yuuago: (DenNor - Be with you)
[personal profile] yuuago posting in [community profile] nordipalooza
Title: Firm Form, Soft Touch
Author/Artist: [personal profile] yuuago/[personal profile] roesslyng/Rukkilill
Prompt: Norway/Denmark - Frills - Modern
Other characters: N/A
Rating: 18+
Content notes: Rating is for sex. Norway tops, Denmark crossdresses, they both have a good time.
Summary: They've been close for a long time, but that doesn't mean that there isn't anything new left to learn about each other.



Firm Form, Soft Touch

The fabric was soft and slippery under his fingertips. A barely-there transparent thing, lightweight, edged with lace. He drew it further out of the drawer to take a look at it. It was the kind of thing that left little to the imagination.

Lacy nightwear was not exactly the kind of thing he expected to find in Denmark's dresser drawers. But, after the initial surprise, Norway simply folded it neatly, replaced it back there he had found it, and reached for the box of condoms that he had gone in there to get.

"Did you find it?" Denmark asked from over where he was checking and re-checking his suitcase. They had been planning their trip for weeks, but that didn't change the fact that regardless of how many times he checked, there was no doubt that he would forget something.

"Found it." Norway tossed the box over onto the bed next to him. Then, after pausing for a moment, he added, "You ought to give that frilly thing back to that girl who left it here. Think she'd appreciate it."

He expected the blushing; even if he teased Denmark now and then about his international relations, the response was always the same: a blush, and a grin to go along with it.

What he did not expect to see was Denmark turning as red as a pepper, nor the way his head jerked up to stare at Norway, wide-eyes and looking more embarrassed than Norway had seen him in a very, very long time.

"Uh," Denmark said. "I dunno what you're talking about, Nor." He cleared his throat and went back to double checking.

For a second or two, Norway stared at him, processing this. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"So," he said. "It don't belong to anyone else, then."

"Right, it - hey!" Denmark looked over at him. The expression on his face had gone from embarrassed to something between worried and put out. "It's nothing weird or anything, okay?"

Knew it, Norway thought. "Have a sit, will you." He patted mattress beside him. Waited until Denmark came over. Then, as soon as he plunked down, leaned against him - just slightly, just gently.

The body next to him was tense - at least at first. Norway waited a moment more. Then slowly, Denmark inhaled, exhaled, and relaxed. That's better, Norway thought. "Didn't think you'd get bothered," he murmured.

"Nah. Just wouldn't want people knowing. With you it's all right. But..." Denmark paused, as if trying to grasp at the right way to put it, then sighed. "Wouldn't want anyone else to know. Y'know?"

"Know what, that you like wearin' frilly underthings?"

"It's not weird!"

"Didn't say it was." As if to emphasize his point, Norway edged a little closer, and leaned against him more firmly. The tenseness he'd felt from earlier had returned. Usually, Denmark was so warm and loose and at ease; it wasn't hard to tell when something was bothering him.

He took Denmark's hand and squeezed it. "Everyone's got their own things that they like. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

The exhale was something he felt more than heard, but it was there. "Right." A murmur, nothing else.

"An' I wouldn't mind trying that with you, y'know. If you'd want."

"Really?"

Norway made a quiet noise of acknowledgment. Squeezed his hand again. "Ain't anything weird. Already told you." A pause. "Ain't like you're into dressin' up like a rubber chicken or summat. I'd have to pass on that one."

Denmark laughed. It was an easy laugh, a real laugh, the kind that told that everything would be fine. "Well, when ya' put it that way...."

"Yes?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

Good enough. "Let's get back to packing. Won't make good time unless we leave soon, y'know."

"Right. ... Hey, Nor?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."



Neither of them said a single thing about it during the entire vacation. After they left the room, the talk was over. Not another thing whispered about it. During the drive out of Copenhagen, Denmark talked, went on and on and on about how Iceland was doing, about what Netherlands had told him the other day, about how he was getting on with Germany, and have you heard about that new thing they're working on over in Belgium with solar energy - no? Well, it's like this, see -

He didn't say anything about what Norway had found in his drawers, and Norway didn't ask.

