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roesslyngTitle: The leaves have taken to falling
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Norway
Rating: 18+ [Sex, haircurl play, fisting]
Length: 6.3k
Summary: Even after all this time, they still manage to surprise one another.
Other: Set toward the end of the 1780s. Written for Hetalia Writers Discord's OTP event. Prompts used: "Firsts" + "Do you trust me?"
Title comes from Olav Hauge's "I pause beneath the old oak one rainy day".
The leaves have taken to falling
The room glowed with warm candlelight.
Norway fell back onto the mattress, sank into the softness, and watched Denmark remove his clothing.
He felt flushed, but he knew it was from the warm bath he'd had not long before. It wasn't on account of anything else.
In that moment, he would have lost himself in that mattress if he could.
With half-open eyes, he watched him. Fabric slipping off in the dim light. He was fumbling with the fastenings, big hands clumsy, and whether it was on account of lack of grace or because he was eager to join him, Norway was uncertain.
A glance toward the bed. Denmark knew Norway was watching him. Caught sight of him looking.
Norway didn't look away.
Denmark grinned. Looked for half a second like he might say something, then thought better of it, and went back to getting himself out of his clothes.
He's learning, Norway thought as he closed his eyes. Took him long enough.
The bed sank beneath the added weight as Denmark slipped on to join him, and seconds later Norway felt that mouth cover his own in a full, hard kiss. He took it willingly, lips parted. Let him do it.
As he reached up to sweep his fingers through Denmark's hair, Norway sighed against his mouth.
It had been a while since they'd had this.
He had been up north, farther than usual, spending time in his most northern reaches. Trondheim at the beginning. Then Tromsø. Then further. Vardø. Business during the summer months, that was all. Catching up with his northernmost neighbour, talking plain over the matter of now-legitimate trade routes that had always existed.
And time away led to fondness, or at least something like it. Even if it was Denmark. Even if it hadn't been that long of a time since they'd last been together, not considering the span of their lives. Even if it was only an ache for the company of someone familiar, someone he understood.
The northern nights had been bright and warm, but he'd missed the feeling of those broad hands on him.
Now here he was again. South, now, with summer's end. In Denmark's capital. In Denmark's bed. And there was no doubt that soon, Norway would have quite enough of this place, of the sheer Danishness of it all, of the people and the noise and of too close company.
But for the moment, he felt warm, and comfortable, and almost drunkenly relaxed. He welcomed Denmark's weight on him. Sprawled out underneath him as he returned his deep open-mouthed kisses.
Over-eager, as usual. But slow. Tender. Maybe he really was trying. It seemed like it. Denmark still hadn't quite figured out where the line was, when he was pushing too far, when things were too much. Norway knew that Denmark thought that sometimes what Norway wanted and liked was confusing. As if he couldn't follow the ebb and flow of Norway's moods, couldn't read the signals he made even if he didn't come out and say it.
But he was trying. And that was good. Norway kissed him and let out a soft and approving sound as he felt Denmark slip his hand underneath his head to cradle it gently. In that moment, he could relax into his arms with ease and let him do anything, anything at all. Go ahead with whatever he wanted. It wasn't as if they both didn't feel the same way.
They broke the kiss. Eventually. And Denmark moved to sink next to him rather than over him, the better to hold him close. The better to stroke at his hair, his cheek, his mouth, thumb brushing over his lower lip.
Norway turned his head and grazed a kiss to his palm. Let his mouth linger there. Nuzzled for a moment into his hand. It was more affection than he'd usually show, but for tonight, the mood was right for it.
Denmark stroked his cheek again, and then moved to continue sliding his fingers through Norway's hair. Taking his time with this, isn't he, Norway thought. And when Norway considered it, he realized that the gestures were not only like someone taking care, but like someone hesitating, afraid to move too quickly.
"I know what you're after," Norway said. "And you can have it, long's you go easy." It wasn't, perhaps, the most inviting way to put it, but he kept his tone soft and hoped Denmark would understand how he meant it.
There was a pause. As if there was something Denmark wanted to say, but he didn't know how to put it, and for once he was going to think it over before speaking. Then, his lips brushing Norway's ear, he whispered, "I missed you, y'know."
Norway stared upward for a while, digesting this.
It was something that Denmark had already mentioned at least three times that day. But there was something about the way he said it now, in the warmth of his bed, in the low light, that made it different.
Norway parted his lips. Thought about speaking. Thought better of it. Then thought again. He knew Denmark was waiting for something, could feel the anticipation in his silence.
"I see."
Then nothing else. Norway waited, wondering if Denmark had anything to say to that. But there was that silence again, a silence that almost vibrated from the effort to keep words in.
Well, Norway thought.
"Come closer, will you," he murmured, finally turning his head to look at him. Once again, he kept his words soft, and reached out to him as if to make a point of it.
A flicker of surprise, which shouldn't have been surprise at all, and then a smile spread over Denmark's lips. "Yes, sir!" he said, the words almost a laugh as he moved to kiss him again.
Norway shut him up before he could say anything else. Not that he minded, exactly. In fact, the title, that word, sir, sent a thrill of warmth trailing through him, mixing with the bath's lingering heat. He liked it.
But he liked kissing Denmark more than he liked talking. Better to pull him close, to sink his fingers into that coarse hair. To let the heat of his body add to his own.
It wasn't that he had missed him. It was only....
Well. It was what it was.
Denmark's hand moved. His fingertips slid down Norway's spine until his hand rested at the small of his back, drawing him close. Closer. Holding him there. Warm, grounded, familiar.
He'd been tired when he came here, and Denmark made him feel more tired still. But Norway had meant it when he'd said that whatever he was after, he could have it.
It didn't take much to encourage him. Norway kissed him. Kept his mouth soft against Denmark's lips. Stroked at his hair, let his fingers slide through that mess, knowing that he loved the way it felt. A quiet, muffled moan against his lips was just the effect he wanted.
He pulled Denmark on top of him again.
There was something good about being arranged that way. His back pressed to the mattress. Sprawled out under that large, warm form on top of him. Denmark's hand, still cradling his head, the gesture more considerate than most might expect of him.
They broke the kiss. Denmark dipped his head to Norway's throat, nuzzling and kissing there, his lips damp.
Norway closed his eyes. Trailed his fingertips, letting them sprawl over those broad shoulders, slide down Denmark's back. He knew every inch of him, every scrap of coast, every landmark, but he touched him as if exploring him again.
There was a soft sound against his neck, a heavy intake of air that made a smile tug at Norway's lips. To think, even after all this time, little more than a touch could get him worked up. He felt a shiver. The slightest tremor under his fingertips. And the rest... well.
He rocked up against him a little. The smile broadened a bit as he felt his reaction. The way Denmark's hips jerked down against him. The way his thighs trembled as Norway coiled his legs around him. Firm already, and they'd hardly done a thing.
The kisses at his throat were sloppy and damp. But they were heartfelt, and tender, and Norway couldn't help but let Denmark do it. Let him lavish attention on him, soak in the sensation that made his breath catch. Why the hell not.
I missed you, he'd said. Through all those times he'd heard it that day, Norway had thought it had been exaggeration. The usual too-much of everything Denmark did or said. But.
Maybe it hadn't been all talk.
