Of Meetings and Candies

German translation:

Scheisse – shit

Verdammt! – Damned! / Damn it!

Arsch - ass

Was ist los? – What's going on?

Nichts – Nothing

Bruder - brother

Tick nicht ab, Deutschland! – Get a grip, Germany!

Spinnst du oder was!? – Are you fucking nuts!?

All my thanks to ravengal for being my beta. Don't own Hetalia.

The fact that Italy was bored wasn't surprising at all. The Mediterranean nation seldom showed any interest in the world meetings, and this one in particular was taxing, given that the speaker was the ever boisterous, over the top United States of America.

It wasn't only Italy, Germany noted to himself as he looked around the packed room. Other nations were also in different states of drowsiness and boredom. Apart from France who entertained himself by sexually harassing anyone and everyone within the distance of his reach, and Spain who settled on only harassing Romano, who by this time looked like a ripe tomato - whether due to being embarrassed or angry, Germany wasn't sure - everyone else looked ready to fall asleep, despite America's enthusiastic and loud performance. The only people who actually paid attention - apart from himself, of course - were Britain and Japan, the two older nations diligently taking notes, their pens scraping the paper in a monotone fashion.

So, it wasn't surprising, really. Not at all. Germany already got used to the fact - sort of - that despite his best efforts to keep this lazy bunch of nations productive, no one cared. Besides, America's presentation in all honesty was a load of bull scheisse, so he couldn't blame anyone for not paying attention to the endless hero stuff, global warming and saving the world with sugar... or whatever. The only reason he forced himself to pay attention was his sense of duty. And that someone had to teach these lazy buffoons proper manners and respect.

So, no, it wasn't surprising at all. What was surprising, however, was Italy.

Normally the older nation would simply sleep during a meeting. Whether leaning on his brother's shoulder, or resting his head on his folded arms, Italy perfected the art of sleeping in any possible situation. On some occasions, he would draw on the back of his documents, making sketches of the meeting and the people gathered.

On those occasions Germany instantly knew that the other wasn't actually taking notes - despite what Italy was saying - because while drawing the brunette always had that serious look on his face. His eyes would draw closer, making him look as if frowning and his pink tongue would dart out from time to time to wet his lips. Often, he concentrated so hard that he didn't even realize that the meeting was long over and Germany never had the heart to disturb him. He wondered though, if the fact that they had a rather intimate relationship made him go too easy on Italy sometimes.

Nevertheless, Germany would, of course, reprimand him for not paying attention and doodling and would confiscate said documents, causing an annoyingly cute pout to appear on Italy's lips. He would also completely deny the existence of a special folder safely hidden in a secret compartment of his office desk, where said documents would end up for safe keeping. And that he thought that even Italy's most sloppy art works and doodles were pure perfection.

But this time was different. Because this time Italy wasn't doing any of these things. This time, he was twirling a lollipop between his lips, successfully distracting Germany from his task of taking notes.

The lollipop -yellow, almost green, and in stark contrast with Italy's ruby lips - shimmered in the afternoon sun spilling in through the windows. Zingy lime perhaps, or the refreshing flavour of lemons – Germany couldn't decide. The jewel like candy disappearing and reappearing behind moist lips drew in his attention like nothing else in the room.

And he did so well today, too. Tuning out all the distractions that usually annoyed him. Like Poland's inappropriate girly clothes, Sealand sneaking in and hiding behind a potted plant, France being… well, France. Or the fact, and that was a hard one, that the meeting was held in the conference centre's cafeteria because someone – ahem, America – screwed up the scheduling. But the pretty tablecloths and the coffee were a nice touch, Germany had to admit.

But Germany for once managed to deal with all of this. Not getting overly angry and not lashing out at the smallest discrepancies – he was no control freak, thank you very much, no matter what his brother and Italy said – but this was something highly unexpected.

He wondered, however, just where on earth Italy got the candy from, but then again... There was that thing America mentioned about sugar and saving the planet and... whatever.

Italy was bored and he had a candy. That was a fact. And Germany got distracted, that was another one.

Germany shook his head lightly and turned his gaze away from the little ball of sugar disappearing behind Italy's glistening lips again. He had to concentrate. They were in the middle of a world meeting. This was not the time and place for such distractions!

