Early morning came quietly and without fanfare, and Italy found himself shifting awake before Germany, all languid stretching and jaw-cracking yawns.

Germany, surprisingly, or perhaps not, was still asleep, curled tightly around Italy, and as Italy watched his blond hair turn to gold in the sunlight, he contemplated waking his lover. He knew Germany never liked to sleep in if he could help it, and so he touched a hand to Germany's bare shoulder and gently roused him awake.

"Hey, Germany, dear," he said in a whisper, brushing the fringe of bangs back against Germany's forehead. "Wake up, ve."

With the patient predictability Italy had come used to, Germany batted his hand away and cracked an eye, regarding Italy with vague affection.

"Good morning," Italy said, leaning in to kiss Germany for morning salutations. Germany kissed back with the half-hearted reluctance of one who has resigned oneself to fate. "How are you feeling?"

Germany shifted carefully and winced. "I'm so sore. It, um. Um. It really hurts, actually," he said, his face flushing.

Italy made a sympathetic noise and cupped Germany's face with both hands, pressing feather soft kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

"I'm so sorry you're sore," he said, stroking his thumbs across defined cheekbones. "Ve! How about I run you a hot bath? I'll take care of you, and massage you, and kiss you all over, because it's my fault you're hurting. Is it really terrible?"

"No, it's not terrible. And we showered last night anyway. I'm just more sore than usual, and you know I'm usually sore after…afterward anyway."

"That's good. I'm still going to run a bath, though. It'll definitely help, ve."

And with that Italy disentangled himself from the twisted linens, naked and unashamed, and padded across the hardwood floor to the bathroom.

There was the sound of running water, and Germany relaxed again against the pillows. There was always the tacit agreement that after rough or painful sex, the dominant partner that night had to take care of both cleanup and the inevitable soreness come morning. Germany always felt a deep embarrassment when Italy took to caring for him, but deeply grateful nonetheless. He snaked a hand down, under the covers and his boxers, between his legs and brushed his fingers against his sore anus.

He hissed. Though the over-large penetration had not been unbearably painful at the time, the tender ache hours later was far worse. Germany attributed it to getting caught up in the moment, and resolved to never do that again.

He always resolved to never do that again.

From the bathroom, the sound of running water stopped and was replaced by Italy's soft footfalls as he approached the bed. He held out one hand and Germany took it. Soft fingers rubbed against the back of his hand and Italy smiled warmly at him.

"Come on, Germany! Normally I'm the one lazing about in bed. The bath's done, so come here," Italy said with the hint of a smile still playing about his mouth.

Germany allowed Italy to lead him into the warm bathroom with little complaint, and even accepted Italy's ever-present help in stripping him of his shirt and underwear. With little preamble he stepped into the large tub and sighed happily, closing his eyes and letting the hot water rise to his neck. Italy sat down on the edge of the tub and trailed his fingers through the water, watching his lover happily.

"Think one more could fit in there, Germany?" he said, too slyly, too lustfully, and Germany cracked an eye to regard him warily.

"You really cannot wait, can you? I can't now. I'm too sore," Germany said firmly.

Italy contrived to look appalled. "I would never try to do that while I'm supposed to be taking care of you! Ve… I just thought it might be…easier…to massage you if I'm in there with you, dear."

Germany continued to glare.

"Please?" Italy tipped the timbre of his voice into a stretch of pleading. And Germany yielded. Oh, how he yielded.

"Fine, come in," Germany said, defeated, and Italy clapped his hands together, everything in the tilt of his head and the carriage of his body suggesting the cat who got the cream. As it were.

With a gentle shifting of water, Italy was in the tub opposite him, legs tangled with his own. Italy shifted slightly, and, with a gentle pressure, urged Germany into a sitting position facing away from him and reached for the soap.

Germany sighed as too clever hands soaped up his back and massaged his shoulders. The fingers worked patiently, unknotting and de-stressing, and soon Germany found himself with his head lolling against Italy's shoulder.

"Mm, does that feel good?" Italy said, reaching around and allowing one hand to brush a dusky nipple almost innocuously.

Germany purred happily, closing his eyes once again, and allowed Italy to turn him so they were facing each other once more. His eyes flew open, however, when a hot mouth latched onto his collarbone and nibbled gently.

"I-Italy. What are you doing?" he said, looking down at a nest of brown hair.