Lips to his mouth again. Soft, slippery, indelicate kisses, until Denmark pulled away and Norway blinked his eyes open to look at him.
Denmark had bracketed one arm to balance himself, messy hair falling in his face a bit as he looked downward. Cheeks far too flushed already, and that smile on his face broad as always. Somehow, in the candle light, it was a charming look on him.
Perhaps, Norway thought, the warmth he felt couldn't be blamed on the bath alone. Or the way it had felt to have those lips against his pulse. Or the press of Denmark's hip against his cock. Not that he would say it. He didn't want to think about it. But there it was.
"Now. What's on your mind, then." The words were thick in his mouth.
"Oh, nothin'."
Norway bit back a comment at that. Usually, he wouldn't. But he could feel Denmark's fingers moving beneath his head to brush at the soft curls at the base of his neck. "Oh?" he said, even as he tilted his head a bit to let him do it.
"Just thinking. You looked tired before. How're you doing now?"
It was no wonder that Norway had looked it, but that Denmark had noticed – now, that surprised him. It stood to reason that after travel, and getting here, and everything else, he'd feel dead on his feet. But Denmark could be oblivious at the best of times. He wondered what else he'd noticed. "Not tired now," Norway said. "Not in the same way, anyhow." Relaxed, he thought, that's all. Paused, then added, "The bath was nice."
"Yeah?" The smile widened.
"Yes."
"That's good." Denmark dipped his head to kiss at Norway's cheek. "You smell nice."
There had been scented soap. Lavender. Fancy. Expensive. Much too frivolous, Norway had thought, even as he'd indulged himself with it.
Maybe it had been Denmark's idea.
Norway parted his lips to ask about it. Before he could speak, Denmark's hand finally found the sensitive spot he had been searching for, wide fingertips stroking at the curled hair at the back of his neck.
No words, then. Instead he sucked in a long breath, the touch stirring him more than anything else they'd done since Denmark had joined him in bed. A flush crept over his cheeks and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. Not that it mattered so much. Not at a time like this.
Taking him in through half-closed eyes, Norway couldn't help noticing the softness in Denmark's expression. The light wasn't bright enough to see the sky-clear blueness of his eyes, but the familiar warmth, he could see that.
And he was holding his tongue. For once.
Strong, gentle fingers curled around his hair. Slipped the strands through them. Slow and easy, stroking them just as he might stroke him off, and with the same affection that he saw in his face.
Words still didn't come. Only another gasp, almost inaudible even in the quiet. Nothing else.
After that, Norway couldn't help it. He rocked up against him. Rolled his hips and felt Denmark, cock hard and flush against him, matching his own arousal. Already, after hardly anything. Already, without being touched. Without so much as putting hands on each other.
As Denmark met him, grinding down and responding with a low groan, Norway allowed himself to make noise, barely-there, soft.
He let his hands splay over Denmark's shoulders, fingers spread wide. Tried to compose himself. A little. At least.
With Denmark stroking at his hair like that, it wasn't easy.
"Ought to stop messing around if you want somethin' more out've this," Norway muttered. The words came out more breathily than he meant them to.
"Well!" Denmark made a soft sound as if thinking. As if he needed to consider it. He gave Norway's hair a gentle tug. "Dunno' about that. Could keep going like this."
Though he couldn't see it, Norway knew he was grinning.
For a moment, he gave it some thought himself. Held back a groan and considered it. The idea of letting Denmark slowly grind him into the mattress was not unappealing, especially if he kept touching his hair like that.
But. Still.
There were other things they both wanted tonight.
"No," Norway said. "Rather you got on with it."
It wasn't the best way to put it, but at least it was clear.
He didn't need to say anything else. Denmark caught his lips in another of those sloppy, surprisingly tender kisses. And Norway held him, giving up the pretence of silence as soon as the noise could be muffled, moaning open-mouthed into the kiss while those long fingers stroked and stroked.
Once again, he could tell that Denmark was trying. Trying hard. He knew it by how measured his actions were, by the slow and careful way he slipped Norway's hair through his fingers.
When they'd first become intimate, all those years ago, it had been different. Denmark tended to forget himself. Was as energetic in bed as he was out of it. And while that wasn't bad, exactly, what that usually led to was a tendency to be a bit rushed, a bit heavy-handed. An eagerness that was too much of everything, sometimes overwhelming in all the wrong ways.
At least he'd managed to read the atmosphere now, Norway thought, sighing into the kiss as he swept his fingertips up to cup Denmark's face.
Denmark pulled away. Eventually. He still had that smile on his face, broad and warm. Norway looked up at him. Took in the way the warm, dim light played on his face, on his hair. Didn't say anything – but he didn't have to.
As Denmark reached toward the bedside table, Norway sighed again. Let himself sink into the mattress once more. Sprawled out a bit. Waited. Stared up at the ceiling through half-closed eyes.
The sensation of Denmark stroking his hair had left him feeling hazy and dazed. He still felt relaxed and warm, wanting more. He ached for him – but this was Denmark, and he didn't have to wait long. It was a matter of moments before Denmark was over him again, kissing him again, mouth soft and gentle and probably halfway to bruised by now.
Those large hands caressed his thighs. Pushed them further apart.
The kiss moved to Norway's throat, and Denmark dipped a hand low.
Norway's eyes fluttered shut.
Slow. Denmark took care easing into him, slick pair of fingers pressing gently then sliding. Not like their first tries at it, when he'd been heavy-handed and rushed, shoving in too quick in his eagerness, with a rough edge that was frankly uncomfortable. Norway had been quick to put at stop to that, correcting him until he got it right.
Maybe it was on account of how relaxed Norway was. Maybe that was why the going was so easy. Or maybe, like he had been all through this evening, Denmark was just taking care.
It didn't matter, Norway decided as he tilted his head back against the pillow. Arched a bit so Denmark could brush those gentle kisses down along his neck. The reasons weren't important. All that mattered was that it felt good.
Slowly, slowly. Those big fingers sliding, carefully over the knuckles, slow. Slow.
He sucked in a breath as Denmark eased in another. Shut his eyes tight. His hands came up to grip at Denmark's shoulders – not that it hurt, because it didn't, but to have something to hold on to. It was a lot. Even with Denmark going slowly, it was a lot. But Norway didn't mind.
Slowly, still. Easing in with care, fingers slightly curved, sliding in deep. Then withdrawing, with that same maddening slowness. And there was Denmark's mouth, soft against his clavicle. His free hand resting at Norway's hip. And the other one... well.
Norway knew Denmark's hands. Knew those long fingers. Knew exactly what was inside of him.
The thought of it made him want to touch himself. He decided against it, clinging instead. Better to wait, he decided. Draw it out.
"How're you doin' with this?" Denmark's voice by his ear. As quiet as he was capable of being, and as gentle, words punctuated by the careful movement of his hands. "Is this enough, y'think?"
The way he phrased it made Norway pause. Let his mind wander a little.
It settled on something he had thought on now and then, but never seriously considered. The sensation of those thick fingers inside of him was so much as it was; but it could be more.
What if....
He swept a hand up to cup the back of Denmark's head. Stroked at his hair a little. Tried to think of how to put it. How to phrase the idea that had popped into his mind. Bit at his lip to stop himself from moaning from the thought of it – and from the sensation of Denmark slipping his fingers deep once again.
