#gerfrita

Francis nodded gravely before snorting, "Non, no worries, he told me his car was having issues and he is coming as soon as possible."

"What a relief!" Italy smiled, worry dissipating. 

 "Initially I thought it was a lie and you two were caught up having sex"

Italy was speechless for a few seconds before he laughed, amused by the Frenchman's typical audacity. 

"Oh no we aren't sleeping together." Italy shrugged, but analysed the Frenchman’s reaction. 

"Really? Why not?" Francis asked nonchalantly, obviously more interested in the answer than he was pretending to be. 

"Because he's oblivious to any advances, as you must have noticed." Italy snorted. 

"Awtch, mon cher, you hurt me." France mock gasped, pretending to have suffered a fatal wound.

Italy laughed, before turning serious, "I understand though, the things I would do to that man if he let me." 

Francis hummed in agreement, "maybe we should work together to defeat the obliviousness with our combined charm and sex appeal?" 

"Hmmm you might be onto something" Italy hummed, considering the Frenchman's proposal.

He raised an eyebrow, "my only question is... do you mind sharing?"

Francis shrugged, "while I may have feelings for the man that could not be described as mere friendship... I prefer sharing him with you than not having him at all. And you?"

Italy moved closer to the Frenchman, "likewise. I like him a lot, but I fear not being able to give him all he needs. Perhaps we could both make up for what the other lacks?" 

France considered the man in front of him, his rival on a number of levels not to be underestimated and way more intelligent and manipulative than he tries to make himself come across.

"It's been a while hasn't it?" Italy mused, thinking about the Frenchman's proposal.

"Last time was dear Antonio, I believe" France sighed happily.

"Wonderful decade that was." The Italian agreed.

"Shame your brother, put an end to it."

"He was jealous and it was time to move on to fresher meat."

"German sausage." France grinned.

"German sausage, exactly!" Italy repeated, giggling.

"Shall we shake hands on our new alliance?" The Italian put out his hand. 

France took it to pull the Italian against him. "Let's kiss on it instead!"

He cupped the Italian's face who couldn't help a surprised laugh, before moaning as the Frenchman kissed his throat.

"Francia," Italy sighed, moving a hand inside the Frenchman’s hair to finally press their lips together. 

France laughed against his lips, "eager are we?" 

He gasped as the Italian tugged at his hair in response, using that to slide his tongue inside the other's mouth. 

What was supposed to be just a simple kiss quickly got out of hand. The two southern countries pulling and grabbing at each other, loosening up buttons and discarding ties. 

France moved Italy onto the conference table before climbing on top of him. 

Their shirts discarded, leaving nothing to the imagination.

So occupied with each other they did not hear the door of the conference room open. 

A soft gasp, before the man spoke up, sense of duty stronger than his desire to keep watching. (Although, it truly was tempting.) 

"You two are of course aware you could have started the meeting without me, instead of your current activities?"

Other countries would have jumped apart or at least felt embarrassed. 

Not Italy, and certainly not France, who ignored him for 2 seconds before glancing over, looking into his eyes, grinning, and diving in again for a languorous kiss.

The Italian giggled against his lips before pushing him away, finally getting a good look at his favourite German. 

A gasp, a pause, and then…

"Germany, why are you wet?" Italy asked, very confused. 

The question was so strange that France cracked up. 

"If he had been a woman, there would have been an easy explanation." The Frenchman grinned and Germany flushed bright red, crossing his arms and glaring at his French colleague. 

"To answer your question Italy, my car broke down so I decided to come by bike as the weather was still acceptable when I left home." 

"Oh but now it's pouring outside!" Italy gasped. 

"Indeed, I noticed." Germany said, dryly, removing his suit jacket which fell to the ground with a wet squelching thud.

The German was so exhausted and tired he didn't even seem to care. 

France and Italy made eye contact with each other from over the German's shoulder, before nodding at each other in understanding. 

"Let's help you out of these wet clothes," Francis started, moving to the German's front to help unbutton his shirt.

A shirt that had become deliciously see through. 

"Yes, you'll catch a cold like this!" Italy added, standing behind the man to rub his shoulders.

Germany looked at them both, suspecting an underlying motive but not really up to fight or question their kindness. 

"Thank you, you two are so good to me." he muttered. 

Francis bit his lip, meeting the Italian's maroon eyes. The Italian shrugged, not feeling any guilt unlike him. 

