A/N: I haven't seen a lot of Turkmano, but I think it makes sense so I took a stab at it. Loosely based on the Italo-Turkish War (1911-1912) and Avril Lavigne's "Give You What You Like".

Warnings: Dub-con, alcohol use

Give You What You Like

1-Please Wrap Your Drunken Arms around Me

Please wrap your drunken arms around me,
And I'll let you call me yours tonight,
'Cause slightly broken's just what I need,
And if you give me what I want, then I'll give you what you like.

Romano gaped at his boss, completely at a loss for words. He didn't like the idea at all—this was why they kept their identities secret in the first place, so people wouldn't take advantage of them. When the man turned away, he glared at his back viciously. He imagined him dying painfully, preferably at Romano's own hands.

Their bosses were supposed to work with them and protect them as they protected the country. Instead, Giolitti was telling them to take advantage of another nation to give them a better chance in a stupid war that was being proposed. It was frustrating, and though it didn't seem to bother Veneziano, Romano hated it. As far as he was concerned, they didn't really need to take over any more territory.

And sleeping with Turkey, really? Romano had spent years terrified of him. Veneziano, on the other hand, had been able to hold his ground against the Ottoman, but Romano wasn't about to let his little brother climb into bed with the man for their boss' benefit.

"I'll do it," he snapped finally, cutting into the argument that was going on. The other men in the room, including his brother, froze and stared at him.

"Fratello?" Veneziano asked softly, his voice quivering slightly with uncertainty, "You don't…you don't even like him."

Romano ignore him, fixing his stubborn, unyielding gaze on their boss with a glare that told him he should watch his step. "I don't want Veneziano getting involved. I'll do it."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and stormed from the room. They could give him instructions later. Right now, he needed to scream into his pillow or something—anything to forget what he'd agreed to.

"Are you really going to go through with this?" Greece asked, turning to see Romano's face better. The usual lazy quality was more or less absent from his voice, replaced by concern for his long-time friend. Romano rolled his eyes, but it relaxed him a bit to know that someone outside the mess cared about what could happen to him.

It crossed his mind that Greece might only be concerned because Turkey was involved, but he tried not to let that part bother him. They were all Mediterranean nations, so their interaction more or less depended on what the others did. He dismissed the thought and sat up straighter as the nation he had come here to meet finally entered and make his way to the bar.

"Don't do it," Greece cautioned again, sitting back a little as if he already knew Romano wouldn't listen to him. The shorter brunette simply rolled his eyes, smoothing the light green button-down he wore. He didn't really know what Turkey was into, but hopefully he wouldn't be too picky about where his pleasure came from.

"I just need to get him to sign a few papers," he mumbled back, watching the masked man approach. Greece frowned and stood, running a hand through his longer hair.

"I'll leave you to it then," he sighed, patting Romano's shoulder before he walked away.

"Wait, what!?" Romano yelped, panicking; without Greece, he had no support. The other nation didn't stop though, and Romano quickly lost track of him in the crowd.

Romano's first instinct was to order another drink, which he didn't hesitate to do. He wasn't sure if Turkey noticed him at first, since he was careful to keep his face hidden behind the glass of his second glass of wine. It wasn't hiding much, being glass and all, but it was worth a shot. His hands were shaking, and if he was ever going to get the Turk back to a bedroom, he'd need a lot of booze in his system to do it.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do it that way either. He needed to take advantage of the other man letting his guard down in the afterglow and signing those stupid papers that his bosses had shoved onto him. It had never really sat well with him to take land from other countries—it wasn't like he was England, after all. No one was going to listen to him, of course, not when his bosses could prove their power by expanding his territory.

Lost in his own thoughts, he'd forgotten to keep track of where Turkey was.

"Hey, İtalya," the Turk spoke suddenly from beside him, making Romano jump, "If you keep drinking that quickly, you're going to pass out. Why would you come to a bar and drink wine, anyway?" He lifted his own glass of rakı, grinning at Romano.