"What if you just..." Norway licked his lower lip. Tried to steady himself enough to say it. His words were low and breathy and not as articulate as he wanted them to be. "What if you kept going?"
"Huh?" Denmark's hand stilled. "Come again?"
"I mean...." Norway tried, once again, to find the right words. He settled for rolling his hips to take him in. As if to make a point. As if to punctuate what he would say next. "I want you to fit the rest of your fingers in me."
"You want me to do what?"
Norway blinked his eyes open. "What?"
Denmark lifted his head. Propped himself up a bit so they could look each other in the face. He'd blanched like a pot of cabbage, staring at Norway with eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Nor, I don't... You're jokin', right?
"I'm not."
"But —"
Well. This wasn't what he'd had in mind. Norway bit at his lower lip. "If you don't want to, 's fine. We can just —"
"No, I mean..." Denmark stopped. He shook his head, flushing, looking at a loss for words. "Don't seem safe, y'know? 'S... it's too much."
"I ain't so sure about that," Norway murmured. He brushed his thumb along Denmark's cheek, wondering.
Somehow, even with the protests, Denmark almost looked like he was halfway considering it.
It seemed as if those words got through to him, or maybe it was the touch, as the blush on Denmark's face deepened under Norway's hands. "But..." A deep breath. His next words were almost a whisper. "Just. 'Mean. I don't want to hurt you." Yet even as he spoke, he was sliding his fingers inside Norway again.
"I see." So that was it, Norway thought. He should have guessed. For a moment he thought that over, still stroking at Denmark's face, considering it.
Well.
There was one way to take care of it. "Come here, will you?" Norway murmured.
Denmark knew him well enough to know what that meant.
The kiss was soft. Norway kept it tender, gentle, drawing it out. He felt more than heard the low sound Denmark muffled against his mouth.
When they broke it, Norway stayed close, gripping at Denmark's hair to keep him where he was. "There's a reason I wouldn't go asking anyone else to do this," he whispered, letting his lips brush against Denmark's ear. He heard a sharp intake of breath, felt him shiver.
"Yeah?"
"Mmhm." A pause. Just to let him think on it. Let him think that it's admitting to something intimate, Norway thought. Even if it's something he should know damn well by now. "It's on account of knowing that you'd wouldn't hurt me."
"I see."
"That's right." At least, Norway thought, not like this. Not with this kind of thing. Not with something like this, and not on purpose. He brushed a kiss to his cheek to punctuate it before continuing, resting back to look at him. "Now. Seein's we both know you'd stop if I told you to. Will you do this for me?"
No response, not a first. Denmark was quiet. But that pale, wide-eyed look from earlier was gone, and Norway didn't have to wait long before he nodded, drawing in a deep, shivering breath. "...Reckon we're going to need more slick," he muttered.
And at that, Norway allowed himself a smile. "Reckon so."
They drew apart to tend to that. Denmark eased his fingers out of him, reaching for the jar on the bedside table to add more. He said nothing, and Norway didn't either.
Norway waited. Sprawled out a bit. Thought for a moment, then reached for a pillow. Slid it under his hips, lifting them. To make the going easier, he told himself as he spread his legs wide and relaxed into the mattress and moved a hand down to stroke himself.
And other reasons, he thought as he looked over to Denmark, watching him slick up his entire hand. Give him something to look at. A better view. Why not.
Denmark caught his gaze. Flashed one of those familiar smiles, more confident now that they'd had a word on it. "Ready, are ya'?"
"Yes. Are you?"
"...Yeah."
As Denmark moved to settle himself between Norway's legs, Norway watched him. It didn't escape him that Denmark's eyes widened a bit as he looked at him, that smile becoming a grin. Norway thought on it, turning the sight over in his mind. Tried to imagine what he might look like to him. His cock, flushed and hard against his belly. His legs spread wide for him, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress, leaving him shamelessly open to Denmark's wandering eyes. The slickness still there from before.
Well, Norway thought, feeling heat creep up over his cheeks. In that case. He wouldn't begrudge him a grin or two. "Go ahead, then." He barely breathed the words. "Just... take it easy."
And he did take it easy. There was care in the way Denmark slid his fingers into him. After what they had done only moments earlier, it was hardly anything to slip them into him again, relaxed as he was, but Denmark took his time.
Only moments ago, it had felt like so much. But when he finally had three in him again, Norway found that it wasn't all that overwhelming at all; only full and thick and good. Or maybe, he thought, that was only on account of knowing what would come next. He rocked against Denmark's hand, matching his movement. Heard him suck in a breath. Watched him through half-lidded eyes and saw just where Denmark was staring.
It stood to reason, Norway thought. Usually wasn't in a position to look at that, was he. But getting a reaction like that was surprising.
Well.
"Keep going," Norway whispered. In the quiet of the room, his voice was more uneven than it had any right to be.
Denmark's eyes lifted to meet his. "You're sure, now?"
"Yes."
He watched. Denmark's lips parted as if he might have something to say to that. As if he might object. That won't do, Norway thought. He moved again, rolling his hips to take him in deeper, as if to prove that he could.
It worked. Denmark swore, and turned his attention where Norway wanted it.
What followed made him suck in a breath. Even with the care Denmark took, it was a lot. But not too much. Norway's hands dropped to grip the sheets, and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from making noise.
Slow. Slow. Careful.
It didn't hurt.
Another long, slow breath. No, it didn't hurt. He was still warm from before, relaxed from before, and though Denmark's fingers were thick, it wasn't too much. It wasn't. Not yet.
He slid in, and then stopped.
"Go deeper," Norway breathed, staring upward with his eyes barely cracked open. He felt dazed, heated. Though he wasn't sure how much it was, how deep those fingers had reached, he could guess. Imagined it. To the base of the fingers. Before the knuckles. That was where he'd stopped. "Just... keep going."
"But —"
"Belay that. You won't hurt me."
Soft, unsteady words. He managed to get them out somehow. It didn't matter. Before he'd even finished saying them, Denmark did as he was told.
The lack of protest was surprising, but the gentleness wasn't.
Slow, slow. Easing in further, and then stopping. Norway sucked in a breath - if he had thought what it had been before was a lot, this was something else entirely.
He felt so full. Though he couldn't see it, he could imagine it. Four. Those long fingers, those thick knuckles. Almost the whole of Denmark's hand inside of him, as deep as the crook of his thumb, stretching him wide.
It was so much.
Easing out, then in again, full and deep. Long, gentle fingers curving slightly as they went. Norway's breath hitched at the way it felt, and he thought about telling him to just keep doing that, to just go on and do that and don't stop with it.
It would be quite a thing if he told him to do that, he thought. If he did nothing but grab at the bed sheets while Denmark kept going. If he had Denmark work him like this until he came without being touched. Wouldn't it.
He considered it.
But the curiosity lingered in his mind, curled up and waiting. What about the rest?
"Ought to keep going," Norway whispered. "Said you would, didn't you."
He heard him take a long, slow breath. "Did say that, didn't I."
Norway felt the fingers ease out of him slowly, slowly. Not completely. Just enough. He felt the pad of Denmark's thumb brush against the flesh at his asshole, already stretched so far. Then nothing else.