Italy simply continued to mouth along his chest and clavicles for a few moments before looking up with lust in his eyes.

"Nibbling on your chest?"

"But I said—"

Italy shushed him with a finger to his lips. "You said I couldn't be inside you because you were too sore. And I won't! But you never said you couldn't be inside me. How about it? It'll make you feel better."

Even with all his sensibilities, Germany could never really refuse Italy, especially like this, when he was naked and tangled up with him in the warm water, pressing kisses to his chest and throat. And it had been such a long time since he had been on top.

"Fine."

Italy scoffed and swatted his arm. "Well, don't sound so grumpy about it!"

"I'm not grumpy."

"Show me."

And then Italy was in his lap and kissing him deeply. There was a brief insinuation of tongue, and then Germany kissed back hungrily, sliding his hands down Italy's slick back to cup his buttocks gently.

Italy moaned into the kiss and rubbed his swelling erection against Germany's stomach.

"There's, ah, there's lube next to the tub," he said, breathlessly. "Can we do it now? Sorry it's not that romantic, but, ah, I really want you inside me."

With slick, fumbling fingers Germany reached for the small bottle on the side of the tub and uncapped it, slicking up his fingers and trailing them down the small of Italy's back and down between his legs, stroking gently. Italy moaned into his throat and continued to thrust against his stomach, brushing against Germany's own growing arousal.

Germany turned his head away; the hunger written on Italy's face was both flattering and deeply embarrassing. But Italy was not going to have that, and he sunk his fingers into Germany's hair and, gently, turned him so they were facing each other again. He could see the flush on his lover's face was more than arousal.

"Why are you so embarrassed? You're shy; it's cute," Italy said, kindly and a little out of breath. "I like your shyness, but, ve, sometimes I wonder why this makes you so embarrassed. And then I realize, it's just a Germany thing, and that's what you're going to do, and I love you all the more for it."

And he kissed him again.

"But, ve, please put your fingers in me!"

With flushing face and trembling fingers, Germany traced Italy's anus, sliding one finger deep inside. He felt Italy rock against him, pressing down, trying to force more of that finger inside him.

"Oh, iGod/i. Oh, oh, put another one in, put it in!" he said, squirming in Germany's lap. The water rocked around them. "Oh, ha, I'm a terrible Catholic."

"Not as bad as your brother."

Italy puffed his cheeks and swatted Germany's bicep playfully. "Ah, no talking about Romano when we're making love! Now hurry up!"

Two more fingers slid into Italy, stroking his prostate with practiced ease and effectively shutting him up. Germany ground his erection against Italy while he moaned and keened in his ear.

Then, suddenly, Italy seemingly decided he was prepared enough and he slipped one hand beneath him and gripped Germany's erection tightly. Germany whimpered. It seemed like ages passed while Italy gently guided his erection inside.

"Mm, good?" Italy said, face flushing as he bounced in Germany's lap. "Your cock feels so good inside me. Fuck me harder. Harder!"

Germany, still moaning and panting helplessly, thrust upward into Italy's body, trying to form some sort of rhythm. It was all for naught, however; Italy did not last long and spilled suddenly on Germany's chest and he tensed, becoming almost unbearably tight around Germany's erection.

Germany continued thrusting, gently rocking Italy in his lap while Italy came down from his high. Feeling Germany still inside him after he finished was becoming uncomfortable as he continued to brush his prostate, so he lowered his foggy head and took one dusky nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling gently while his other hand slid down below them to fondle Germany's testicles.

That was all it took for Germany to reach orgasm, and his mind went blank as he filled his lover. After a moment and with a sigh, Italy slid off his lap, letting Germany's softening penis slip out of him.

They kissed again, breathlessly, quietly, and Italy continued to nuzzle against the side of Germany's face.

"Did that make you feel better?" he said, after a moment to catch his breath. "I mean, I massaged you, I kissed you all over, and I rode your cock, ve. What more could you want?"

Germany flushed at the crude language and buried his face in Italy's shoulder, who stroked his wet hair gently and kissed behind his ear. There was an almost unnoticeable nod, and Italy grinned.

"Now, let me wash your hair, dear, before the water gets cold, okay?"

And Germany let Italy wash his hair, and, later, towel them both off and lead him back to bed, where there was a much more suitable massage in order.

As far as he could tell, Italy planned on spending the rest of the day in bed, cuddling. And, for once, he was just fine with that.