He steeled himself and looked at the paper before him. The page almost completely blank, only a couple of sentences were haphazardly written on the top of the sheet in deep blue ink, staring at him demandingly. The contrast of the mainly white paper and dark letters annoyed him, so he started taking notes again to fill up the blank space. But before he even noticed his attention was back on Italy.

Verdammt!

The blonde nation tried to ignore the smaller man sitting at the next table, almost opposite of him. Illuminated by the late afternoon sun his auburn hair seemed to glow in the golden rays, with the lollipop shining like some expensive jewellery in his hand. Germany gripped the pen harder and mentally slapped himself while scraping down some words America said: recycling, sugar, sweet… Sweet Lord!

He only caught a glimpse of it with his peripheral vision, but Italy's pink tongue darting out and circling the little globe of diabetes was unmistakable. He popped the thing back into his mouth, his lips closing securely around the stick, and twirled the lollipop, sucking on it as if it was the most amazing thing ever. And probably, in the middle of a boring as hell meeting, stuck in a stuffy room, it was the best thing ever.

The ball of sugar popped out again, pink tongue following in tow. Germany looked at it, transfixed and unable to look away. He saw Italy licking and slurping and… he saw something entirely different than a lollipop in his hand. Or his mouth.

Germany shuddered.

This was bad. He felt himself becoming unusually aroused.

He had to stop.

Germany closed his eyes, his hands curling into tight fists then uncurling again.

Relax. Breathe. Focus.

He had to concentrate on the presentation. He opened his eyes, the white page staring back at him challengingly, yet again. It was good. America continued on with his rambling, pointing out something on his dramatically over-scaled diagrams displayed on a makeshift whiteboard, most undoubtedly misrepresenting some valuable information.

Germany didn't dare to look up. Not because he was sure as hell he would get annoyed at America's blatant distortion of facts and numbers, but because he was worried of seeing… well, things. But then he heard the scraping of a chair and he automatically looked up. The moment his gaze fixated on Italy again, he knew he lost.

Scheisse!

The older nation was now leaning on the table, one hand supporting his face, and looking totally bored – his eyes half lidded and probably ready to fall asleep at any moment now, or at least Germany hoped so. He was rhythmically tapping the candy to his mouth, which made his rosy lips glisten even more. Germany could almost taste the fruity sweetness on his own. He licked his lips imagining moist and warm and soft pressing to his, tasting like sugar and Italy…

He gulped and the sound of it in the rather quiet cafeteria – aside from America's rambling, of course - made him cringe.

He looked around the room, checking if anyone noticed what was going on, but the only person who seemed to react was his brother sitting next to him.

Prussia, awesomeness personified, tall and thin with milky white skin and snowy hair, eyes shining like blood or rubies, graceful in his own way, seemed almost regal to him as he looked up questioningly. Germany often had the feeling that his brother was really out of the era, more suitable to be around kings and queens. But then again, there were moments when Prussia behaved like a spoiled little brat, causing mischief and trouble and getting into fights just for the heck of it. Especially if he was horny and wanted his or Italy's attention.

He was dangerous, no matter what, and Germany shifted uncomfortably, looking away and trying to hide the blush he was surewas adorning his cheeks right now.

Just why on earth was Prussia here anyway?

It wasn't unusual, though. Prussia's presence, that is. Sure, the guy wasn't a country anymore, but he was still part of Germany – for the better or the worst – and depending on the topic of the meeting, time, place, his level of awesomeness and boredom – it was a fairly complicated process - Prussia did attend some of the meetings. He even contributed sometimes. But more often he was just a total pain in the arsch. Especially for Austria and Hungary, who had some old grudge concerning vital regions or… Germany wasn't sure and he didn't really want to think about it anyway.

Despite that, no one seemed to really mind. Ha behaved half decent during the meetings – compared to America, France and other troublemakers – and he had the uncanny ability to disappear unnoticed if he was too bored. Allegedly, he learned this "ninja" skill from Japan, and perfected it while living at Russia's house, but Germany wondered if Prussia losing his status as a country had anything to do with it.

Not like it really mattered at this point, because right now Prussia was sitting next to him, his ruby coloured eyes boring holes into his skull.

Scheisse! He is going to find out!

Germany's cheeks felt even hotter now and he vaguely wondered if he looked any similar to Romano, who turned tomato coloured any time he got angry or embarrassed. What happened almost all the time, considering Romano's default setting was either angry or embarrassed.