Was Denmark teasing him, or just hesitant?
He looked over at him. Took in the sight of him, there in the candle light, framed by the pale shapes of Norway's thighs. Denmark's head was ducked. His cheeks were flushed. After a moment, he lifted his gaze, meeting Norway's eyes.
"You're sure, now?"
So he's hesitating, then, Norway thought. What to say? He didn't want him to stop. "Just... I want you to try it, thanks." He swept his tongue over his lower lip, trying to decide how to put it, feeling impatient and heady. The words weren't coming easily, somehow, even if they normally would. "Would you do this for me, then."
It wasn't a please, not quite. He'd never say that and they both knew it. But it served the purpose all the same, and he could tell by the look on Denmark's face that he knew how he meant it. The soft sound that slipped past Denmark's lips wasn't a word. Almost a groan.
A pause, agonizingly long. Slick, wet sounds as he coated what was left. Then a press, slow, careful, as Denmark eased his thumb into him.
Norway bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying out.
He breathed deeply, slowly. Breathed and relaxed into the warmth of the bed and the candlelight, as much as he could, because that would be the only way to do this. Let his eyelids fall partly shut, watching Denmark through slits. The way he looked between Norway's legs was quite a sight, the expression on his face somewhere between amazed and aroused. Wide-eyed, but not in the same way he'd been as before, when Norway had suggested this. Not in the same way at all.
It was so much. Almost too much. It didn't hurt, it didn't. But it was just this short of being too much. Norway knew how wide he was stretched. Knew how full he was. Knew that by all rights his body wasn't meant for this, no matter how good it felt.
For a second, Norway wondered — if he were human, would they be able to do this? Was the only reason that they could manage it on account of his body's tolerance beyond what human beings could endure?
Or it could be, whispered a voice in the back of his mind, that it's on account of the care taken by the person attached to that hand. The one those fingers belonged to. The one that Norway had told, only moments ago, was the only one he would trust with something like this. How about that?
The thought made him moan, and he couldn't be bothered to bite the sound back. Unable to stop himself, he dipped his hand between his legs. Curled his fingers around his cock. Stroked himself at the very thought of it, as Denmark's hand sank deep into him.
He heard something. Denmark's voice. A soft curse, muttered under his breath, low and rough and amazed.
"What?" Norway gasped, surprised that he managed to get the word out. He blinked his eyes open to look at him. Watched his face.
"Jesus, Nor..." Denmark shook his head, unable to say whatever it was.
He wasn't looking at him; his gaze was on something down below.
Whatever Denmark was looking at, Norway couldn't see it. But he could guess. "Let me..."
Norway let his hand drift downward. Down along his cock, his balls, and dipping lower, until his fingertips brushed against Denmark's wrist. Then inward, until they met not the heel of a broad, familiar palm, but the tight ring of muscle stretched so impossibly wide over Denmark's fist.
Norway swore under his breath. The thick, heavy, tight sensation of being incredibly full was one thing; but to touch it and know just what was inside of him was another thing entirely. How in hell....
Something soft brushed the back of his hand.
Denmark. Denmark, with his head dipped low. Denmark, glancing up toward him from between his legs. Denmark, lowering his head to kiss at the back of his hand again, just once.
Norway felt more than heard the oath pass his lips. He bit down hard on his lower lip to stop himself from saying anything else. Stared, watching in his hazy, aroused state as Denmark kissed at him again. A press of warm mouth against his wrist. Then the soft brush of lips against his thigh, making him shudder.
He ached. And it wasn't on account of what was inside of him. Or not only that, at least.
"You ought to..." His words died, replaced by a soft moan as Denmark moved his hand a fraction deeper.
"Ought to what?" Denmark asked, as if he didn't already know. His other hand had dropped low, and it took no effort to guess where it was. Where it had been for a while, probably. He had, after all, been waiting. Had been so good as to indulge Norway with this.
Norway swallowed harshly. "Ought to have done with this." He brushed his fingertips over Denmark's wrist again. "Seein's you did what I was after. I —" A pause. How to put it? "I just want you in me now." The other words came softer, slower, and for a moment he wasn't sure if they were audible.
But Denmark must have heard. He said nothing, but those familiar eyes flickered up to him again, and he nodded before turning his attention down below once more. Didn't cease staring as he drew his hand out — agonizingly slowly.
Impatient though Norway was, he couldn't blame him for taking his time.
A few long, slow, shuddering breaths, until finally it was out and the tension eased and he was left feeling dazed and empty. He could hear Denmark beside him, reaching to the bedside table for a cloth to wipe his hand down. Could hear, once again, the sound of him slicking himself up.
And then he was over him. Large form above him, mouth crashing against his as Denmark dipped his head to kiss him, groaning as he guided his cock inside of him.
Norway put aside any desire to restrain himself. Kissed him hard and open-mouthed. Gasped as he felt Denmark's broad palm sliding to cradle his head tenderly, long fingers coiling in his hair.
Compared to what had been in him before, this came easily. He felt unfathomably loose, and Norway groaned as Denmark's cock slid into him, slick and deep. He put aside any thought of touching himself and slid his arms around Denmark's shoulders. Wrapped his legs around him as if, by doing that, he could draw him in deeper, no matter if he was already buried inside him to the hilt.
It was nothing to lose himself in the sensation of Denmark's mouth on his, the way he stroked his hair, the way Denmark fit into him, sweet and deep. By the frantic way that Denmark rutted into him, Norway could guess that he'd been driving himself mad with trying to stay patient while he'd worked at indulging Norway with that agonizing slowness.
Well, Norway thought, to the extent that he could think at all. How about that.
He broke from Denmark's lips, gasping. Tried to hold his tongue and keep back the noise, but between the sensation of his hair tangled in Denmark's fingers and the thick sweet shape of his cock inside of him, it was too much to stay silent. The sounds slipped out, hisses and moans and curses, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that.
It didn't matter, Norway decided.
All of it was drowned out by Denmark, the low deep groans he made as he thrust into him. And the words, soft and feverish. Norway's name, over and over and over.
That was it, somehow. The way Denmark filled him, and the desperate sound of his name on his lips. That was all it took to bring him over, moaning as he rolled his hips upward to take him in.
It wasn't long after that. He kept moving with him, rocking in time with Denmark's thrusts. Tilting his head to whisper to him, he gave him breathy nothings to keep him going. He hardly needed to do more than graze his lips against Denmark's ear to bring him over and finish him off.
They stayed together for a while after that. Norway pressed his face to Denmark's neck, trying to steady himself as he came down from the orgasm. Denmark's breath was ragged and hot against his throat. He was still on top of him, over him, inside him, broad form pressing down on Norway, keeping him pinned flat to the mattress.
Norway kept his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around him. For a moment. Just a moment. Then, breathing deeply, he rested his head back against the pillow. "Get off've me, you," he murmured, letting his limbs fall. "You're heavy."
Denmark moved off of him with a tired groan, only to immediately curl up next to him after that. His body was warm, too warm, and Norway thought of nudging him away, but didn't.
Instead, he turned his head a little. Met the kiss Denmark offered him with one of his own. Soft this time, with a tenderness that Norway was grateful for. The same gentleness that Denmark had kept all through this evening; the same care that had driven Norway to ask him to go so far in the first place.