Even if Denmark said nothing, that didn't mean he didn't give anything away. Norway watched and listened. Took in his movements, his tone of voice. While they drove, he was at ease, and even more so after they reached the campsite. Norway knew that his friend's relaxed stance wasn't just on account of the fresh air and nice scenery.

Well, Norway thought. All right, then.



The phone call came about a week after they returned from their shoreside vacation. Some time to think about it was, perhaps, all that Denmark had needed.

Norway waited, and listened, doing the dishes with the phone cradled against his shoulder while Denmark went on, and on, and on. Finally, the real subject came, and thankfully without his prompting it.

"So, I was thinkin', uh..."

A pause. It was a very telling pause. Norway closed his eyes and imagined Denmark, his ears tinged red from embarrassment. "What were you going to say?" he asked, pressing more gently than he usually might.

"Well, y'know, I... were ya serious about it when you said you wouldn't mind trying... uh."

"The frills 'n all that?"

Another pause, longer than the first. Norway could picture it - the flush traveling slowly across Denmark's cheeks and down his throat.

"Yeah. That." A deep breath. "It's not weird."

"Never said it was," Norway murmured. How many reassurances would it take? He wondered how it might be if Denmark had waited to say it in person instead of calling. He imagined cupping his cheeks, feeling that flushed skin against his fingertips, kissing him slowly and gently to give him that assurance he wanted without having to say anything at all. "Told you before. Wouldn't mind trying that with you. I'd like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Norway wasn't sure if the tone he heard in Denmark's voice was disbelief or relief, but it didn't matter. He kept his own voice steady, matter-of-fact. "Could try it when you come by my place next, mayhaps."

"Yeah. Sounds..." There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Denmark needed a breath to cool himself down. "Sounds good to me."

There was more that he wasn't saying. Norway was sure of it. If they were face to face, he'd probably hear all of it: Denmark enthusing about what a great guy Norway was, just as a distraction from the issue itself and the conversation they were having. But on the phone, there was nothing except another breath.

Maybe he was just nervous.

"Have you tried this with anyone else?" Norway asked. He kept his voice low-toned and easy, familiar.

There was a long silence. "Uh," Denmark said. 'No."

"Because you were worried it'd be weird." The silence was answer enough. Norway imagined him nodding, embarrassed, the way he had seen him in the bedroom that day. "It's not weird," Norway said. "Remember that." As far as Norway was concerned, it wasn't weird at all.



The night before Denmark was to arrive, Norway rested in bed, staring out the window at the moonlight. It was late, late enough that the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon long enough to give a proper night, even if the clear sky ensured it would be a bright one.

Denmark would join him tomorrow.

Norway closed his eyes and nestled under the thin blankets. It wasn't hard to bring him to mind - the familiar weight on the bed beside him, the scent of soap and cologne. Long arm coiling around him while coarse, springy hair tickled at his neck, a long pointed nose nuzzling against him. That was Denmark.

He wondered if tomorrow he'd feel the same way about the idea.

It isn't weird, he had told Denmark. It was true. He'd meant it. Not weird at all.

Should he have said more? Told him more than only that he didn't mind. That there were other things to it.

Well. Even if he should have, he hadn't. And even if he hadn't, that didn't mean he couldn't say anything about it later. It didn't matter so much, anyway.

Norway rolled onto his back. Nudged the thin blankets off. Even if it wasn't deep summer, it was still too warm for his liking. Or maybe it was Denmark's fault. He imagined the weight on his bed, a heavy presence shifting until it was over him. Denmark's mouth on his neck, his lips damp. He always had that way about him - his movements were never delicate. Even in Norway's imagination, Denmark gave sloppy kisses.

Well, Norway thought. he wouldn't be Denmark if he didn't. And it wasn't as if Norway minded, anyway.