"I'm not…" Romano began falteringly, staring wide-eyed at the other man. Not exactly seductive…

"Not Italy?" Turkey finished, an amused little smirk on his face, "But you are, aren't you?"

Romano nodded reluctantly, his cheeks burning and his gaze falling back down to the counter. He wasn't used to people recognizing him and addressing him as Italy. Turkey laughed, scooting into the seat Greece had abandoned. Romano wanted to stiffen up as the taller man slung an arm around him, but that wouldn't help his cause at all. Instead, he shifted a little so his body faced Turkey better.

"You can stick to Romano," he assured him, a nervous little smile gracing his lips. Turkey caught sight of it and grinned widely, shifting towards Romano as well. The Italian would take that as a positive, even if his hands were shaking and he felt like he was about to screw things up at any moment.

"Here, give me that," the Turk snorted suddenly, reaching over and taking the wine glass from Romano's hand. A protest rose quickly to the Italian's lips, but before he could get it out, something cold was pressed against it. It was Turkey's rakı, and the taller man was grinning.

"Give it a shot," he urged, dark eyes sparkling with…something. Romano couldn't tell if it was amusement or excitement, though his first instinct was to always assume someone was laughing at him. Feeling a flicker of annoyance, he took the rakı and downed it.

Turkey looked pleased by that, quickly gesturing for another couple rounds to be served to them. Romano's cheeks flushed, but he suspected that he might actually have a good time tonight—at least until he was expected to fuck the guy.

Romano tried to keep his drinking in check, and luckily, Turkey seemed to notice. He played with his empty glass for a moment, studying the smaller Italian who still hadn't moved out of his grip. Romano flushed lightly, leaning into his touch. He knew how to play this game.

"So, did you have any plans for tonight…?" he asked softly, glancing up at the Turk through his lashes. Turkey caught his drift, as expected, and his large, warm hand slid down to Romano's hip. Romano found the warmth strangely comforting, and somehow, it wasn't as hard as he'd expected to lean against the taller man's chest.

"Nothing that can't be forgotten," the Turk replied with a grin, letting his eyes wander the Italian's body.

Romano flushed again lightly, but coyly pulled back a little. He ran a hand through his hair, grinning at the Turk a bit playfully. "Good," he replied, his voice smooth and a little deeper than usual, "Shall we go back to my room after this, tigre…?"

Turkey grinned and nodded eagerly, his fingertips sliding down to the curve of Romano's backside. The Italian's heart pounded and his stomach flipped; he could barely believe what he was getting himself into. Maybe he could just blow the Turk, get him to sign the papers while he was dazed, and then throw him out? But no, that might ruin relations between them—not that this little charade wouldn't.

As if sensing his hesitation, Turkey ordered another round. Romano watched him gulp it down, his eyes widening slightly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to the man, just watching him…exist. The dark light of the bar made his rich tan look deeper than usual, and his hair looked almost black. The light glanced off the bridge of his nose and his Adam's apple as it bobbed. His tongue swept out to catch the last of the rakı on his full lips, the light sparkling off of them. Romano's breath caught—suddenly, the prospect of sleeping with this man seemed more appealing.

"You're staring," Turkey commented, a small smirk on his lips. Romano blushed and gave his head a slight shake, turning and downing his own glass. Turkey chuckled, and Romano could feel his blush spreading down his neck and over his ears.

"Are you finished?"

Romano jumped as Turkey's breath brushed the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He nodded, not trusting his voice. Turkey paid their bill, surprising Romano, but he still didn't trust himself to speak.

Turkey's hand slipped into his, pulling him from the bar stool. Romano's gaze fell to their links hands, marveling at how his own slim, delicate hand was dwarfed by Turkey's. He was terrified, exhilarated, uncertain…and regretting every moment leading up to his agreement to get the Turk into bed for political gain.

He led the way up to his hotel room, fumbling slightly with nerves as Turkey's fingers traced his hips. He wondered if he would cry from the stress and guilt—that would be embarrassing.

