in a room this full somebody would be bound to notice and there would be Questions and it'd be really awkward so he won't anyway but God does he want to because his pants are really uncomfortable right now and the vibration's been slowly intensifying and receding all meeting and is Germany smiling?
He is. Small and placid and entirely inoffensive, still watching Norway to all outward appearances.
That stinker.
The vibration recedes again to something a little more manageable, and Veneziano tries to ignore Israel's faintly suspicious glance at him and figure out what Norway's even talking about.
The meeting is adjourned eventually, nowhere near soon enough, and Veneziano's been shifting in his seat and trying not to make noise and it's really hard to concentrate when Germany shifts the settings on the vibrator almost randomly but not quite and argh it's definitely getting higher and finally, finally Belgium declares the meeting over.
Nobody files out of the room as fast as Veneziano would like, and he pretends to shuffle his papers with shaking hands, chewing on his lip, and finally, finally China picks up his pace and Austria locates the door and closes it behind him and they're alone.
Germany still looks completely unperturbed and Veneziano is determined to completely mess that up because oh God he's wanted to all meeting and turnabout is fair play and he stands, legs shaking, and tries to walk over to Germany's chair.
Germany half-stands up to meet him but before he can do anything Veneziano grabs him with one hand in his hair and the other around his tie and hisses "You son of a bitch" because he knows how Germany will never ever admit to liking it when Veneziano curses and he half-shoves Germany into sitting on the conference table with Veneziano straddling him and kissing him hard and messy like he's wanted to since the meeting started. He can see the small, infernal remote hidden in Germany's hand for just a second and then Germany smiles the tiniest bit into the kiss and there's the faintest of clicks and—
—holy fucking Jesus were these things even supposed to go that high, oh Christ that was not fair at all, and Veneziano can't and doesn't hide his moan, and he grinds his hips into Germany's and he needs out of these pants right now but as soon as he reaches down there's a hand smacking his away.
"Ah-ah," Germany mutters, voice low and rough. "We agreed."
Veneziano would complain but he's too busy panting and rocking his hips forward, and the vibration almost hurts there's so much of it, and then there's a blessed, blessed hand undoing his pants and slipping inside, large and warm, and it's next to no time at all before Veneziano squeaks and moans and jolts his hips forwards, slumping against Germany.
Eventually he raises his head, panting, and slurs out "If we do this again, it's going up you."