Mouth on his lips, then down. He slid his own hands downward, following the path his mind took, because it had run away from him. Parted his legs. Knees up. Imagined the way they might slide against fabric as Denmark got between them. Satin on bare skin.

He imagined Denmark's lips softer, his cheeks more flushed than they'd usually be, warmth spreading over them as he opened his mouth and took him in. As he coiled his fingers around his cock and stroked himself slowly, Norway imagined it. Tried to picture it. Denmark in that clothing he'd found, lace trim brushing his thighs, his erection pressing against the sheer fabric. Long lashes brushing against his cheeks, flushed not from embarrassment but because he was so turned on by what he was wearing.

"Touch yourself," Norway whispered. It was little more than a breath, but in his mind, his voice was steady and firm as he spoke, as he reached down to sink his fingers into Denmark's hair.

The eyelashes fluttered upward; for a moment their gazes met. Denmark groaned softly, the sound quiet and muffled. Then, ever obedient, one of his hands moved. Slid from its place at Norway's hip. Downward, until strong fingers lifted up the lace hem and Denmark palmed himself, moaning.



Norway stared up at the ceiling for a second or two. Then he rolled over, panting, and closed his eyes.

He ignored, for a moment, the mess he'd made of the sheets and the sticky, sweaty feeling that he could only blame himself for.

He thought about Denmark.

Maybe he should have said something.

Then again, Norway thought, as he drew in a deep breath, would it have made a difference? No, probably not. At most, it wouldn't add anything, and Denmark's decision would have been just the same. At worst, it might make one or both of them self-conscious.

Couldn't have that.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Norway sighed and knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep, not after that.

He glanced at the clock. Denmark would arrive that day.

Well, he thought as he drew the sheets over himself. That's just fine. It would turn out all right. He'd see to it.



Denmark arrived the next day. He let himself in, calling out to Norway, who went to the front entrance to greet him. The "hello" had no sooner slipped out of his mouth than Denmark swept him into his arms with a laugh.

Business as usual, then, Norway thought. This time, he didn't try to squirm out of Denmark's arms; he let him give him a squeeze, and return it by reaching up to ruffle that mess Denmark called hair.

"Hah! Awful friendly today, aren't you," Denmark said, grinning as he finally stopped clinging, instead drawing away to slip his jacket off.

"I'm in a good mood. That's all."

"Happy to see me?"

"Could say that." Norway kept his face straight as he took Denmark's jacket and hung it up, but he knew that Denmark would know he meant it, anyway. Being close to someone for so many years meant coming around to understanding that kind of thing.

But, Norway thought as he looked back to Denmark, that didn't mean that there never would be any secrets or surprises. And that was why they were both here, wasn't it. It was why Denmark had come for a visit.

For a flicker of a second, Denmark's smile seemed nervous. As if he could read Norway's mind. As if he was almost, but not quite, having second thoughts.

Norway decided to nip it in the bud. "Come on, then," he said, gently but firmly nudging Denmark in the direction of the kitchen. "Let's have some coffee."



That was all it took to break the slight unease he'd seen on his face. Coffee in familiar blue mugs, black for himself, two sugars for Denmark. Buttery cookies on the side, made that morning. Denmark's smile told him well enough that he'd hit the right now - which, to be fair, wasn't that hard to figure out.

He knew what Denmark liked.

The air was warm, but not too much. Just right. He took him out onto the back patio, and they sat together, a chess board between them and the scent from the garden carrying their way on the occasional gentle breeze.

"You'll lose," Norway said simply as he set the pieces up.

"Nah, you can't know that for sure. I've been practicing."

"Y'think you can beat me?"

"'Course!"

"Go on, then. Play," Norway said, letting a smile tug at his lips and not bothering to hide it. They both knew who would win, but that didn't matter. Everything else was what mattered.

As he watched Denmark over the edge of his coffee cup, making the first move, he could see that the tension was gone from his shoulders, that his hands moved with the sort of relaxed ease that he was used to. It didn't take much. Not at first, anyway. The rest - well. They would have to see about the rest.