Finally Romano pushed the door open, Turkey following him so closely that they both nearly stumbled. Romano's heart pounded in his throat, and his hands shook crazily. Turkey caught them, leaning in until his lips nearly brushed Romano's. Romano steeled himself for their first kiss, his feelings conflicted.

"What's wrong?" he asked, smirking slightly, "You're acting like a virginal brat. Have you done this before?"

Romano snorted, a flash of his usual fire returning. "Of course I have," he practically growled, reaching up to link his hands behind the Turk's muscular neck, "I've been told I'm pretty good at it, actually."

Somehow, he managed to smirk, slipping two of his fingers into Turkey's belt and pulling him to the bed. He gathered his courage, pushing the taller man back to sit on the bed and settling between his legs. The Turk let out a surprised, pleased sound, a grin spreading over his lips as he ran his fingers through Romano's hair. He could see Turkey getting hard inches from his nose, and suddenly, he hated himself more than ever. He wasn't the type to screw other nations for political gain, and now he was on his knees in front of someone who had scared him for so long. Hell, Turkey still scared him. If he took the time to read those papers…

"Never thought I'd see this…" Turkey breathed, and a light flush rose in Romano's cheeks. It sounded like Turkey had been looking forward to seeing him on his knees, and if that was true...He didn't know how to deal with that.

His grip tightened slightly as Turkey's fingers ran through his hair. The Turk's thumb brushed his curl, making him gasp and shudder. He was so wound up that any touch felt magnified and sent shivers down his spine. The Turk's deep chuckle had almost the same effect.

"Are you going to suck me off, then?" he asked teasingly, his free hand resting on his zipper. Blushing furiously, Romano nodded. His slimmer hands slipped under the Turk's, displacing them as the undid his belt and unzipped him. Working together, they shimmied the other's pants off, leaving him with tented boxers. Romano's shaking fingers trailed over the bulge, impressed by the size. Suddenly, his mouth seemed small.

The Italian started to lean in, but his lips had just brushed the Turk's boxers when the man stopped him.

"Wait," he breathed, his voice a little softer than before, "I want to kiss you first…"

Romano's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly controlled his expression. Turkey pulled him up with little help, pulling him onto his lap and taking his chin in a firm but gentle grip.

Slowly, they leaned in until their lips met, then pressed more firmly against each other. Romano slipped an arm around his neck, the other pressed against his chest. He could feel the other man's heart beating quickly against his palm, and it was almost reassuring to know the other nation was nervous too.

Turkey's hands were hot and heavy as one settled on Romano's waist and the other on his lower back, holding him close. Romano wondered if the rest of him was the same for a moment, but then Turkey's tongue was sweeping across his lips and distracting him. His lips parted in an involuntary gasp, which the Turk took advantage of. He was quickly learning that Turkey definitely wasn't passive; his tongue poked and prodded the inside of Romano's mouth as if trying to taste the alcohol he'd given the Italian earlier. Romano shifted and arched against him, his body reacting to the Turk against his will.

Finally needing to breathe, Romano broke the kiss, panting for breath. His hands settled on Turkey's chest, pushing back so there was space between them again. His cheeks were flushed from the heat and arousal already, but when he looked up and saw the lust on Turkey's face, traces of embarrassment joined the mix. He could feel a defined erection pressing against his leg, reminding him again of what they were here to do.

But fuck, after being kissed like that, he wasn't exactly against it anymore.

Smirking slightly at the other Mediterranean, Romano slipped from his grip and settled between his legs again. For a moment, Turkey looked like he didn't know what to do with his suddenly empty hands, but then he leaned back on one and rested the other on his thigh.

Romano focused on the man in front of him, trying to ignore the heated gaze watching his every move. He stroked the larger man through his boxers for a moment, licking his lips nervously in preparation. His actions were earning tiny, appreciative sounds from the Turk, but not much more. If he was going to get his way after this, he'd have to get things going for real.

