The Artist Formally Known As

Thank you for introducing me to Male!Belarus/UK, YOUR AWESOME! You don't understand how much fun i had writing this story... Posessive Male!Belarus VS. Germany... theres only one way to sort this out...

FIGHT!

Only joking ;) But seriously, it was so fun playing with how posessive Belarus was of England.

Hope you like this XD

-.-'

I'm woken up by the golden sun streaming through the open blinds and crystal-clear glass set into beige wooden frames reaching from floor to ceiling. Two windows of the same design, slightly open, allow a cool breeze throughout the room and onto the bed - making the thin sheets rustle. Wiggling in the bed I, unknowingly mind you, bury myself further into the radiator-like heat behind me. Sighing, I fling the thin off-white sheet off my body, letting then flutter onto the marble tiled floor like ribbons. I swing my legs over the edge of the springy mattress, making me wince in pain and discomfort - originating from the bottom of my back. Stretch, cracking my spine… doesn't help my pain at all.

I close my eyes - momentarily - then stand up next to the bed. Pulling at the waistband of my shorts, I walk to the glass doors and gently push them open. Stepping out onto the balcony, I lean forward on the rail and stare at the beautiful city of Rome in all it's architecturalsplendour. Blue sky stretches above the ancient city. The smell of freshly baked bread floats up from the bakery across the road.

Faintly, I hear soft tapping that could be feet - but could also be something else - getting louder. Paying no heed, I continue to stare across the skyline of eternal city. Out of nowhere I feel a pair of arm wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me back into the broad chest of my bed-mate.

"Did I give you permission to get up, маё каханне (My love)?" I feel him press him face into my neck, pressing right onto the new purple bruise at the junction between my right shoulder and neck. This action causes my knees to buckle and a small moan to escape my pursed lips.

"B-bela… get off. We need to get to the meeting" I protest weakly to his ministrations. Thankfully, he stops… but only after placing a sloppy kiss to the hickey that he gave my last night. Propping his chin onto my shoulder, our heads lean on the others, as we stare out at the city in front of us.

"Beautiful, isn't it мой Англіі (My England)?"

"ды (Yes)" Leaning back into Bela causes me to almost fall asleep again, until I remember that the meeting starts in under 30 minutes. "Belarus… Bel… Vladislav Arlovskaya we need to get ready and be at the meeting room in under half an hour" This does nothing "Vladislav, please, we need to hurry up"

"We can save time if we shower together…ды (Yes)?"

Two joint showers and a hour later and I finally stumble into the conference room, hair mussed up, clothes crooked, bite marks prominent on my neck and behind my ear and a blush covering my cheeks. Vladislav calmly follows me, a somewhat creepy smirk on his face.

"ENGLAND! Why are you so late?" The angry German strides towards me.

"I… u-um" suddenly, Belarus is holding me against him again, growling at Germany loudly. A definite "If looks could kill" moment.

"Шахта (Mine)"

"Vladislav… you can let go of me. Germany was only enquiring why we were so late" I murmer, loud enough for him to hear.

"Well… it isn't any of his business why we were late немаўля (Babe)" He doesn't relinquish his grip on me, even as I start to walk to my seat.

"Umm… Vladislav, isn't your seat over on the other side next to Russia and Ukrane?" I turn to look into his blank face, one eyebrow cocked. In response he shrugs his broad shoulders and kisses me on the temple.

"Я кахаю цябе (I love you)" At this confession... in front of everyone, I blush as red as a tomato.

"... And I you" I mumble back to him