The day passed lazily, relaxing, easing gently into evening. All through it, Norway listened to Denmark talk, or at least pretended to. Most of it went in one ear and out the other. He knew the kind of things that Denmark would talk about when given leave: Everything.

But as the light outside began to drop, he nudged at Denmark. They stood in the kitchen, side by side, washing the dishes left from supper. When Denmark paused in his babbling, Norway leaned against him.

"Go to bed ahead of me, if you like," he said softly, keeping his tone low. "Get yourself sorted out."

The look Denmark gave him was a mixture of surprise and relief. "I... uh. Good idea."

Norway gave him a nudge. Denmark didn't need much persuading. Norway watched him out of the corner of his eye as he left, then went back to work, and tried not to think about it.

It was harder than he thought.

It had been a long time since they had tried anything new. There were things they liked, of course. Things both of them liked. Things they did now and then, just to keep it interesting. But it had been a long time since either of them had a new idea. A thought sidled into Norway's mind and nestled there: If this went well, maybe they could try other things.

Maybe.

He waited, taking his time, settling down at the kitchen table to read, even if he couldn't keep his mind on the novel in his hands. There was no need to rush things. Denmark, by the look he'd seen on his face, wanted some time. As far as Norway was concerned, that was fine by him.

It didn't stop him from lifting his head to look at the clock more than he needed to. And finally, when he felt that enough time had passed, he was glad to close the book, rise from his seat, and make his way quietly to his bedroom.

A soft golden light showed under the door. Norway knocked, following with, "It's me." As if it would be anyone else.

There was a startled silence from inside. Then, the familiar voice: "Okay, Nor. Come in."

He stepped in. He shut the door behind him. He took in what he saw.

The thick curtains had been pulled shut, blocking out any lingering brightness from outside, and the only light came from the desk lamp, washing a warm golden glow over part of the room, but leaving most of it in shadows. Denmark stood in front of the dresser, looking at himself in the mirror above it, trying to sweep his hair into somewhat less of a mess.

He was wearing the nightdress. It was shorter than Norway had expected from the glance he'd taken in Denmark's bedroom when he first looked at it. Denmark's height was to blame, taking what would have been more modest on someone else to an absolutely indecent length. The hem brushed at his upper thighs, lace edging against firm muscle, just barely covering everything.

Norway swallowed, fought down the blush he could feel rushing along his throat, and went over to him. As he coiled his arms around Denmark's waist, resting his cheek against the broadness of his shoulders, he breathed in deeply to steady himself. "How d'you feel about this?" he murmured, remembering the uncertainty he had noticed earlier that day.

"Uh. Well, I'm doing okay," Denmark said. His hand moved, covered Norway's, giving it a squeeze. "But y'know...."

"... Yes?"

"This is gonna' sound stupid."

"A lot've the things you say sound stupid. Let's hear it anyway."

Denmark gave a soft laugh, knitting their fingers together. "I was thinkin' this would look a whole lot better if I was prettier. Like you."

Norway rolled his eyes. "Come off it," he muttered, loosening his hold on him. Drawing away a bit, he gave him a gentle nudge. "Turn around and let me get a look at you."

Obediently, Denmark turned around, leaning against the dresser. In the light, there seemed to be a hint of flush on his cheeks. Norway noted it, then took a half-step back and looked him up and down. The lace brushed his thighs as before, reaching just barely far enough that he couldn't see anything underneath. Across his chest, the dress fit more closely than expected, the thin fabric flush against muscle. Did he have this altered to fit? Norway wondered as he let his gaze slide over him, then dismissed the thought. It wasn't important. What was important was lace trim, and narrow straps on broad shoulders.

He looked up to Denmark's face. His partner was blushing, there was no question of it this time, but he was grinning too, and that was just fine.

"I find you plenty attractive," Norway said firmly, taking a step forward to close the distance between them.

"Attractive and pretty ain't the same thing."

