CHAPTER ONE

Germany's fingers worked deftly as they tightened the cuffs around Italy's wrists, thumb smoothing down the leather strap as he tucked it into the buckle. He'd selected the most comfortable pair he owned; suitable for an introduction to bondage, yet still up to the premium quality standards he took pride in. He straightened up, sat on his mattress next to a partially dressed Italy whose wrists were now bound to a post in the headboard. His ankles were chained together with identical cuffs, but left unattached to the bed.

"Are you comfortable?" Germany asked, his large hands undoing the last few buttons of Italy's shirt and pushing the fabric aside, palms skimming over the warm skin. Ever since he first touched Italy in such an intimate place, he knew he'd never get enough of the smaller nation's ridiculously smooth skin. Italy nodded enthusiastically, his face flushed and with a determined expression fixed firmly onto it.

"Yes! I'm ready, come get me!" He laughed, hands flapping wildly as he attempted to gesture despite his restraints. Germany released a soft exhale of fondness from his nose, moving to the foot of the bed. He placed one knee on the chain that linked the cuffs on Italy's ankles, looking down at him as he unbuttoned his own shirt. The Italian's face lit up and he jerked forwards, only able to move his hands and head an inch or two before a look of dismay came to his face.

"Ehhh, no.." He pouted and his hands flopped lifelessly onto the bed. Germany rolled his eyes as he removed his shirt and began folding it.

"Have you already forgotten the purpose of those?"

He wasn't all that surprised, and he couldn't help but find Italy's disappointment at not being able to gesticulate or touch him adorable. He wanted to take advantage of that need, teach Italy the pleasures of having such things taken away to be wielded against him in a deliciously pleasurable way. Bondage was only one on a list of things Germany wished to try out with his partner— a list long enough for even him to be ashamed about it. It wasn't as if Italy was oblivious to the fact that Germany wanted to 'get kinky' with him, but tonight was the first time the Italian had struck up the courage to ask for it. Germany couldn't have been more eager to start, but he was a sensible man who knew he'd have to ease Italy into it, so he was keeping himself just as figuratively restrained as Italy physically was. The latter had been a little intimidated, but clearly wasn't letting that affect his regular cheery demeanour. His feet began to wiggle and kick, but Germany's knee easily held the chain down between them.

"Veee~ Germany, I want to touch your abs, please let me touch your abs? Or your butt, I like that too, oh please, I want to feel—" Germany sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't be getting any satisfaction out of trying to make Italy beg, since he did it so naturally without any pushing whatsoever. But that wasn't what tonight was about.

"Struggle all you want, but you're not touching anything." He dismissed firmly to another pout from the Italian. He placed his shirt neatly aside, and his hands returned to Italy's body, head lowering so that he could begin kissing along Italy's hips. He gradually moved upwards, the kisses becoming mixed with grazes of his teeth and bites that would leave small red marks in a lewd trail up Italy's torso. Italy's protests and giggles became breathier and softer the higher Germany's mouth went, eventually silenced with a squeak as the larger country's warm hand cupped the Italian's crotch over his yellow underwear.

"Oh, nothing else to say, hm?" Germany mused into Italy's neck as the latter squirmed and moaned happily.

"Your hand's so warm." Italy cooed with a breathy laugh, his hips rolling upwards into the German's touch. Germany resisted the urge to sigh. When it came to keeping an erotic, dangerous mood, Italy was rarely one to sense it, let alone maintain it. But Germany didn't really mind. Italy's cheery airheadedness was as charmingly endearing as it was frustrating. He began massaging the Italian through the boxers, his foot now planted on the chain between the other's ankles as they wriggled. He rested his elbow beside Italy's face and his hand raised to run his fingers firmly and smoothly through his lover's hair. Italy's stubborn curl was swept between Germany's fingers and it elicited a gasp and a whimper from the man beneath him. The sound of the chains clinking as Italy tugged at the cuffs again only added to the sweet little symphony Germany was beginning to orchestrate, and he ran his fingers through Italy's hair again, but slower and with more intent.

"A-AAhh!—Germany, my hair.." Italy's voice became wavery, and Germany let the words wash over him as he gave his partner's erection a stern squeeze. The action made Italy gasp again, his hips jolting and his body tensing as his words faded once more. Germany thought to himself that he must truly love Italy, because without even being touched, and before he'd even fully unclothed his partner, he was quickly gaining an erection of his own that was starting to press against his trousers. He ignored it, attention focused solely on Italy and the way his body and voice reacted to the simple touches. He used the hand on Italy's head to turn it aside, exposing his delicate neck which Germany immediately targeted with more kisses and biting. This only made Italy squirm harder, and Germany pressed his foot down harder over the ankle chain keeping Italy's feet from flying into the air. If the time came that Italy would allow him to restrain his whole body, it would be nothing but a devious delight not to have to hold him down, and only watch him struggle.