Norway nestled against him, and stilled.
He didn't want to move. So he didn't object to the way Denmark coiled an arm around him, or the large hand brushing his sweat-slick hair out of his face. But the state he was in didn't escape him. The state they were both in. Covered in sweat, to say nothing of the semen splashed against his stomach, nor the mess between his legs. "Going to have to get cleaned up in a bit," Norway muttered, even though the very thought of getting up from the bed made him feel sore.
"Yeah." A long, deep sigh. A kiss to his temple. Reluctant.
Norway thought of warm water and scented soap. "All for nothing, that bath," he said, trailing his fingers along Denmark's shoulder. "Guess we did this backward." A bit of a waste.
A laugh, quiet. "Guess so." And another kiss, grazing along his cheek. "Could have another drawn for ya'."
"For both've us, you mean."
"'Course, 'course."
He could feel the warmth in Denmark's cheeks. Norway considered commenting on it. Decided against it. He didn't move, either, content to stay as he was — nestled against him, curled close to that familiar form.
They could deal with the mess later. In a while. It could wait.
I wouldn't ask anyone else to do this. The words Norway had whispered to Denmark earlier came back to him, slipping through Norway's mind. It had been more than he'd normally dare say. Did Denmark understand what he'd meant by it? It had been about more than what they were doing tonight. It hadn't only been a way to get what he wanted.
Warm lips brushed against his cheek.
He remembered the light contact from before, Denmark's lips soft against his hand. The way he looked there, in the candlelight, in that moment before when the two of them had been more intimate than ever.
Norway tilted his head and caught Denmark's mouth in a kiss.
Maybe he did understand.
Maybe he did.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Norway
Rating: 18+ [Sex, haircurl play, fisting]
Length: 6.3k
Summary: Even after all this time, they still manage to surprise one another.
Other: Set toward the end of the 1780s. Written for Hetalia Writers Discord's OTP event. Prompts used: "Firsts" + "Do you trust me?"
Title comes from Olav Hauge's "I pause beneath the old oak one rainy day".
The leaves have taken to falling
The room glowed with warm candlelight.
Norway fell back onto the mattress, sank into the softness, and watched Denmark remove his clothing.
He felt flushed, but he knew it was from the warm bath he'd had not long before. It wasn't on account of anything else.
In that moment, he would have lost himself in that mattress if he could.
With half-open eyes, he watched him. Fabric slipping off in the dim light. He was fumbling with the fastenings, big hands clumsy, and whether it was on account of lack of grace or because he was eager to join him, Norway was uncertain.
A glance toward the bed. Denmark knew Norway was watching him. Caught sight of him looking.
Norway didn't look away.
Denmark grinned. Looked for half a second like he might say something, then thought better of it, and went back to getting himself out of his clothes.
He's learning, Norway thought as he closed his eyes. Took him long enough.
The bed sank beneath the added weight as Denmark slipped on to join him, and seconds later Norway felt that mouth cover his own in a full, hard kiss. He took it willingly, lips parted. Let him do it.
As he reached up to sweep his fingers through Denmark's hair, Norway sighed against his mouth.
It had been a while since they'd had this.
He had been up north, farther than usual, spending time in his most northern reaches. Trondheim at the beginning. Then Tromsø. Then further. Vardø. Business during the summer months, that was all. Catching up with his northernmost neighbour, talking plain over the matter of now-legitimate trade routes that had always existed.
And time away led to fondness, or at least something like it. Even if it was Denmark. Even if it hadn't been that long of a time since they'd last been together, not considering the span of their lives. Even if it was only an ache for the company of someone familiar, someone he understood.
The northern nights had been bright and warm, but he'd missed the feeling of those broad hands on him.
Now here he was again. South, now, with summer's end. In Denmark's capital. In Denmark's bed. And there was no doubt that soon, Norway would have quite enough of this place, of the sheer Danishness of it all, of the people and the noise and of too close company.
But for the moment, he felt warm, and comfortable, and almost drunkenly relaxed. He welcomed Denmark's weight on him. Sprawled out underneath him as he returned his deep open-mouthed kisses.
Over-eager, as usual. But slow. Tender. Maybe he really was trying. It seemed like it. Denmark still hadn't quite figured out where the line was, when he was pushing too far, when things were too much. Norway knew that Denmark thought that sometimes what Norway wanted and liked was confusing. As if he couldn't follow the ebb and flow of Norway's moods, couldn't read the signals he made even if he didn't come out and say it.
But he was trying. And that was good. Norway kissed him and let out a soft and approving sound as he felt Denmark slip his hand underneath his head to cradle it gently. In that moment, he could relax into his arms with ease and let him do anything, anything at all. Go ahead with whatever he wanted. It wasn't as if they both didn't feel the same way.
They broke the kiss. Eventually. And Denmark moved to sink next to him rather than over him, the better to hold him close. The better to stroke at his hair, his cheek, his mouth, thumb brushing over his lower lip.
Norway turned his head and grazed a kiss to his palm. Let his mouth linger there. Nuzzled for a moment into his hand. It was more affection than he'd usually show, but for tonight, the mood was right for it.
Denmark stroked his cheek again, and then moved to continue sliding his fingers through Norway's hair. Taking his time with this, isn't he, Norway thought. And when Norway considered it, he realized that the gestures were not only like someone taking care, but like someone hesitating, afraid to move too quickly.
"I know what you're after," Norway said. "And you can have it, long's you go easy." It wasn't, perhaps, the most inviting way to put it, but he kept his tone soft and hoped Denmark would understand how he meant it.
There was a pause. As if there was something Denmark wanted to say, but he didn't know how to put it, and for once he was going to think it over before speaking. Then, his lips brushing Norway's ear, he whispered, "I missed you, y'know."
Norway stared upward for a while, digesting this.
It was something that Denmark had already mentioned at least three times that day. But there was something about the way he said it now, in the warmth of his bed, in the low light, that made it different.
Norway parted his lips. Thought about speaking. Thought better of it. Then thought again. He knew Denmark was waiting for something, could feel the anticipation in his silence.
"I see."
Then nothing else. Norway waited, wondering if Denmark had anything to say to that. But there was that silence again, a silence that almost vibrated from the effort to keep words in.
Well, Norway thought.
"Come closer, will you," he murmured, finally turning his head to look at him. Once again, he kept his words soft, and reached out to him as if to make a point of it.
A flicker of surprise, which shouldn't have been surprise at all, and then a smile spread over Denmark's lips. "Yes, sir!" he said, the words almost a laugh as he moved to kiss him again.
Norway shut him up before he could say anything else. Not that he minded, exactly. In fact, the title, that word, sir, sent a thrill of warmth trailing through him, mixing with the bath's lingering heat. He liked it.
But he liked kissing Denmark more than he liked talking. Better to pull him close, to sink his fingers into that coarse hair. To let the heat of his body add to his own.
It wasn't that he had missed him. It was only....
Well. It was what it was.
Denmark's hand moved. His fingertips slid down Norway's spine until his hand rested at the small of his back, drawing him close. Closer. Holding him there. Warm, grounded, familiar.
He'd been tired when he came here, and Denmark made him feel more tired still. But Norway had meant it when he'd said that whatever he was after, he could have it.
