He wasn't sure how it had started. They'd always been…well, not close. (Had they ever been?) No, but Feliciano had always been clingy, had always wanted too many kisses, too many light touches and when the other had finally lost his virginity… 'About time', he'd thought. Though it hadn't been with him, it had been that German bastard and it made his blood boil. Whether he was jealous of Gilbert or Feliciano, he couldn't really say.

That wasn't the point though. The point was, once he'd lost his virginity he'd had no problem with going beyond those light touches and kisses. He'd discovered something new and fun and, "Oh, wouldn't it be nice to have fun together?" He trilled out, slowly unbuttoning Lovino's shirt.

Soon there were soft hands moving up his legs, warm kisses on his neck and cries of, "But you're my fra-tell-o. We're supposed to love each other!" Lovino wants to protest, emphasize that they aren't supposed to love each other like that, and that's not what people mean when they say those things- and for the love of God, he's not even drunk- but he's cut off when Feliciano's lips move to his mouth. And why did he even want to protest again?

His brother wasn't innocent anymore, there was nothing to protect him from. And what did being brothers matter to a country? They were a country, one country. Feliciano was right, it made sense. A lot of sense. They were two parts of a whole and they should be connected, needed to be- He felt a hand brush the front of his underwear, (When had Feliciano gotten his pants off?) and he gasped sharply. "Y-You're fucking e-eager-" He doesn't know what else to say, and what else can he say with his voice shaking like that and Feliciano commenting that he sounds like a broken espresso machine as he continues doing those wonderful things with his fingers.

And all Lovino can think now is that Feliciano's always been good with his hands.