Gazing up at Turkey through his lashes, he hooked his index fingers over his waistband and pulled down. Turkey squirmed to accommodate him, an almost feral grin on his lips. His erection sprang free, brushing Romano's jaw and sending shivers down his spine. As expected, the empire was impressive.

Romano turned his head, brushing his lips lightly and teasingly over the heated flesh. Turkey's breath caught, and Romano found the muted sound strangely satisfying. There was no way he was going to be able to fit the entire length in his mouth, but he could still make the Turk feel good.

With that thought in mind, the kissed along the veined underside, taking the head into his mouth when he reached the tip. Turkey groaned as he sucked, his hand jumping from his thigh to Romano's hair and gripping tightly. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was more than enough to send shivers down the Italian's spine. He didn't think he would have to take care of a problem of his own after this, but at this rate, he might have to.

"Daha…" Turkey breathed softly, his eyes slipping shut and his head falling back.

Romano had no idea what that meant, but found himself slightly irritated that the man didn't sound more worked up. He shifted on his knees, sitting up a bit more and wrapping a hand around the base. Turkey's girth made his hands look small, but now Romano was determined to get him moaning. He bobbed his head, taking in a little more at a time as he adjusted. He fumbled for lube with his free hand and finally managed to snatch up a bottle. He poured it into his other hand, which allowed him to stroke Turkey faster and rougher. If his moans were anything to go by, he appreciated it.

The Turk's hand had tightened slowly as Romano worked, pushing him down until it was a struggle to breathe. Tears pricked Romano's eyes, but suddenly the grip released. He pulled back with a gasp, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Turk—" he began, cut off when the taller man seized him and shoved him back onto the bed. He leaned over the Italian, his well-muscled chest pushing the younger into the bed as he reached over and searched for something, swearing. Romano's mind was still trying to catch up to what was going on. Everything was heat and hair and that rough, warmth voice in his ear, telling him to spread his legs.

Wait.

"Wh-wha-?" he gasped out, but the Turk had already pushed his legs apart and settled himself between them. Predictably, Romano panicked.

"Wait!" he gasped, sitting up and shoving at Turkey's hands, "I'm not—You can't—Fuck, you—"

Turkey grabbed both of Romano's slim wrists in one large hand, holding them out of his way. Romano expected him to push for what he wanted, but when he looked up, the larger man's expression was serious.

"You lied, didn't you?" he asked seriously, frowning, "You've never done this before. At least, you've never bottomed."

Romano flushed, but didn't reply. His attempts to get out of Turkey grip weakened to an occasional tug, his gaze falling instead to the other's still-eager, spit-and-lube-slicked erection.

Turkey's hand fell to Romano's thigh, making the Italian jump. The larger man's thumb rubbed gentle circles into his skin; somehow, it was surprisingly soothing. His attempts to escape slowly dwindled to nothingness.

"I won't hurt you," Turkey promised, his hand already sliding up Romano's thigh now that he'd calmed him, "I'm not the monster you think I am."

"Ah, wai—nngh…" Romano's protests trailed away as the Turk's rough thumb suddenly brushed his entrance, sending sparks up his spine. Turkey leaned forward, his lips finding the sensitive skin of Romano's neck to nip and suck at it while his finger continued to trace the ring of muscle. Romano could feel his smirk against his skin—damn, of course the Turk knew he was winning.

There wasn't much he could do about it now, though—or was willing to do, really—so he let himself fall back against the thick pillows, pulling Turkey with him. He heard the cap of the lube Turkey had finally found pop open, but he was beyond complaining. The cotton of the pillowcases was cool and soft against his flushed skin, and Turkey's warmth pressed against him reassuringly…Why he wanted this so badly he didn't know, but his body was trembling with anticipation rather than fear now.