The blond nation only wished Prussia wouldn't notice his predicament, but it was a hopeless situation. If only something would happen. Something unexpected or a miracle or anything just to draw his brother's attention away from him, he would be saved. But annoyingly nothing happened and Germany cursed silently, for usually there was always some drama or some shouting during world meetings but this one blasted time! Someone really had it in for him.

Prussia's stare felt hot on his skin and he really wanted to tell him to cut it out, but Germany refused to look. Soon, a piece of paper was slid in front of him, with a single sentence in his brother's lanky handwriting:

'Was ist los?'

He still refused to look but scribbled down an answer anyway.

'Nichts.'

An obvious lie and Germany knew more than well that it's not going to satisfy the ex-nation. He was only stalling for time.

Prussia huffed unsatisfied and leaned back in his chair seemingly giving up on finding out the truth. But Germany knew better. He was sure his brother was thinking and observing the surroundings trying to figure out what has disturbed his baby bruder'sinner peace. Or rather – Germany thought to himself – hijacked his attention and set it on a course spiralling down, crashing and burning up in the flames of embarrassment and arousal. And sure enough, a few moments later he heard Prussia chuckle lightly next to him.

A pale hand invaded his field of vision, which was still fixated on the paper in front of him, and he watched as the long and dexterous fingers scrawled down a single word:

'Perv'.

If possible Germany blushed even more furiously. He was no pervert!

The only real pervert in the room was France. And England when he was drunk. And of course Prussia himself. But Germany refused to voice his complaints, hoping that if he ignored his brother, the man would just simply lose interest in teasing him.

But instead – and Germany seriously didn't know when and how – with a soft swish of the tablecloth, Prussia slid unnoticed under the table, hiding himself behind the long white fabric. Maybe his ninja skills were real after all.

He didn't have time to contemplate, as strong hands slid up his legs trying to pry his knees open. Germany fought with all his might, reaching under the table to swat his brother's hands away, but the angle and the cloth entangling his hand made it quite impossible to achieve anything. Apart from alerting Japan to his strange fidgeting, that is.

The older reserved nation gave him a funny look, and Germany mouthed a silent apology toward him. It worked. Japan turned back to his papers and continued writing.

Germany had never been more relieved in his life. But his happiness was short-lived as this distraction was enough for Prussia to slide between his legs.

Hot air invaded his vital regions as the other man pressed an open mouthed kiss to his clothed erection and exhaled, sending sparks of electricity up his spine. Long fingers massaged his inner thighs circling closer and closer to their prize.

The blond nation tried to stop his brother again, but he couldn't do it without drawing everyone's attention in the room to his more than uncomfortable and totally humiliating situation. They would never let him live this down. Not the likes of France and America and he was fed up with Austria's snobby remarks as well. Besides, his reputation as a strong, civilized and dignified country was at stake here.

Maybe, if he thought about something else and willed his erection away, Prussia would just give up. Maybe that would help!

Concentrate!

America was still talking, the meeting was far from being over yet! If he could just pay attention to what was happening around him, then he could… definitely avoid looking at Italy, Italy's lollipop and Italy's pink tongue circling the lollipop in a way that would put a professional porn star in shame.

How on earth did no one notice it!?

But Germany didn't pay attention. Or rather, he paid attention to the totally wrong and inappropriate things.

And Prussia using his teeth to release his member from the confines of his clothes didn't help either.

The zip being undone seemed to be louder than America's obnoxious voice. The blonde man looked around worriedly but no one appeared to notice.

Thank God!

He felt exposed and vulnerable hidden only by the long tablecloth, as nimble fingers wrapped around his shaft and squeezed. Germany had to bite back a moan.

This wasn't good. Why was he still aroused? This situation should have been entirely off putting, yet here he was, hard as rock and totally turned on in the middle of a world meeting just because some stupid candy, a lazy brunette, a perverted ex-nation and the entire world decided to conspire against him!

But damn, if Italy lapping and slurping at that little ball of sugar wasn't the hottest thing ever! He imagined how that sinful tongue would feel on his erection when Prussia gave him a hard lick.

The reaction was instantaneous, his body shuddering and growing even harder. He had to force himself to stay still and not to throw his head back and moan loudly.