It didn't take much to encourage him. Norway kissed him. Kept his mouth soft against Denmark's lips. Stroked at his hair, let his fingers slide through that mess, knowing that he loved the way it felt. A quiet, muffled moan against his lips was just the effect he wanted.
He pulled Denmark on top of him again.
There was something good about being arranged that way. His back pressed to the mattress. Sprawled out under that large, warm form on top of him. Denmark's hand, still cradling his head, the gesture more considerate than most might expect of him.
They broke the kiss. Denmark dipped his head to Norway's throat, nuzzling and kissing there, his lips damp.
Norway closed his eyes. Trailed his fingertips, letting them sprawl over those broad shoulders, slide down Denmark's back. He knew every inch of him, every scrap of coast, every landmark, but he touched him as if exploring him again.
There was a soft sound against his neck, a heavy intake of air that made a smile tug at Norway's lips. To think, even after all this time, little more than a touch could get him worked up. He felt a shiver. The slightest tremor under his fingertips. And the rest... well.
He rocked up against him a little. The smile broadened a bit as he felt his reaction. The way Denmark's hips jerked down against him. The way his thighs trembled as Norway coiled his legs around him. Firm already, and they'd hardly done a thing.
The kisses at his throat were sloppy and damp. But they were heartfelt, and tender, and Norway couldn't help but let Denmark do it. Let him lavish attention on him, soak in the sensation that made his breath catch. Why the hell not.
I missed you, he'd said. Through all those times he'd heard it that day, Norway had thought it had been exaggeration. The usual too-much of everything Denmark did or said. But.
Maybe it hadn't been all talk.
Lips to his mouth again. Soft, slippery, indelicate kisses, until Denmark pulled away and Norway blinked his eyes open to look at him.
Denmark had bracketed one arm to balance himself, messy hair falling in his face a bit as he looked downward. Cheeks far too flushed already, and that smile on his face broad as always. Somehow, in the candle light, it was a charming look on him.
Perhaps, Norway thought, the warmth he felt couldn't be blamed on the bath alone. Or the way it had felt to have those lips against his pulse. Or the press of Denmark's hip against his cock. Not that he would say it. He didn't want to think about it. But there it was.
"Now. What's on your mind, then." The words were thick in his mouth.
"Oh, nothin'."
Norway bit back a comment at that. Usually, he wouldn't. But he could feel Denmark's fingers moving beneath his head to brush at the soft curls at the base of his neck. "Oh?" he said, even as he tilted his head a bit to let him do it.
"Just thinking. You looked tired before. How're you doing now?"
It was no wonder that Norway had looked it, but that Denmark had noticed – now, that surprised him. It stood to reason that after travel, and getting here, and everything else, he'd feel dead on his feet. But Denmark could be oblivious at the best of times. He wondered what else he'd noticed. "Not tired now," Norway said. "Not in the same way, anyhow." Relaxed, he thought, that's all. Paused, then added, "The bath was nice."
"Yeah?" The smile widened.
"Yes."
"That's good." Denmark dipped his head to kiss at Norway's cheek. "You smell nice."
There had been scented soap. Lavender. Fancy. Expensive. Much too frivolous, Norway had thought, even as he'd indulged himself with it.
Maybe it had been Denmark's idea.
Norway parted his lips to ask about it. Before he could speak, Denmark's hand finally found the sensitive spot he had been searching for, wide fingertips stroking at the curled hair at the back of his neck.
No words, then. Instead he sucked in a long breath, the touch stirring him more than anything else they'd done since Denmark had joined him in bed. A flush crept over his cheeks and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. Not that it mattered so much. Not at a time like this.
Taking him in through half-closed eyes, Norway couldn't help noticing the softness in Denmark's expression. The light wasn't bright enough to see the sky-clear blueness of his eyes, but the familiar warmth, he could see that.
And he was holding his tongue. For once.
Strong, gentle fingers curled around his hair. Slipped the strands through them. Slow and easy, stroking them just as he might stroke him off, and with the same affection that he saw in his face.
Words still didn't come. Only another gasp, almost inaudible even in the quiet. Nothing else.
After that, Norway couldn't help it. He rocked up against him. Rolled his hips and felt Denmark, cock hard and flush against him, matching his own arousal. Already, after hardly anything. Already, without being touched. Without so much as putting hands on each other.
As Denmark met him, grinding down and responding with a low groan, Norway allowed himself to make noise, barely-there, soft.
He let his hands splay over Denmark's shoulders, fingers spread wide. Tried to compose himself. A little. At least.
With Denmark stroking at his hair like that, it wasn't easy.
"Ought to stop messing around if you want somethin' more out've this," Norway muttered. The words came out more breathily than he meant them to.
"Well!" Denmark made a soft sound as if thinking. As if he needed to consider it. He gave Norway's hair a gentle tug. "Dunno' about that. Could keep going like this."
Though he couldn't see it, Norway knew he was grinning.
For a moment, he gave it some thought himself. Held back a groan and considered it. The idea of letting Denmark slowly grind him into the mattress was not unappealing, especially if he kept touching his hair like that.
But. Still.
There were other things they both wanted tonight.
"No," Norway said. "Rather you got on with it."
It wasn't the best way to put it, but at least it was clear.
He didn't need to say anything else. Denmark caught his lips in another of those sloppy, surprisingly tender kisses. And Norway held him, giving up the pretence of silence as soon as the noise could be muffled, moaning open-mouthed into the kiss while those long fingers stroked and stroked.
Once again, he could tell that Denmark was trying. Trying hard. He knew it by how measured his actions were, by the slow and careful way he slipped Norway's hair through his fingers.
When they'd first become intimate, all those years ago, it had been different. Denmark tended to forget himself. Was as energetic in bed as he was out of it. And while that wasn't bad, exactly, what that usually led to was a tendency to be a bit rushed, a bit heavy-handed. An eagerness that was too much of everything, sometimes overwhelming in all the wrong ways.
At least he'd managed to read the atmosphere now, Norway thought, sighing into the kiss as he swept his fingertips up to cup Denmark's face.
Denmark pulled away. Eventually. He still had that smile on his face, broad and warm. Norway looked up at him. Took in the way the warm, dim light played on his face, on his hair. Didn't say anything – but he didn't have to.
As Denmark reached toward the bedside table, Norway sighed again. Let himself sink into the mattress once more. Sprawled out a bit. Waited. Stared up at the ceiling through half-closed eyes.
The sensation of Denmark stroking his hair had left him feeling hazy and dazed. He still felt relaxed and warm, wanting more. He ached for him – but this was Denmark, and he didn't have to wait long. It was a matter of moments before Denmark was over him again, kissing him again, mouth soft and gentle and probably halfway to bruised by now.
Those large hands caressed his thighs. Pushed them further apart.
The kiss moved to Norway's throat, and Denmark dipped a hand low.
Norway's eyes fluttered shut.
Slow. Denmark took care easing into him, slick pair of fingers pressing gently then sliding. Not like their first tries at it, when he'd been heavy-handed and rushed, shoving in too quick in his eagerness, with a rough edge that was frankly uncomfortable. Norway had been quick to put at stop to that, correcting him until he got it right.
Maybe it was on account of how relaxed Norway was. Maybe that was why the going was so easy. Or maybe, like he had been all through this evening, Denmark was just taking care.