"No," Norway agreed. "They ain't." He rested his hands on Denmark's chest, then slid them up, slowly, to cup his face. Brushed a few strands of messy hair out of the way. Looked up at him, thinking, while Denmark looked down, his droopy eyes curious and his lips slightly parted, as if he were going to speak but for once thought better of it.

Brushing his thumb against Denmark's lower lip, Norway considered for a moment. He remembered the dream from the night before. Maybe... "Might be that y'just need summat extra," he said. "I've got an idea."

"Like what?"

"Hold on." He drew away from Denmark and reached for one of the drawers. There was no need for rummaging; he knew exactly what he was looking for. The two thin tubes were exactly where they were supposed to be. He held them up, giving Denmark a nod. "We'll work with what you already have."

Denmark reached out, took them, read the labels. Raised both eyebrows, more in surprise than disbelief. "Y'sure?"

"If you wouldn't mind tryin'."

There was a long pause. Finally, Denmark handed them back. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "But I don't know how to use this stuff, y'know... You'll have to -"

"That's fine. Now, hold still."



The light was dim, but it was enough to work by. As Denmark leaned against the dresser, flushed and trying hard not to blink, Norway reached up with the mascara wand and started on his other eye.

"Told you to hold still."

"I am holdin' still!"

"Not still enough."

"I'd like to see you let someone put that gunk on your eyes without you blinkin' a little."

Norway raised an eyebrow, capped the mascara, and reached for the lip gloss. "Can do my own, thanks," he said. "Now, hold still, and don't talk, understand?"

Denmark looked as if he were going to argue, thought better of it, and nodded. Once again, Norway reached up, cupping his face gently. "Open your mouth a bit," he muttered, prompting him with a thumb to the lips. "Just slightly." He said nothing else after Denmark obeyed, simply slid the gloss applicator over his partner's lips in silence. When he was finished, he drew away, looked him over, and gave a satisfied nod.

For a moment, Denmark said nothing, his expression thoughtful as he pressed and slid his lips together, getting used to the sensation. Then a look crossed his eyes, and he stared at Norway. "What did ya' mean about you doing it on yer own?" he asked.

Norway stared back, then shrugged. "You ain't the only one who likes dressing up now 'n then," he said simply.

"Wh-"

"Turn around, then, and give yourself a look." He gave him a nudge, just firm enough to push him to do what he wanted to do. Norway knew the question Denmark had wanted to ask, and he didn't feel like explaining. Better to get to the topic at hand.

Luckily, Denmark took the hint. Turning toward the mirror again, he scrutinized his appearance. Batted his eyelashes a bit. Norway wrapped his arms around him again and waited for him to say something.

"What d'you think?" Denmark muttered finally.

"What d'you think?" Norway asked.

"I asked you first."

Norway tightened his hold on him. Tilted his head a bit, enough to look at Denmark in the mirror. His drooping eyes looked darker, the lashes resting low, giving what might usually be a sleepy look a more alluring note. "I think," he said softly, "You've got nice eyes. Long lashes. Looks good. Ain't easy to see 'em, usually, on account've 'em being so light. This brings 'em out more."

"Ya like that?"

"I do."

"Huh." Denmark seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged and batted his eyes at him in the mirror. "Gee, Nor, you should've said something before! ...What about my mouth, then?"

Heat rose once again in Norway's cheeks, and he did his best to keep his expression straight. Not easy, with the sensation of Denmark's body against him, and the way he was grinning at him in the mirror as if he knew exactly what the answer would be. "You already know what I think've that mouth of yours," he muttered. And as Denmark laughed, Norway allowed himself a smile. Of course Denmark knew.

As he let his hands slide, he continued, murmuring low, his head tilted to speak near Denmark's ear. Not too close, but close enough. "I like the way you look," he said quietly, letting his hands move up, over the smooth slippery fabric, trailing over his partner's body, feeling the familiar muscle underneath. "It's a good look for you. Understand?"