He let out a soft gasp as Turkey's finger breached the muscle, making him squirm and whine softly. It didn't hurt like he'd feared, but it was uncomfortable and sent a flicker of doubt through him. Then the other's teeth were digging into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and he arched and cried out. Any discomfort was immediately forgotten in the pain from the bite, and when it had settled to a dull throb being soothed by Turkey's hot tongue, he realized the stretch was more uncomfortable than before, even bordering on pain.

"B-bastard…" he gasped out weakly.

"Unbutton your shirt," Turkey responded, grinning when Romano's hazy, confused gaze settled on him.

"The hell…?"

"You'll see. Just open the damn thing before I rip it."

Romano scoffed, but his shaking fingers slowly began to push the buttons though the holes. Turkey's fingers kept moving, steady and occasionally changing the angle. Romano tried to ignore them, but as he loosened up, it began to feel good again.

"A-ah…"

The soft gasp escaped him as Turkey's lips and tongue found his sensitive nipple. God, if he'd known a little attention to them would have that effect…

"Ah! Shit—!"

The pleasure was quickly counteracted by pain as Turkey's third finger pressed in. He frowned at Romano's reaction, pausing with just the tips of all three fingers stretching the Italian's entrance.

Soft lips met Romano's as the Turk leaned forward again, capturing the lower lip between his and playing with it until Romano managed to focus on him.

"We're doing this," he informed the Italian seriously, dark eyes burning into the other's darkened amber, "My cock's a hell of a lot bigger than my fingers, so we've gotta get you used to this first."

Romano hesitated, but he nodded after a moment. He couldn't explain it, but he trusted Turkey enough for this. He might regret it in the morning, and even now he had his doubts, but the thought of his boss resorting to using his brother for this if he couldn't satisfy the Turk was more than enough motivation. He spread his legs a little wider, the action inviting the larger man to have his way with him.

Turkey began pushing his fingers in again, and Romano tensed immediately. Turkey stopped again, the frown returning to his face.

"Look," he breathed softly, giving Romano's knee a quick, reassuring squeeze with his free hand, "I'm going to pull my fingers out and get more lube. You just…relax. It will hurt more if you keep tensing up."

Romano nodded, wiping at the tears that had spilled over. He kept expecting Turkey to laugh at him, but so far, he'd been nothing but patient with the Italian's inexperience. The cap of the lube popped again, and Romano forced himself to relax. He focused on everything he felt—the cool sheets cocooning his flushed skin, the reassuring warmth of Turkey's knee pressed to his inner thigh, even the sudden, strange emptiness left behind when Turkey pulled his fingers free.

"How do you say 'kiss me' in Italian? Baciami?" Turkey asked suddenly, drawing Romano out of his thoughts. He hovered close, holding himself up with one hand. His dark eyes were unusually gentle and encouraging, drawing Romano in as he nodded slowly. He continued to stare until Turkey frowned again and nudged his arm.

"Baciami."

Oh, he wanted…? Romano flushed as he realized what the Turk was getting at. He reached up, wrapping his arms around the other's neck and pulling him in to kiss him deeply. This time it was Turkey's breath that caught, but Romano couldn't blame him—he felt as if all his confused emotions left him with the kiss, along with the tension in his body. Turkey pushed his fingers in again while he had the chance, earning a moan and whimper.

Turkey didn't wait for him so much this time, pushing his fingers in up to the first knuckle before the pain had a chance to register in Romano's mind. When it did, the Italian bit back a cry harshly, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, but Turkey kissed them away as he pumped his fingers gentle. Again, Romano relaxed slowly around his fingers.

He was just starting to get into it again, even rocking his hips a little, when Turkey suddenly pulled away. He whined in protest, but then realized what that meant—more was coming, which likely included more pain.

He pushed himself up on his elbows, watching as Turkey coated his length generously with the lube. At least he was being careful and aware of the pain he could cause. The Italian let himself fall back again, relaxing just a little more easily this time.

"Prego?" Turkey asked, speaking in awkward Italian again—the familiar word sounded more like 'prugo' in his mouth. Still, Romano nodded, wrapping his legs around the Turk's waist.

