SOY: this is another one of my smut69 prompts (a collection of prompts for which I write lemon scenes). Actually, this was one of the first ones, and has no actual lemon XD but there's lot of teasing, so I thought you would like it anyway :D (the others are in my LJ, so there again, if you want to read them, just ask ^^)
This is number 34 – Foreplay.
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Rating: M.
Warnings: UST (for you)
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. And remember that Hetalia is nothing to be offended about :D
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Courting
One–shot
A hand carefully brushed over Italy's shoulder, lingering on the spot for a mere second before leaving, and the Italian nation suddenly felt a shudder run down his spine, even though it was summer and the heat was overwhelming.
He turned around, blinking in confusion at Prussia, who was passing by, but the once–Nation stared at him, crimson eyes deep and twinkling, and suddenly Italy felt at loss of words.
Italy shifted uncomfortably, feeling his cheeks tinge red without reason.
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"Ve~" Italy huffed out, watching longingly for that elusive last pack of spaghetti standing in the top row, not too high for him to get but too far into the shelf to actually reach.
Having to buy groceries for dinner was all fine and good, but that pasta was truly making fun of him.
"My pasta~"
He reached out again, pushing against the shelves and stretching his arm… and then a strong body was pushed flush against his back, and silver hair were tickling his nose, and a hot breath tingled his ear, making him blush, and there was an arm reaching out, grabbing the pasta…
Italy felt his ears buzz…
Then the body moved away, one hand lingering on the shelf at his side until he turned around, once again meeting with the smug expression of Gilbert, holding the pasta out to him.
He would have cheered and grabbed it, but his cheeks were still flaming, and his fingers were trembling as he held out his hand to get the pack.
Prussia's smirk widened at the sight. "Well?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "Don't I get a thank you?"
Feliciano, not really understanding his own reactions, leaned forwards and pressed one quick kiss on Gilbert's cheek, feeling the softness of the skin, the nice scent surrounding Prussia, watched those crimson eyes staring at him…
He pulled away, flushing crimson. "G–grazie…" he murmured, hurrying away.
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The table was filled with people, chatting happily over the food, and Italy straightened his back, feeling a satisfied smile take control of his face; grouping the Nations together had been a good idea, and they were all bonding and having fun, and it didn't matter if he was the one having to go in and out of the kitchen to bring the food or the drinks, because he was happy nonetheless.
There was Spain, and his brother, and France and England, and America and even Canada, albeit the latter wasn't talking much… there was Germany and Prussia, Austria and Hungary, and even Switzerland and his sister.
France lifted his glass, signalling Italy the wine had finished, and he nodded, uttering a soft "ve~" before running back to the kitchen to grab another cool bottle.
He supervised his next dish, which was still in the oven, and moved towards the sink, where he was keeping the wine reserve, in a basin filled with water and ice. He leaned forwards, grabbing the neck of a bottle and taking it out… and a bigger hand wrapped around his.
Looking up, Italy found himself staring into Prussia's smirking face, and he backed away by instinct. "Gilbert~! What are you doing here?"
"I thought about helping you out, Feli" was the smug reply.
The hand over his trailed a soft, feathery touch all over Italy's own; slowly, deliberately, it brushed against Italy's lither fingers, holding onto the bottle and taking it away from the Italian's hands.
Italy suddenly felt himself flush, not understanding why he would, but doing it nonetheless. Prussia smirked again, and Italy felt himself be captivated by the smirk.
"Ah… t–thanks…" he murmured, finding it hard to speak loudly.
"I should thank you, Feliciano… the dinner was… delicious…"
And there he was, his cheeks burning red as Prussia leaned forwards, their faces closer, Italy staring right into those blazing red eyes, feeling his breathing itch, his eyes glaze over, the heat of their bodies close–
Gilbert moved away, smirk still in place, and left the kitchen.
Feliciano had to grab the counter in order not to fall, his legs suddenly weak.
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He was standing, pressed against the hard wall, and Prussia was hovering above him, silent, that smirk still in place; Prussia's hands were at each side of Italy's head, and whilst Italy didn't feel comfortable at all, Prussia looked devious and satisfied.
"Uh… G–Gilbert…?"
Prussia was leaning forwards, and the reason why they were in such position was missing from Italy's brain, too lost in the sudden rush of blood to his head.
"Hmmm? What is it, Feli?" Prussia drawled out Italy's name, making the other nation shudder and tighten his hold on the wall at his back.
And then he was inching closer, and Italy felt the sudden need to just lean forwards, because Prussia's lips were hovering above his own, their breaths mingling, and his whole body was tingling and blood was rushing somewhere it shouldn't and…
"Ah…"
Prussia shifted slightly, moving his head up, and softly breathed on Italy's hair curl, humming in satisfaction when a shiver visibly ran through the Italian's body, and the wide brown eyes acquired a glazed quality.
"Is there… something wrong… Feliciano?" he breathed out again, if possible moving even closer, brushing his lips against the curl.
Italy let out a sound that was a mix between a whine and a gasp, flush against the wall and forcing the blush away from his cheeks.
"G–Gilbert…"
Prussia's eyes narrowed in lust, growling at the sound of his name uttered so breathlessly from Italy's lips, and his tongue darted out, giving a light lick to the curl, still keeping his body away from the other by mere inches…
Yet, he could still hear Italy's groan, see the way his body was about to give up, how those eyes clouded in desire, slowly closing…
He retired again, and next thing Italy knew, he was on the floor, trembling and aroused, and Prussia was nowhere in sight.
