Germany sat on his knees, not believing what had just occurred. He was just hoping that Italy had rigged the engine to boil water for pasta, but instead the fool had launched himself in an ejector seat that had no parachute. The moronic, stupid, useless, perfect little idiot had shot off with a scream until Germany could no longer see him, not even a speck on the clear sky, and knew that anyone falling that far would undoubtably die. Sobs wracked his frame as he prayed that it was just a dream, wished that he had at least been kinder to the little guy. After all, he had known that he was useless at war when they had become friends and allies, so it wasn't as if that was some unexpected variable. He was far to effeminate to be a real soldier, but from what Germany heard he'd stood up to England once for his brother, though the Brit was what he feared most. He had come to the rescue in every way that didn't involve violence, saving Germany from falling gung ho into the dark void that threatened, and raising him from the cold perdition that was his own self-imposed lonliness. Looking back, he wished he had kept that letter Italy had written him, or the pictures he drew him on the margins of the papers he did during training. Or that he had thanked him for making dinner instead of yelling at him for making a mess, when he knew damn well that making food that good was just a messy affair, and considering the amount he made, it wasn't that big a mess.

But most of all, he wished that he had shared his feelings for the Italian. He loved him, and not in a brotherly manner. He really, truly was in love with him, even if he did make him want to claw his eyes out. He was just so sunny, and he brought light into his dark, lonely world. Now that sun was gone over something so trivial, and he couldn't take it. He no longer knew how to live without a bubbly Italian hounding his every step, and calling on him for help. Or how to sleep without that sun kissed body stretched out beside him, as much as he claimed to hate it. If he really didn't want Italy in his bed, he wouldn't have bought a double bed, or continued leaving his extra key in the same place, or even getting right back into that bed rather than use one of the four spares in his large house. Really, for someone as smart as he was, there was no reason for the Italian to always be with him, other than he wanted him there. He was just to gruff to admit it. But he swore that, should God ever give him another chance, he would tell that little guy how he felt, and he would make him understand. Grasping the cross around his neck tighly, he prayed that one day Italy would be able to hear him say that he didn't hate him, or even really think him to be annoying, simply that he was different, and Germany was infatuated with that uniqueness, the perfection that was Italy. But he thought that he'd never get to tell him any of this now, unless the dead really could hear your prayers. After about twenty minutes, he found the strength to stand and head home.

He sat at home, chugging vodka and any other hard liquor his brother brought into the house, unable to get drunk enough on beer alone. That's when the door flew open, causing even a hammered Germany to jump into defense mode since Prussia had already called and said he would be staying with Spain that night, to find what he could only believe to be an apparition.

"I-Italy?" he said, getting up and walking over to the surprised looking man, running a pale hand down his jaw and feeling soft, warm skin.

"Diotsu, is something wrong?" He asked quirking a brow.

"But, you flew into the sky. I watched it, you should be dead." The German explained, confusion mixing with blind elation on his face.

"I know, but I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was stuck in a tree with Prussia's bird chirping beside me. Half and hour later, some guy walked by and saved me." Italy chimed, and Germany decided not to ponder the physics of a baby chicken carrying a fully grown human male. Germany also decided that if it was in fact his brother who had saved Italy, he owed him very much. But there was that promise, and it's not a very good idea to lie to God.

"I need to talk to you, Italy." He said, color rising to his cheeks.

"ve~?"

"I should have told you this before, but...I love you, Italia." He said, looking at the nation in the eyes, which were wide open, showing early sign of meaning in the moment.

"R-really?" He asked, his breath coming a little bit faster.

"Ja. I do, Italia. I just needed you to know that." He said, looking at him with longing, and he was surprised when, instead of being repulsed and running away, Italy wrapped him in a hug. He smiled and returned it.

"Ti amo, Diotsu." He whispered, hot air hitting the shell of the taller nation's ear and causing him to shiver.

He pulled away, and just looked at those caramel eyes for a moment, before feeling that the mood was right, and placing a shy kiss on the smaller nations lips. Only a slight brush, but it was enough, and he was shocked why arms snaked around his broad shoulders and around his neck, and pulled him in closer. This was actually more strength than he thought the Italian had, and in this shock, his mouth opened just a little. Italy licked the small opening, not really knowing what he was doing, but deciding that it felt right.

"My tummy feels weird, Diotsu" He panted, clenching the hair at the nape of Germany's neck.

"Does this do anything to it, Italia?" He moved his mouth to suck on his neck, causing the little man to jerk forward, poking his hardened dick into the taller nation's thigh.

"Si, that feels good."They both blushed, and Germany pulled away completely, and turned, gesturing for Italy to follow him upstairs to his room. Like a lost puppy, he did so, not knowing what it was he actually needed, but somehow feeling confidant that Germany could give it to him.

With red faces, the two fell onto the large bed, a tangle of needy limbs. Germany rolled them around until he was over top, and ripped the button up shirt his lover was wearing open, sending little pieces of plastic everywhere. Brown eyes opened in shock at the display, and then lidded themselves, as agile little fingers undid the top's buttons on by one. Kissing each newly exposed section of flesh, pale and smooth, with a small amount of hair on the chest between perfectly developed pectorals

As the white cotton was flung into the dark of the bedroom, Germany sat up, examining his prize.