It didn't matter, Norway decided as he tilted his head back against the pillow. Arched a bit so Denmark could brush those gentle kisses down along his neck. The reasons weren't important. All that mattered was that it felt good.
Slowly, slowly. Those big fingers sliding, carefully over the knuckles, slow. Slow.
He sucked in a breath as Denmark eased in another. Shut his eyes tight. His hands came up to grip at Denmark's shoulders – not that it hurt, because it didn't, but to have something to hold on to. It was a lot. Even with Denmark going slowly, it was a lot. But Norway didn't mind.
Slowly, still. Easing in with care, fingers slightly curved, sliding in deep. Then withdrawing, with that same maddening slowness. And there was Denmark's mouth, soft against his clavicle. His free hand resting at Norway's hip. And the other one... well.
Norway knew Denmark's hands. Knew those long fingers. Knew exactly what was inside of him.
The thought of it made him want to touch himself. He decided against it, clinging instead. Better to wait, he decided. Draw it out.
"How're you doin' with this?" Denmark's voice by his ear. As quiet as he was capable of being, and as gentle, words punctuated by the careful movement of his hands. "Is this enough, y'think?"
The way he phrased it made Norway pause. Let his mind wander a little.
It settled on something he had thought on now and then, but never seriously considered. The sensation of those thick fingers inside of him was so much as it was; but it could be more.
What if....
He swept a hand up to cup the back of Denmark's head. Stroked at his hair a little. Tried to think of how to put it. How to phrase the idea that had popped into his mind. Bit at his lip to stop himself from moaning from the thought of it – and from the sensation of Denmark slipping his fingers deep once again.
"What if you just..." Norway licked his lower lip. Tried to steady himself enough to say it. His words were low and breathy and not as articulate as he wanted them to be. "What if you kept going?"
"Huh?" Denmark's hand stilled. "Come again?"
"I mean...." Norway tried, once again, to find the right words. He settled for rolling his hips to take him in. As if to make a point. As if to punctuate what he would say next. "I want you to fit the rest of your fingers in me."
"You want me to do what?"
Norway blinked his eyes open. "What?"
Denmark lifted his head. Propped himself up a bit so they could look each other in the face. He'd blanched like a pot of cabbage, staring at Norway with eyes as wide as dinner plates. "Nor, I don't... You're jokin', right?
"I'm not."
"But —"
Well. This wasn't what he'd had in mind. Norway bit at his lower lip. "If you don't want to, 's fine. We can just —"
"No, I mean..." Denmark stopped. He shook his head, flushing, looking at a loss for words. "Don't seem safe, y'know? 'S... it's too much."
"I ain't so sure about that," Norway murmured. He brushed his thumb along Denmark's cheek, wondering.
Somehow, even with the protests, Denmark almost looked like he was halfway considering it.
It seemed as if those words got through to him, or maybe it was the touch, as the blush on Denmark's face deepened under Norway's hands. "But..." A deep breath. His next words were almost a whisper. "Just. 'Mean. I don't want to hurt you." Yet even as he spoke, he was sliding his fingers inside Norway again.
"I see." So that was it, Norway thought. He should have guessed. For a moment he thought that over, still stroking at Denmark's face, considering it.
Well.
There was one way to take care of it. "Come here, will you?" Norway murmured.
Denmark knew him well enough to know what that meant.
The kiss was soft. Norway kept it tender, gentle, drawing it out. He felt more than heard the low sound Denmark muffled against his mouth.
When they broke it, Norway stayed close, gripping at Denmark's hair to keep him where he was. "There's a reason I wouldn't go asking anyone else to do this," he whispered, letting his lips brush against Denmark's ear. He heard a sharp intake of breath, felt him shiver.
"Yeah?"
"Mmhm." A pause. Just to let him think on it. Let him think that it's admitting to something intimate, Norway thought. Even if it's something he should know damn well by now. "It's on account of knowing that you'd wouldn't hurt me."
"I see."
"That's right." At least, Norway thought, not like this. Not with this kind of thing. Not with something like this, and not on purpose. He brushed a kiss to his cheek to punctuate it before continuing, resting back to look at him. "Now. Seein's we both know you'd stop if I told you to. Will you do this for me?"
No response, not a first. Denmark was quiet. But that pale, wide-eyed look from earlier was gone, and Norway didn't have to wait long before he nodded, drawing in a deep, shivering breath. "...Reckon we're going to need more slick," he muttered.
And at that, Norway allowed himself a smile. "Reckon so."
They drew apart to tend to that. Denmark eased his fingers out of him, reaching for the jar on the bedside table to add more. He said nothing, and Norway didn't either.
Norway waited. Sprawled out a bit. Thought for a moment, then reached for a pillow. Slid it under his hips, lifting them. To make the going easier, he told himself as he spread his legs wide and relaxed into the mattress and moved a hand down to stroke himself.
And other reasons, he thought as he looked over to Denmark, watching him slick up his entire hand. Give him something to look at. A better view. Why not.
Denmark caught his gaze. Flashed one of those familiar smiles, more confident now that they'd had a word on it. "Ready, are ya'?"
"Yes. Are you?"
"...Yeah."
As Denmark moved to settle himself between Norway's legs, Norway watched him. It didn't escape him that Denmark's eyes widened a bit as he looked at him, that smile becoming a grin. Norway thought on it, turning the sight over in his mind. Tried to imagine what he might look like to him. His cock, flushed and hard against his belly. His legs spread wide for him, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress, leaving him shamelessly open to Denmark's wandering eyes. The slickness still there from before.
Well, Norway thought, feeling heat creep up over his cheeks. In that case. He wouldn't begrudge him a grin or two. "Go ahead, then." He barely breathed the words. "Just... take it easy."
And he did take it easy. There was care in the way Denmark slid his fingers into him. After what they had done only moments earlier, it was hardly anything to slip them into him again, relaxed as he was, but Denmark took his time.
Only moments ago, it had felt like so much. But when he finally had three in him again, Norway found that it wasn't all that overwhelming at all; only full and thick and good. Or maybe, he thought, that was only on account of knowing what would come next. He rocked against Denmark's hand, matching his movement. Heard him suck in a breath. Watched him through half-lidded eyes and saw just where Denmark was staring.
It stood to reason, Norway thought. Usually wasn't in a position to look at that, was he. But getting a reaction like that was surprising.
Well.
"Keep going," Norway whispered. In the quiet of the room, his voice was more uneven than it had any right to be.
Denmark's eyes lifted to meet his. "You're sure, now?"
"Yes."
He watched. Denmark's lips parted as if he might have something to say to that. As if he might object. That won't do, Norway thought. He moved again, rolling his hips to take him in deeper, as if to prove that he could.
It worked. Denmark swore, and turned his attention where Norway wanted it.
What followed made him suck in a breath. Even with the care Denmark took, it was a lot. But not too much. Norway's hands dropped to grip the sheets, and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from making noise.
Slow. Slow. Careful.
It didn't hurt.
Another long, slow breath. No, it didn't hurt. He was still warm from before, relaxed from before, and though Denmark's fingers were thick, it wasn't too much. It wasn't. Not yet.
He slid in, and then stopped.