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"Hello there, Feli~"
Feliciano gasped loudly and dropped his fork, flushing hard and looking up at Prussia with wide eyes, squirming in his seat. Prussia smirked and sat down in front of him, apparently at ease, ignoring the fact that they were in a restaurant, and that around them, all the other nations were chatting happily.
At Prussia's right, Romano let out a growl and resumed his talk with Spain.
"Uh… Gilbert…" Italy grabbed his fork again and slammed it in his pasta, trying to be inconspicuous.
Prussia's presence now, whenever he happened to see him, brought Italy in a state of complete disarray… also causing unwanted (definitely unwanted!) reactions in his body. Italy stilled his trembling hand and took a bite.
"Say, your pasta looks delicious and I'm starving… and here they don't seem like they care about my single order. So… won't you give me a bite of that?"
Gilbert's smirk had turned almost apologetic.
Italy knew that he shouldn't give in to Prussia's demand… he knew something was up, and yet, he couldn't say no anyway, because really, Prussia did look hungry and his pasta did look amazing…
Slowly, eyes darting around and wondering if anyone found it strange (even though Italy did the same with Germany a lot), Italy rolled some of his spaghetti on the fork and offered them to Prussia.
And quickly realised he was right –he shouldn't have agreed.
Prussia's hand covered his own to steady the fork, then his lips parted, a tongue worming out, reminding Italy of what it had done to his curl… licking at the spaghetti, sucking them out from the fork…
Italy swallowed hard, unable to look away but wondering why no one else was reacting, why no one else was protesting against the show, why did it feel so hot in there–
And was startled when something trailed up his leg.
Eyes wide, cheeks flushing even harder, Italy retreated his hand from Prussia in a flash, covering his face with a handkerchief with the pretence of cleaning his mouth, but really just to hide the blush and his gasp.
Staring around again, no one was looking at him, apparently everyone too busy talking or staring at America's fight with England.
His eyes returned to Prussia, still wide, and that something trailing up his leg shifted inwardly… moving towards–
"Hnn"
Italy suddenly felt his lungs constrict, and realised that Prussia's foot –Prussia's naked foot– was pressing against his southern problem… pressing and… brushing and… massaging it…
Italy bit down on the handkerchief, hands trembling and clutching at it, legs unconsciously parting to allow more…
Brown eyes fought the urge to close, and Italy found himself not just pushing himself forwards instead of backing away, but also enjoying the pleasure rocking through his body. He was a fraction away from moaning loudly, he knew it, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't make Prussia stop, not when it felt so good…
Not when his entire body tingled, his mind reeling with thoughts of exactly what Prussia could do, clear promises from those crimson eyes, drawing him in…
"You look flustered, Feli…" Prussia, apparently getting a kick from having so many people around him as he molested Italy, leaned forwards, his voice a hiss.
Italy's mind was drowning, that foot moving harder now, stronger, effectively dry humping him and he was so close, so close–
Then, the foot shifted away, and Italy slumped forwards all of sudden, eyes wide staring at his empty plate of pasta, trembling at the unsatisfied need still burning through his body.
Oh, no. It was too much.
He tried to recover, stilling himself so not to start dry humping the table, but he couldn't stop the fine shivers racking through his body, how it felt overly sensitive, how every breath made his erection rub against his pants, torturing him…
He looked up, and Prussia was gone again.
Suddenly, Italy stood up as well, barely remembering to use his handkerchief to cover his private areas enough to hide his problem. Romano and some others turned towards him, but before they could notice his blush, he waved and turned around, yelling "restroom~!"
And running from the hall.
He turned the corner, in dire need to get to the restroom, and instead found himself face to face with a very smug Prussia, who was apparently waiting for him in the narrow corridor leading to the toilet.
"Hey, Feli… going somewhere?"
Italy froze for a total of three milliseconds, then he simply jumped on Prussia.
Even Italy had his limits, it seemed.
Their lips collided, Italy gasping when he was rolled over and pressed against the cold wall, this time with Prussia's body flush against his own, one hand moving down to stroke him through the clothes; Prussia's tongue sneaked inside Italy's open mouth, his free hand holding him against the wall, and Italy moaned into the kiss, completely overwhelmed.
It didn't matter they were a corner away from any waiter moving from the hall to the kitchen, it didn't matter someone could need the bathroom and come down the hall into the corridor… nothing mattered except the heat and Prussia's body against his.
"Hn… Gil–Gilbert…"
And they were shifting, Italy grabbing onto Prussia's body, unable to stop the waves of heat and pleasure, biting on the other's shirt to prevent himself from groaning, and Prussia was thrusting their vital regions together, and he was close ohsoclose–
Until Prussia stopped again, locking his lips with those of Italy for a moment, not letting him go. "I'm a lucky hunter…" he breathed, in a low, raspy voice that sent shudders down Italy's body. "I see my foreplay landed me a wild Italian…"
Italy groaned, once again unsatisfied, body aflame, writhing in need, wanting Prussia to continue… "T–this is not… foreplay… t–this is teasing…"
"Not if I get what I want" Prussia smirked down, far too sexy to be legal. "Right here… right now…"
Italy swore his cheeks couldn't turn any redder, and yet they did. "B–but the others…"
"The others won't be coming around… and I don't really care either way~" Prussia pushed down again with his hips, their clothed erections meeting again.
And by this point, neither did Italy.
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SOY: how much do you hate me? Just asking :D please drop a review?