There was a hitch of breath, a pause as if Denmark were going to speak. Then he felt him nod instead, as if he knew that it would be better if he didn't say anything and left the talking to Norway, for once. That was encouraging. For a moment, Norway said nothing else, simply let his hands slide over Denmark's broad chest. His mind raced as he looked for the words; ordinarily, he'd rather say nothing. Let his actions speak for themselves, let what he didn't say speak for itself. But centuries of knowing Denmark had taught him well enough: Denmark could pick up on some things, but that didn't mean he'd pick up everything. Words were better. Telling him things was better. Fine, then.

"You ought to understand," he said, letting his voice drop to a whisper, letting his breath brush against his partner's ear as he sprawled his fingers over Denmark's chest. Rolled his thumbs over his nipples through the thin fabric, and felt more than heard him gasp. "I wanted to bend you over the moment I walked through that door."

"Fuck, Nor-"

"That's the idea." Norway bit his lip. It was all he could do to keep from laughing. Denmark wasn't a master of words at any time, and he certainly wasn't in the bedroom, either. But the point had been made. He could tell by the way he felt his large form shiver against him, the low moan Denmark gave as he slowly rubbed his nipples between thumb and forefinger, letting the fabric give the friction an edge. He took in the sound of his breathing, and as it quickened, he peeked over Denmark's shoulder at the sight in the mirror. Dark lashes low. Flushed cheeks. Denmark's lips parted, full and slick-looking.

Closing his eyes, Norway slid one of his hands down. Slowly, over Denmark's chest, over his stomach, along his hip, until he reached the hem of the nightdress. He felt him shudder, heard him draw in a breath. He paused, then dipped his hand beneath the lace edging and palmed him.

Hard. Good. Not that he'd expected anything else. "Now," Norway murmured, slowly stroking his fingers along the length of his partner's cock, "I reckon it's about time we got you in bed. Don't you think."

All Denmark gave was a moan in response, but that was good enough.



The air in the room seemed warmer than before, or maybe it was only due to the golden light from the small lamp played over Denmark's face as he sprawled out over Norway's mattress. That familiar smile was on his face, a look of satisfaction and contentment, was made even better by the comfortable wash of soft light and shadow, even if they hadn't even started yet. It was good.

Norway took his time with undressing, undoing buttons while he let his gaze sweep over Denmark, from those wide shoulders to his broad chest to bare muscular thighs, wrapped in a package of translucent fabric and thin lace that hardly covered anything, and certainly did nothing to hide the erection that pressed against it.

"Like what ya see?" Denmark asked. He waggled his eyebrows.

"I do," Norway said, holding back the urge to roll his eyes at Denmark's expression. Even in situations like this, Denmark was Denmark. As he shrugged his shirt off and moved to fold it, he looked over him again. A thought crossed his mind. "You ought to give me more to look at, mind you."

Denmark's eyes flickered for a moment as he processed this. Then he grinned, shifting, moving to part his thighs. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He didn't need to prompt him any more than that. Over the years, Norway had come to know what Denmark liked. What to say. Where to touch. And the other things. Even if they were trying something new, there were other things that would go along very well.

Denmark liked putting on a show.

As Norway undressed, he did it slowly. He took his time and watched him. Watched as those familiar thighs spread, as strong fingers dipped down to draw up the hem of the nightdress, exposing everything. Watched as Denmark wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a firm stroke, moaning in a way that didn't sound at all as if it was only for Norway's benefit.

Norway breathed in deeply, steadied his hands, and ignored the flush he could feel in his own cheeks as he stripped off the rest of his clothing. Suddenly, he felt no need to take his time.

A second later, he was on the bed, and Denmark was under him, tilting his head up to meet him, long arms wrapping around his shoulders. He caught his lips in a kiss, felt his slick mouth open for him, slid his tongue past them and felt him moan. Slowly, he dipped his hands to slide them along Denmark's body, touching as he had done before every hint of muscle, letting his fingers slip along the fabric until they reached the hem. He drew it up more. Slid his hands lower, along Denmark's broad thighs, gently but firmly pushing them further apart until he heard Denmark whimper against his mouth.