Immediately, he realized he was wrong. A grunt of pain escaped him as the head pushed in, but this time, Turkey didn't stop. It wasn't enough to make him scream, but when stopped with just the head in, the brunet was panting and shaking wildly. Even the kisses and sweet words of encouragement scattered across his chest didn't help, though a handful of words stuck out to him.

"The worst is over. It'll feel better now."

Romano doubted it, but given their situation, he didn't think now was the best time to protest. Slowly, he nodded, and Turkey began to press forward again.

It hurt, but it wasn't as if he had expected less. The Turk's cock seemed roughly the size of his arm, and he certainly had never been looking forward to shoving that up his ass. He covered his mouth with one hand to muffle his pained groans, his fingers pressing his lips against his teeth harshly.

Finally, Turkey was in up to the hilt. He let his weight rest on Romano, panting softly in the Italian's ear. Instinctively, Romano buried his face in his neck, letting out a choked sob. One of Turkey's arms tightened around him as if he felt bad for causing pain—a small, cynical part of Romano, the root of his fear for the other nation, wondered if it was even possible for him to feel guilt.

They stayed that way for several long moments, Romano whimpering every time Turkey shifted and the Turk answering in small, sweet praises for his determination and light, barely-there kisses. Fuck, he was so full. The stories he'd heard didn't do this kind of discomfort justice.

All the same, he relaxed slowly, and when Turkey shifted again, the stretch sent little shivers of pleasure through him. A small moan escaped him, which Turkey somehow managed to catch. He grinned down at Romano, giving a shallow little thrust. The Italian gasped and arched, his nails digging into Turkey's arms. Now that the pain had dissipated, he was beginning to see why people loved doing this kind of thing so much.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Romano simply hung on as Turkey began to thrust into him, speeding up until he was outright pounding him into the mattress. Romano moaned and cried out, pleasure overwhelming him and muting his usual protests. His blunt nails scratched over the Turk's skin, barely finding purchase.

"You like this, don't you?" Turkey growled in his ear, his low tone sending shivers down Romano's spine, "Damn, I have wanted to fuck you for so long…"

That comment barely penetrated Romano's haze of pleasure, but somehow, it stuck with him. The bed squeaked around them, rocking with the Turk's thrusts, and their mingled moans and cries filled the room, but those words replayed at the edges of Romano's consciousness. Only when heat pooled in his stomach did they fade for a moment, and then he came with a wordless cry.

Turkey continued to thrust as he rode out his orgasm, close but not quite at his breaking point. He held Romano's hip down, pounding into him erratically as the Italian went boneless with satisfaction. Suddenly, the Turk tensed, burying himself deep in the Italian as he came.

He pulled out and slumped next to Romano, stretching, and then turned to the smaller brunet with a pleased grin. Reality was starting to settle back in for the Italian, and he could barely look at the older man. Turkey didn't seem to notice, throwing an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder that bordered on harsh.

"Damn, for your first time, you're good," Turkey commented with a low rumble of a laugh. Romano was torn between letting that sound get under his skin and into his fantasies for the next month or hiding under the covers for the next…forever. He didn't answer, staring up at the ceiling as shame settled over him like a weight.

"There…there are some papers on the table," he mumbled finally, "Would you mind signing them?"

Turkey, already half asleep, didn't seem to notice the hesitation in the Italian's voice. He hummed and nodded, pulling the tense Italian against himself and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"If it's for you, sure," he agreed in a sleepy mumble, "Not now, though. Iyi geceler."

Good night. He was staying.

The guilt and shame increased dramatically.

Translations

Turkish

İtalya - Italy

rakı - alcohol of Turkish origin

Daha - more

Iyi geceler - good night

Italian

Fratello - brother

Tigre - tiger; used here as a pet name

Baciami - kiss me

Prego - ready

Other notes

Giolitti - Giovanni Giolitti was Prime Minister of Italy during the Italo-Turkish War.