"You're beautiful, Italia." He said, looking at the little nation with hungry eyes.

"Thank you, Diotsu." he mewled, squirming and causing glorious friction between the two.

"How far do you want to go?" he asked, not wanting to do more than the brunette was willing to do.

"I don't know, but if I don't like it, I'll tell you to stop." he assure the blonde, who shook his head.

"You'll like it when I do it, but you may not like it afterward. Set a limit, so that doesn't happen." Germany wasn't one to just "see how it goes", he needed guidlines, and it wasn't as if he could draw those himself. Italy had the stick, and it was time to carve a stop into the sand. But italy never had worked like that.

"I trust you, Diotsu. Whatever you want to do is okay with me. I won't have regrets." He said, pulling the more manly one down for a passionate kiss. Germany took this as a full OK and pushed his tongue into that waiting mouth with rough fire. Suddenly, those rules didn't matter. Nothing did but the hot body writhing and bucking beneath him, anticipation drawing mewls from a waiting body. He reached down and grabbed Italy's pants button and fiddled with it until it came loose, pulling the jeans from him reveling yellow boxers. He pulled off his own slacks, underneath being the red underwear that was a gift from Italy for Christmas. Somehow these same articles, seen on the tan frame countless times, even snuggled up to him in that very bed, became more arousing that any lace or leather.

He pulled off their shoes, and threw everything but their underwear into the darkness as well, intent only on the touch of the other. As he slid the yellow fabric down, he did it with the care of a priest polishing a sacred object, and his mouth began to water like one of his dogs waiting for a treat.

Italy's breathing sped up when pink lips covered his throbbing member, and he involuntarily bucked his hips like a bull. Germany accommodated, taking in all of the average sized Italian, and it was a matter of minutes before he came in a series of twitches, and lay tired on the bed, completely spent. He was a virgin, after all. One who had heard one to many stories from France, the perverted bastard, but a virgin nonetheless.

He felt bad as he fell asleep realizing that Germany had never gotten any attention, but he drifted off before he could do anything about it. Damn his weak constitution.

Germany was sleeping, after completing himself in the bathroom, when he felt hands on top of him. For a moment he thought it was just a dream, and then he opened his eyes to find Italy's fingers roaming his body, and his mouth placing small kisses everywhere. He decided to just watch for a while, and was rewarded for his patience. As he became hard again, the kisses started to move lower, to his large rod, which had apparently been poking Italy in the ribs this entire time. He gripped the sheets, as that big mouth of Italy's descended upon him, and he groaned, biting back a full on shout.

"I want to hear you." Italy said, using his Latin tongue to do incomprehensible things to Germany's vital regions. He panted and shouted as he filled Italy's mouth a little while later. Italy sat up, licking a small drop from his lip. Germany stared at the roof for a moment, eyes wide and still breathing heavily. He was exhausted, and yet his limbs felt paradoxically light as he hungered for more of the sun-kisses, sweat-slicked skin beneath him. He wondered if one could become adicted, pondered his brother's teasing for a moment, and then stopped caring. He proceeded to sit up, animal instinct guiding every movement, tackling Italy from one side of the bed to the other, taking his mouth roughly, tongue shoving into the smaller man's mouth with no warning or finesse. He pulled away and stood, running buck naked into the bathroom, coming out with a bottle of lotion before the other could even ask him what he was doing. He had a seductive grin on his face, and Italy was turned on further just by that face. He never got to see anything but Germany's usual mask of indifference, and this was a definite positive turn of events. He was pulled out of these thoughts when he felt a finger covered in lotion probing his hole. He gasped as it went in, and Germany placed his mouth on his right nipple, his left hand massaging it's twin. He began squirming like a dog getting it's belly scratched, and biting his lower lip.

"If you won't talk, I'll make you." Germany said, his voice even huskier than before. He took his mouth from Italy's chest and wrapped his tongue around the curl protruding from the mass of tousled auburn hair. Italy shouted and arched his back, while a second finger was added to his ass.

He was moving franticly, close to release once again. Suddenly, Germany stopped, and sat up. Italy looked at him as if the devil himself had appeared on his forehead, and he received only a smirk in return.

"Why would you stop like that, Germany?" He asked, pouting.

"I can't have you cumming just yet, Mein Italien." He said cockily.

"You're mean, Germany." He complained, giving puppy-dog eyes. Blue eyes rolled and he gently placed a third finger, stretching him further.

"I never could say no to that face." He nearly growled his voice was made so low with lust. His curl was pulled into his mouth, and fingers were replaced with the real prize. Italy dug his manicured nails into Germany's back, and the pain only spurred him on, causing him to be a little rougher than he wanted to be, But Italy never told him to stop. They moved together in a dance old as time, until the music of lust ended in an abrupt chorus of grunts and moans.

They lay beside each other, not even bothering to clean up, and the music of love on an eternal repeat.