They broke the kiss. Norway ducked his head, pressing his lips along the line of Denmark's throat. Mouthed at his collarbone. Spread a palm flat along his hip, holding him down as they ground against each other. Closed his eyes and listened - which wasn't difficult. Denmark was as noisy in bed as he was outside of it.

After a moment, he lifted his head to press a kiss against his cheek. "How d'you feel about this?" he muttered.

A groan was the first response he received, then Denmark rolling his hips, pressing up against him. "Never better." Pausing, Denmark gasped softly, trying to catch his breath. He rested back on the covers, and as Norway lifted his head to look at him properly, slid his hand to run his fingers through Norway's hair. "You?"

"Hmm." Tilting his head, he pressed a kiss to Denmark's palm. The reaction didn't surprise him, not with the way Denmark had been acting. It was good. For a second, their earlier conversations flitted through his mind. It's not weird.

"Reckon it's time to stop messin' around," he murmured. "Wouldn't you think?"

For once, Denmark didn't say anything. He simply cupped the back of Norway's head and pulled him down, kissing him firmly, leaving not a hint of doubt as to how he felt about it.

It wasn't weird at all.



Ordinarily, Norway might have drawn it out. Taken his time. Made Denmark wait. Teased him until he begged. But it wasn't the right time for that; it wasn't the right night for that kind of thing. Both of them were impatient.

The nightdress made it more than different enough to be interesting. The dress and the rest of it. Norway kissed him firmly, lips hard against his slick mouth as he pushed the fabric up out of the way, then dipped a hand low to ease him. And when he finally slid into him, giving a soft groan against Denmark's lips, he paused a moment. Took in the way it felt. The tightness of Denmark around him, the sensation of satin under his palms as he settled his hands firmly at his partner's hips. Broke the kiss and looked down at him, took in the sight of him with his cheeks flushed in the dim light and his long eyelashes low.

Denmark looked up at him, his breaths coming quick. He licked his lips, looking as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. "Nor?"

Norway ducked his head and pressed further into him. He heard Denmark groan and the sound made a small smile tug at his lips. So noisy, always. "Y'look good," he murmured, letting his lips graze against Denmark's ear. "That's all."

Then, finished with talking, he kissed him.



It was a cold morning. The thin light slipped groundward, just barely making an effort. Norway breathed in, took in the scent of earth and plants. It wasn't sunny, not just yet, but it was only a matter of time before things would warm up.

He finished watering his tomatoes, then stepped back inside. Poured himself a coffee, paused for a moment as he heard the sound of the wood floor creaking beneath familiar footsteps, then reached for another mug.

"Mornin'," he said, not bothering to turn. "Two sugars?"

"Nah, make it three."

As long arms coiled around his waist, Norway leaned back into Denmark, taking in the familiar warmth. "Wouldn't have any teeth left in your head if we were human, you know," he said. "Seein's how you carry on with the sweets like that."

A laugh and nuzzling by his ear. "'Course! But we ain't."

No, Norway thought. We aren't, and it's for the better. He poured the coffee, doing it slowly, taking his time as he thought over what he wanted to say. Tilted his head against Denmark's, not quite nuzzling back. "Had a good time last night, did you?" he asked quietly.

There was a pause. Not hesitant, just thoughtful. "Yeah." The arms around Norway's waist tightened, squeezing gently. "I did. ... You?"

"Yes." One sugar, two sugars, three, the spoon clinking in time with his mind as he thought it over, even if it didn't need thinking. "Wouldn't mind doin' that again."

"'Course, 'course."

There was a long pause. Norway waited. Closed his eyes and rested against him, taking in the sound of Denmark's breathing, the heat of his body, the sensation of arms around him. The brush of coarse hair as Denmark nuzzled at his neck.

"Nor?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

Norway smiled. Even after so many years, they could still surprise each other.

End

Date: 2015-05-24 03:55 am (UTC)
kiramaru7: (Default)
From: [personal profile] kiramaru7
Awe... that was really sweet! I loved the slow, languid feel of it. :D