The white haired nation's tongue circled around his tip – in a similar fashion to Italy licking the candy – then the wet appendage dipped into his slit.

Fuck!

Germany griped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

Prussia continued his ministrations, licking and kissing and coating the other's member with as much saliva as it was possible just to blow on it teasingly. The strange feeling of hot and cold alternating on his burning cock made Germany slowly lose control.

And then Italy swallowed the globe whole. He gave it a good twirl before the candy left his mouth again with a slurping wet pop. And that was the moment when Prussia engulfed his whole erection, lips securely tightening close to his base.

Germany felt scorching hot, and wet, and soft and oh so delicious tightness surround him. If not for the fact that he was already sitting, his knees would have surely given out on him as the world swayed before his eyes, the only things remaining clear – ironically – being Italy and his candy.

Prussia hollowed his cheeks, creating suction that made the blonde drop his head in his hands. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to get the image of the Mediterranean nation out of his mind, but the picture was too clear, too strong and the feeling too real.

There was Italy sucking and slurping and licking, and there was Prussia doing exactly the same. His brain mixed the two together too easily. Not that the white haired man's blowjob wouldn't be enough in itself. Or Italy's provocative performance for that matter.

Tick nicht ab, Deutschland! Pull yourself together!

He seriously wanted to kick Prussia's face in right now for putting him through this. Or at least have that fucking candy out of Italy's mouth. But the image and the feeling mixing together overloaded his senses. His brain was shouting at him to stop and concentrate on something else, while his body was refusing to act accordingly.

It was humiliating, it was embarrassing - the fact that he was doing such a lewd thing in front of every nation, in the middle of a meeting, that he could be found out at any moment – and it was more thrilling than anything he could remember in decades!

His body hummed with excitement, his blood like molten lava coursed through his veins as waves of pleasure ran up his spine. He shuddered and couldn't help to peek at Italy through his fingers.

If there was one thing Germany learned during all those decades – no, not decades, it was nearly a century now – he spent with Italy by his side, it was to never underestimate the guy. Sure, the older nation was lazy in general, tardy most of the times, and his childish nature annoyed the hell out of Germany on occasions, but Italy was also the kindest person he ever met. And he was far from being stupid either. Germany learned it first-hand.

It rarely happened though, Italy seemed to hide that fact quite well – for what reason the blond man didn't know – but there were moments when the Mediterranean nation's brilliance shone through. It was impossible to deny that he was the descendant of Rome, The Rome, the empire conquering and ruling over half of the known world back in the time. A flourishing empire with riches and culture and worshipped deities of old, forgotten myths personified in one entity.

And sometimes, seldom consciously, Italy was just like that. Strong and majestic and godly. Yes, that was a good term – Germany always had a feeling that Italy could turn into any of his grandfather's long forgotten gods. If he needed to, if he wanted to.

And right now, basking in the afternoon sun shining through the windows, that's exactly how Italy seemed to him. Like a god, enveloped in golden light, his half lidded amber eyes shining from under his long, dark lashes. Olive skin glowing with life, wine-red lips glistening and tempting, pink tongue darting out and lapping at a little sweet jewel… Italy was Cupid himself. Erotic. Everything about him screamed sex. Desire and sensuality personified.

And Germany couldn't help to grow more and more aroused just by looking. Pain and pleasure throbbing in his lower regions as his body ached for release.

It was bad. It was hopeless. He was hopeless.

He closed his eyes, deciding that he didn't need the extra stimulation after all, but the picture was already burned into his retina. Probably for a life, too.

A soft groan escaped his lips as Prussia graced him with a particularly hard suck, reminding him that it wasn't Italy alone he should be concentrating on. And sure enough, the white haired man knew how to pleasure him in the most intimate of ways. Germany could practically see devilish ruby eyes smirking up at him with mirth. He could almost feel silky-soft, white hair between his fingers and milky skin on his own. A ghost of a self-satisfied smile adorning Prussia's thin lips as he kissed him hard and demanding, knowing that everything he did was driving Germany absolutely crazy.

And suddenly Germany really wanted to touch. Prussia or Italy, one of them, both of them.

But reality came crashing down as he heard his name coming from somewhere in the room in an accent he couldn't quite distinguish in his current state.

He looked up, his vision blurry and his head foggy with lust. America was standing in front of him with a worried look on his face.