"Of course, you know we care about you, Germany!" Italy said against his ear.

"Yes, we can't have you in anything less than top form." Francis breathed out as he was finished with the buttons and started slipping of his shirt.

"Well sorry, today I'm not up to those expectations," German muttered, looking at the ground and thus missing the hungry look the two others wore as their eyes raked over his now revealed body. 

"Nonsense, mon cher! You still came even though your car broke down. That's more than any of us would do!" 

Ludwig looked up, eyes widening as he realised how close the Frenchman was, 

"a-ah thank you Francis, that means a lot to me!"

He stepped back a bit, to France's disappointment, but in doing so he moved against the Italian standing behind him. 

"S-sorry, Italy." He startled, moving to step away from him as well. 

The Italian moved his arms around his middle, resting his head on his shoulder, giving him a kiss on the neck.

"Shush, I think you need to calm down, let us take care of you." He almost purred into the German's ear.

Germany swallowed, "yes, I-uh… I appreciate the help."

"But you're very welcome, mon cher!" France smiled one of those blinding smiles and Germany looked at the ground, feeling the flush rise on his cheeks.

"We need to get you out of those pants and shoes, though," he frowned, hiding how eager he was to do so. 

Italy nodded sagely behind him. 

Germany bit his lip, "i-It's true that my legs are freezing." 

"Yeah, I bet your toes are blue!" The Italian moved to his knees and started undoing the laces of his left shoe before moving to the other one. 

Finally, when that was done he helped the German step out of them, at some point Germany almost lost his balance and grabbed onto the Italian's head. 

Italy closed his eyes to prevent himself from groaning with want, breathing in before looking to the two countries above with a bright smile.

"There, all done!"

His smile faltered a little as he noticed the look the two were giving him. Ludwig was incredibly flustered and Francis' mouth was open, before closing as he swallowed. 

"Well done, mon cher," and he patted the Italian on the head, who couldn't help closing his eyes at the touch. 

When he opened them again  France's eyes had gone all dark and just like Germany, a flush had risen to his face. 

Oh…

Italy looked over to Germany who had looked away.

"Aw, poor Germany must still be cold!" Italy said, pretending to be oblivious to the tension between the three of them. 

"A-actually I'm feeling much warmer already, thank you!" The German stuttered.

"Allemagne, you have goose bumps from the cold!" Francis said as he trailed his hand over those muscular arms. 

The German closed his eyes in frustration, "yes, well I'm still alright though, can’t explain that."

His eyes snapped open when he felt hands at the front of his pants.  

It was Italy unbuckling his belt, from his position on his knees, with the skilled hands of someone who had done so a thousand times. 

Ludwig cursed under his breath, "No! Italy I am fine! I swear!" 

But it was too late his pants where undone by both Italy and France, the latter who had moved to stand behind the German, to help lower his soaked pants. 

A few seconds of silence as Germany accepted his fate.

"Oh my…" Italy trailed off.

"Oooh, quelle surprise," Francis whistled. (What a surprise)

Before them was Germany in his black briefs, with a clear and incredibly inviting erection. 

The German moved his hands over it, "I'm so, so, sorry to you both. You wanted to help me and here I am unable to hide the proof of my perversion."

"Ludwig, mon cher, I'm going to be honest with you, me and Feliciano are yearning for your perversion. We want all of it!" 

"Wait what?" 

Actions speaking louder than words Francis moved closer till he was pressed with his front to the German's back. 

"Do you feel how much I want you?" France purred in his ear. 

Germany gasped and his hips buckled accidentally pressing his groin into the face that was just in front of it. 

"Scheisse, I'm so sorry Feliciano." 

"Fuck, Ludovico, don't be, God." Italy groaned, moving his head forward to nuzzle his crotch. 

To France's great amusement, Germany pinched himself to check if he was dreaming.

"The one question, mon cher, is... if you want us to take care of you, completely?" France purred into his ear, nipping at the shell. 

Germany was feeling overwhelmed. 

But something in him broke. 

Tired of repressing his wants and desires he gave in. 

"God, yes." He breathed out. 

Which was all he needed to say before the other two countries jumped on their prey. 

They were going to make him forget there was ever anything outside of the world of pleasure they had to offer.

When it comes to matters of sex and desire, nothing will ever surpass the Franco-Italian alliance! 

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Fin