Germany kept massaging, squeezing and rubbing in a slow, purposeful manner as he left more marks on Italy's neck and gently blew across the wetness left on the skin from his mouth, making the Italian's breath hitch each time. His babbling and moans were becoming gradually breathier, some slurring together as Italy bucked his hips in vain attempts to get more friction on his erection. Germany dug his teeth into Italy's shoulder as it happened, receiving a high-pitched sound of aroused pain that made his body flood with heat.

"Ah— we're going at my pace, not yours, remember?" He muttered into Italy's ear, for once not getting a bubbly remark in return but instead a huff and whine of frustration. That was more like it. He continued, taking his time as he listened to Italy's breaths and moans. After a short while he stopped, lifting his head.

"Be still." He grunted softly. Italy seemed to take it as a challenge and wiggled and flapped his limbs, whining loudly and opening his mouth to speak. Germany firmly placed his hand over Italy's mouth and pushed his foot towards the end of the bed, dragging the ankle chain with it so that Italy's legs were stretched out straight and helpless.

"I said still, Italy." He huffed, frowning down at the golden eyes that gazed up at him pleadingly. Italy shifted restlessly before finally becoming motionless, save for his breathing. Germany removed his hand from his partner's mouth. "…Better. I think this might be the first time you've ever stopped moving for me, except for when you're sleeping." Germany teased in a low voice, slowly rubbing at Italy's erection again.

"Heey, that's not true, I swear there was that one time I-AANGhH!" Italy's sentence was interrupted by a loud, squealed moan as Germany's fingers firmly squeezed on either side of his sensitive knob. Germany slowly released it as Italy whimpered himself into relative silence again, gaze trailing down his body.

"Still, and quiet." Germany muttered, watching Italy's eyes as they flicked back and forth over his face.

When satisfied that Italy had for once calmed down, he hooked two fingers into his underwear and slowly pulled the fabric down, exposing the reddened cock beneath it and letting the elastic sit underneath his testicles. Italy's thighs twitched as the cool air brushed over the hot skin, and he wriggled his hips again, the sound of chains gently clinking as his wrists pulled on their restraint.

Germany pushed his foot down further, stretching out Italy's body even more, and slowly slid his hand over Italy's erection.

Knock knock knock

There was sudden, sharp rapping from the front door, and Germany's head shot up, staring towards the bedroom door as if he could see through it to discover who the hell was disturbing them. Italy's eyes had widened and he began wriggling again.

"Who is that? Germany, better not let them see me, I'll be super duper embarrassed, it's not like Japan and France and Austria and a bunch of the others haven't seen my thing but it's different when it's hard and-"

"Shut up, Italy!" Germany hissed, clapping his hand right back over Italy's mouth. He listened closely. "...If we wait a moment they'll go away. Just be quiet." Germany had paused sex before to attend to business, but this was a very special occasion, and he wasn't expecting anyone. He'd even cleared his schedule to ensure he could have time to have fun with his lover. After about a minute, he brushed Italy's hair back and settled next to him again.

"Alright then... now, where were we.." He slid his hand over Italy's cock again, glad to see that it hadn't softened at all despite the slight interruption. Italy immediately came back to life, moaning and slowly squirming again.

There was another noise, this time the sound of something moving or scraping against something else. Germany stiffened, ice shooting through his chest. He quickly got to his feet, one hand on Italy's chest as his ears strained for another sound. He was reaching into his lowest bedside drawer for a pistol when the sound of glass breaking tore through the house. He held up the gun and swiftly tugged Italy's boxers back over his privates, opening the bedroom door and shutting it silently behind him as he darted towards the kitchen, pistol held at the ready. He found a window in pieces on the tiles, and carefully looked outside. The lack of any attacker deepened his worry. Were they already… inside?

Shit.

Italy.

Germany inhaled sharply and raced back to the bedroom. His foot crunched over a piece of glass but his mind was in such a panic that he didn't even register the pain. The door was open, making Germany's heart leap to his throat where he almost choked on it. The bed was empty, sheets askew and haphazardly draped onto the floor. Italy wasn't to be found anywhere else in the room.

"Italy-! ITALYY!" Germany roared, barging right back out of the room and searched the rest of the house. He went outside, the only evidence of the intruders a black car speeding off into the distance with a screech. As he rushed to his own car, Germany discovered every single tire had been punctured.

"Scheiße, verdammt— SCHEIßE!" Germany kicked the front tire in wild frustration. He spun around, but no other solution offered itself to him. His mind was racing. Italy had been kidnapped before, this was nothing particularly new. But yet he still hated it, and ever since realising how much he loved the smaller country he hated it a dozen times more.

Not only that, but he had left Italy even more helpless and vulnerable than he usually was. He left him bound to a bed, almost naked, completely vulnerable. A fist of guilt gripped at his chest and twisted painfully. He knew better than this. He should have released Italy, should have taken him with him, protected him, guarded him. He'd tried to introduce his lover to something extremely intimate and intimidating, and he'd stupidly, carelessly ruined it.

Italy was never going to trust him again.