"Dude, you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You were making weird noises,"the blond man explained.

Fuck. Did he really? He didn't even notice. It was seriously dangerous and all of a sudden Germany became painfully aware of all the strange and confused stares the other nations gave him.

"Um… 'm fine," Germany mumbled weakly. "Just a migraine."

"You sure, bro? 'Cos your face is all red."

Yeah, sure. Just go away!

"Maybe Germany-san has a fever," Japan added worriedly, his hand coming up to Germany's forehead to check his body temperature. "Where is Prussia-san? Did he sneak out again? We should let him know if you're feeling unwell."

Fear shot through his entire body, paralyzing him for a moment. If Japan and the rest of the nations made a fuss, he was going to be found out, and that would be just too mortifying.

He slid lower in his seat, trying to cover himself and hide Prussia with the white tablecloth as much as possible. He was embarrassed and wary, and for sure resembled a ripe tomato. But instead, the new angle enabled the awesome, crazy ex-nation to deep throat him properly.

Germany buckled, one of his hands slamming down on the top of the table while the other went to muffle his shameless moan.

FuckGodDamnitScheisse!

"Dude?"

"…I'm okay… ng… really…"

His body was burning and trembling in fear and pleasure at the same time. Prussia really had to stop it. Now!

"Are you in pain?"

If not for the fact that Germany seriously wished that everyone would just go to hell right away, he would be touched. America rarely showed concern for anyone. It just meant he had to look completely messed up. But as it was, Germany couldn't give two bloody shits about it – or whatever else England was always saying – and really just wanted everyone to disappear the fuck away! Or rather, he wanted to disappear… But as Prussia's long fingers came to play and pumped the rest of his cock he couldn't fit into his mouth, Germany wasn't entirely sure which option would be the best anymore.

He griped the edge of the table again, scrunching his eyes shut and refusing to look up.

"I…ahh…gonna be fine," he squeezed out as an answer.

"Don't know, dude. Let's just take you to the nurse."

Germany froze completely, cold sweat covering his body.

Anything but that! Not that! Not now!

He had to do something! He had to move. He had to escape, but…

"Ve, maybe we should just take a break, si? Let's have some lunch!" The melodic and familiar tone made Germany shudder but this one time he was glad for Italy's interruption. He was saved.

"I agree for once," England said as well. "We've been stuck here for hours, listening to your ridiculous presentation,"he added turning to America this time.

The younger nation huffed indignantly.

"Dude, it's not ridiculous!"

England crossed his arms.

"You're right," he said after a little while. "It's bloody outrageous. Now let's go eat!"

"Hey!"

Germany tuned out everything after that. Prussia was doing something with his tongue – the blonde man couldn't quite describe or comprehend it right now, but was sure as hell had to be illegal – which made him see stars.

He was so close!

Chairs were scraping the floor around him, people moved by and the general noise level rose as nations started to gather in smaller groups and conversations erupted as everyone was leaving.

Germany had barely noticed anything, his mind too far gone, and too fuzzed with lust and arousal and Prussia and images of Italy. He vaguely registered Japan saying something to him – probably wishing him to get better - but all he could do was to mumble something unintelligible as a reply.

So close!

He could hear Italy saying something – replying instead of him to Japan – but the words held no meaning. The only thing registering in his hazy brain was Italy's soft and melodic voice. His cock twitched.

Just a little bit…

People were leaving, the room emptying rapidly.

He was burning and trembling, fingers gripping the edge of the table impossibly hard and crumpling the white fabric. He felt scorching hot and soft and wet tightness surround him. A skilful tongue creating friction, that damn delicious friction, pushing him toward the inevitable completion.

So fucking close!

But it wasn't quite enough and Germany groaned in frustration not caring anymore if there were people around.

Suddenly, his hair was pulled and his head was yanked back rather harshly. Sweet and soft and moist lips pressed to his, a tongue invading his mouth in a demanding and dominating kiss.

He tasted honeydew. And spices. And Italy. And before he knew, he was coming, hard, moaning into Italy's mouth, and emptying himself into Prussia's willing one, as the world shattered around him.

It took some time before the world stopped spinning and his senses slowly started to come back. He found himself slumped on the desk, panting and completely spent, his body feeling like jelly. It was messy, and undignified and glorious. But as the post-orgasmic buzz cleared away, reality came crashing down like an unexpected bucket of ice on a hot summer day. Or like Italy carrying fragile items on the stairs.

Germany mentally berated himself. That thought was uncalled for. Besides, he had more pressing matters at hand right now. Like killing a certain white haired ex-nation. And a lazy brunette.

He looked around the now empty cafeteria and tiredly moved away when he felt Prussia crawling out from under the table. The man shamelessly wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smiled. One of those arrogant and cocky and satisfied smiles what made Germany want to hit him. Or at least tackle him to the bed and dominate in more ways than one.

Not appropriate right now.

But it made him angry enough to snap.

"Spinnst du oder was!?" Germany barked heatedly.

Prussia just wrapped himself possessively around Italy, completely ignoring the blonde. The older nation looked at him dejectedly.

"Ve, it's not fair. I wanted to taste Germany, too," he said with a genuine pout.

The older of the Germanic brothers grinned at him.

"Let the awesome me help you out then." He grabbed Italy's chin and pulled him closer. Their lips connected in a wet and sloppy kiss, hands roamed and fingers entangled themselves in clothes and hair and when Italy moaned softly, Germany started to feel really, really hot again.

And as the scene unfolded in front of his eyes, his two lovers becoming more and more engrossed in the act, it became all crystal clear.

"You!" He pointed an accusing finger at them. "You… You planned this!"

Prussia graced him with an open cocky grin. Italy only smiled, but was far from being apologetic and it made him look like some kind of devilish imp, rather than the god of love Germany saw him to be before.

This looked good on him, too. But Germany tried to not think about it. Of course, he knew that his innocent and naïve and angelic and cute Italy wasn't innocent and angelic at all. But that idea always made him unusually aroused. So he just ignored it, most of the time.

But now, as he looked at the two of them – his Prussia and his Italy, his two lovers for over at least three or so decades now – he had to fight back a serious wave of affection. And lust.

"Why?"

Italy's look hardened for a moment.

"Payback," came the short answer.

"What?"

"It's payback for making us do unnecessary background research on America's presentation topic," Prussia explained easily. "We just wanted to show you how much this whole thing sucks," he added with a stupid grin, clearly amused by his own pun. Italy's lips twitched in a small smile as well.

Germany felt like exploding with rage.

"What the fuck!?" he shouted, disbelieving. "I can't believe you would do such a thing! What if someone saw us!? Just because I made you lazy buffoons prepare!? I'll have you know that it is important to…" He couldn't finish as Italy's lips closed around his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. One of his hands cupped the blond man's cheek, the other combed back some stray locks from his eyes.

"Ve, you're taking this too seriously."

Italy smiled at him, warm and tender. His shining amber eyes were full of emotions Germany recognized as happiness, love and ah… It was his way of apologizing. It's probably the closest he will ever get to a proper apology, so he just had to deal with it. Besides, Italy's hand stroking his cheek lovingly and his honeydew-tasting lips pressing repeatedly to his own in soft, innocent pecks made it really difficult to concentrate.

He felt warm and fuzzy. And as Prussia came over, wrapping himself around his neck this time and playfully biting his ear, he felt his lower body stir again.

Damn these two!

"It's important to be prepared…" Germany pressed, not wanting to give up the argument just yet but his voice came out softer and calmer than he intended. "Others are taking it seriously, too."

Prussia's ministrations stopped and he perked up with a glint in his eyes that didn't bode well. Oh, it could mean something really, really good, too – Germany added in his mind – but this probably wasn't one of those situations.

"So you think others take it seriously?" he asked. "Others, like who exactly?"

Germany looked at him confused.

"England and Japan," he said.

Those two for sure. Both older nations were known to be respectful countries that took matters like this seriously.

"Oh, really?"

The tone of the question made him lose his confidence. No, it definitely didn't bode well, but Germany couldn't quite explain what made him so worried. They were talking about England and Japan, after all. There was no reason to worry!

But as his brother's warm body detached himself from his and the man started going through the documents left on the tables around, Germany panicked.

"You can't just…"

It was too late. Prussia waved some papers triumphantly up in the air.

"Aha! Here's the evidence!"

He handed the papers to Germany who took them in his hands cautiously. There's no way that those two were slacking off. France or Spain, sure. But those two? No way Prussia was handing him incriminating evidence that… Scheisse!

His hand trembled as he brought the papers closer to his face to see better. He had to blink a couple of times to make sure that he wasn't imagining what he saw.

But unfortunately, the letters remained the same. In England's composed, clean and unmistakable handwriting, instead of notes there was a… Uhm, Germany wasn't exactly sure what. It seemed like an erotic fiction story. A really erotic fiction story and the two main characters' resemblance to America and England himself was more than disturbing.

Germany placed the papers down, his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. Not like he had the right to be embarrassed. Not after today.

But it wasn't over yet as another sheet was placed in front of him. He recognized Japan's unique manga drawing style immediately.

Damn it! Was there no one who actually paid attention during these meetings, aside from himself?

"Fine. You proved your point" he said dejectedly. "So what?"

Prussia gave him a cocky grin.

"You should relax some more," Italy suggested while wrapping his arms around Germany's neck.

"Someone needs to take this seriously!" He gave Italy a stern look, trying to pry his hands away in indignation, but the Mediterranean nation remained unfazed. Germany stood up, shaking the clingy man off of him and readjusting his clothes. Italy pouted.

"But you're taking it too seriously, West," the white haired man butted in, clearly unsatisfied with the treatment his lover received. "You behave like you have a stick up your ass." Prussia paused for a moment, seemingly thinking, while Germany gave him a reproachful look. Then the man grinned and the previous unsettling feeling disturbing the blonde came back full force.

Prussia walked closer, his predatory movements reminding Germany of a wild animal - a white tiger - and he draped himself securely around his body. His chest pressed hotly to Germany's back.

"Although, I wouldn't mind sticking something up your ass right now." The sultry voice felt scorching on the back of his neck as Prussia bit him lightly and rubbed his hard erection against Germany's firm butt.

Germany spluttered, his face red and hot in embarrassment.

"Cut it out!"

He tried to shove his brother away, but the arms circling his body were surprisingly strong. And then suddenly another, much smaller body pressed to his, from the front this time, and he heard Italy's heady voice breathe into his neck, too.

"Ve, but I really, really want you, too, Germany."

The older nation looked up at him pleadingly. His half lidded eyes resembling molten gold and heavy with lust.

Germany felt his resolve crumble as his body grew hard again.

Damn it!

Was there no escape when these two decided to act? Was he really that weak?

Germany wanted to say no. His sense of duty preventing him from ditching the meeting in favour of hot and steamy and awesome sex, which somewhere deep is his mind made him question his sanity. But then he looked at the papers lying abandoned on the top of the desk and the words left his mouth faster than he could even comprehend them.

"Just don't get used to it."

Italy's smile could have lit up the darkest of nights as he stood on his tiptoes to give Germany a proper kiss. Lips pressing wetly to his, still tasting like that goddamned candy and hands sneaking around his torso to press himself more firmly to the bigger body. He looked like Cupid again.

Prussia also shifted to gain better access to both of them, stepping a bit to the side and drawing the smaller man closer to himself and exchanging a sloppy kiss, too. Then he looked at Germany, a satisfied grin splitting his face as he pressed their lips together. Compared to Italy's usually soft kisses, this was strong and demanding. The ex-nation's tongue invading his mouth in a battle for dominance, what Germany was promptly losing. It was thrilling and challenging and Germany loved every moment of it.

As they parted and his two lovers started pulling him hurriedly towards the door to get back to their hotel room as soon as possible, Germany wondered if it was wise to let them get away with this stunt so easily. Having two lovers wasn't always easy – especially such high maintenance ones like Italy and Prussia – but the blonde man never even thought about having it any other way, it's just that there were rules they had to keep.

Like having a pasta dish and a potato dish at least once a week. Or keeping Italian wine and German beer available at all times. Or having a quiet time around three o'clock every day for Italy to take his siesta, Germany to do his paperwork and Prussia to do whatever he was doing. And a lot of other things like that.

But then again… Germany was proven by his lovers multiple times already that the rules are there to break them. Sure it was annoying at times, but in exchange his life was never boring.

And this world meeting sucked anyway, so there was no harm really.

He picked up the pace to follow his two enthusiastic and giddy lovebirds and grabbed their hands, weaving their fingers together.

They both looked back at him, smiles warm and cheerful.

Yeah… They can get away with it this time.

Germany was happy.

~Fin~