"Go deeper," Norway breathed, staring upward with his eyes barely cracked open. He felt dazed, heated. Though he wasn't sure how much it was, how deep those fingers had reached, he could guess. Imagined it. To the base of the fingers. Before the knuckles. That was where he'd stopped. "Just... keep going."
"But —"
"Belay that. You won't hurt me."
Soft, unsteady words. He managed to get them out somehow. It didn't matter. Before he'd even finished saying them, Denmark did as he was told.
The lack of protest was surprising, but the gentleness wasn't.
Slow, slow. Easing in further, and then stopping. Norway sucked in a breath - if he had thought what it had been before was a lot, this was something else entirely.
He felt so full. Though he couldn't see it, he could imagine it. Four. Those long fingers, those thick knuckles. Almost the whole of Denmark's hand inside of him, as deep as the crook of his thumb, stretching him wide.
It was so much.
Easing out, then in again, full and deep. Long, gentle fingers curving slightly as they went. Norway's breath hitched at the way it felt, and he thought about telling him to just keep doing that, to just go on and do that and don't stop with it.
It would be quite a thing if he told him to do that, he thought. If he did nothing but grab at the bed sheets while Denmark kept going. If he had Denmark work him like this until he came without being touched. Wouldn't it.
He considered it.
But the curiosity lingered in his mind, curled up and waiting. What about the rest?
"Ought to keep going," Norway whispered. "Said you would, didn't you."
He heard him take a long, slow breath. "Did say that, didn't I."
Norway felt the fingers ease out of him slowly, slowly. Not completely. Just enough. He felt the pad of Denmark's thumb brush against the flesh at his asshole, already stretched so far. Then nothing else.
Was Denmark teasing him, or just hesitant?
He looked over at him. Took in the sight of him, there in the candle light, framed by the pale shapes of Norway's thighs. Denmark's head was ducked. His cheeks were flushed. After a moment, he lifted his gaze, meeting Norway's eyes.
"You're sure, now?"
So he's hesitating, then, Norway thought. What to say? He didn't want him to stop. "Just... I want you to try it, thanks." He swept his tongue over his lower lip, trying to decide how to put it, feeling impatient and heady. The words weren't coming easily, somehow, even if they normally would. "Would you do this for me, then."
It wasn't a please, not quite. He'd never say that and they both knew it. But it served the purpose all the same, and he could tell by the look on Denmark's face that he knew how he meant it. The soft sound that slipped past Denmark's lips wasn't a word. Almost a groan.
A pause, agonizingly long. Slick, wet sounds as he coated what was left. Then a press, slow, careful, as Denmark eased his thumb into him.
Norway bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying out.
He breathed deeply, slowly. Breathed and relaxed into the warmth of the bed and the candlelight, as much as he could, because that would be the only way to do this. Let his eyelids fall partly shut, watching Denmark through slits. The way he looked between Norway's legs was quite a sight, the expression on his face somewhere between amazed and aroused. Wide-eyed, but not in the same way he'd been as before, when Norway had suggested this. Not in the same way at all.
It was so much. Almost too much. It didn't hurt, it didn't. But it was just this short of being too much. Norway knew how wide he was stretched. Knew how full he was. Knew that by all rights his body wasn't meant for this, no matter how good it felt.
For a second, Norway wondered — if he were human, would they be able to do this? Was the only reason that they could manage it on account of his body's tolerance beyond what human beings could endure?
Or it could be, whispered a voice in the back of his mind, that it's on account of the care taken by the person attached to that hand. The one those fingers belonged to. The one that Norway had told, only moments ago, was the only one he would trust with something like this. How about that?
The thought made him moan, and he couldn't be bothered to bite the sound back. Unable to stop himself, he dipped his hand between his legs. Curled his fingers around his cock. Stroked himself at the very thought of it, as Denmark's hand sank deep into him.
He heard something. Denmark's voice. A soft curse, muttered under his breath, low and rough and amazed.
"What?" Norway gasped, surprised that he managed to get the word out. He blinked his eyes open to look at him. Watched his face.
"Jesus, Nor..." Denmark shook his head, unable to say whatever it was.
He wasn't looking at him; his gaze was on something down below.
Whatever Denmark was looking at, Norway couldn't see it. But he could guess. "Let me..."
Norway let his hand drift downward. Down along his cock, his balls, and dipping lower, until his fingertips brushed against Denmark's wrist. Then inward, until they met not the heel of a broad, familiar palm, but the tight ring of muscle stretched so impossibly wide over Denmark's fist.
Norway swore under his breath. The thick, heavy, tight sensation of being incredibly full was one thing; but to touch it and know just what was inside of him was another thing entirely. How in hell....
Something soft brushed the back of his hand.
Denmark. Denmark, with his head dipped low. Denmark, glancing up toward him from between his legs. Denmark, lowering his head to kiss at the back of his hand again, just once.
Norway felt more than heard the oath pass his lips. He bit down hard on his lower lip to stop himself from saying anything else. Stared, watching in his hazy, aroused state as Denmark kissed at him again. A press of warm mouth against his wrist. Then the soft brush of lips against his thigh, making him shudder.
He ached. And it wasn't on account of what was inside of him. Or not only that, at least.
"You ought to..." His words died, replaced by a soft moan as Denmark moved his hand a fraction deeper.
"Ought to what?" Denmark asked, as if he didn't already know. His other hand had dropped low, and it took no effort to guess where it was. Where it had been for a while, probably. He had, after all, been waiting. Had been so good as to indulge Norway with this.
Norway swallowed harshly. "Ought to have done with this." He brushed his fingertips over Denmark's wrist again. "Seein's you did what I was after. I —" A pause. How to put it? "I just want you in me now." The other words came softer, slower, and for a moment he wasn't sure if they were audible.
But Denmark must have heard. He said nothing, but those familiar eyes flickered up to him again, and he nodded before turning his attention down below once more. Didn't cease staring as he drew his hand out — agonizingly slowly.
Impatient though Norway was, he couldn't blame him for taking his time.
A few long, slow, shuddering breaths, until finally it was out and the tension eased and he was left feeling dazed and empty. He could hear Denmark beside him, reaching to the bedside table for a cloth to wipe his hand down. Could hear, once again, the sound of him slicking himself up.
And then he was over him. Large form above him, mouth crashing against his as Denmark dipped his head to kiss him, groaning as he guided his cock inside of him.
Norway put aside any desire to restrain himself. Kissed him hard and open-mouthed. Gasped as he felt Denmark's broad palm sliding to cradle his head tenderly, long fingers coiling in his hair.
Compared to what had been in him before, this came easily. He felt unfathomably loose, and Norway groaned as Denmark's cock slid into him, slick and deep. He put aside any thought of touching himself and slid his arms around Denmark's shoulders. Wrapped his legs around him as if, by doing that, he could draw him in deeper, no matter if he was already buried inside him to the hilt.
It was nothing to lose himself in the sensation of Denmark's mouth on his, the way he stroked his hair, the way Denmark fit into him, sweet and deep. By the frantic way that Denmark rutted into him, Norway could guess that he'd been driving himself mad with trying to stay patient while he'd worked at indulging Norway with that agonizing slowness.
Well, Norway thought, to the extent that he could think at all. How about that.
He broke from Denmark's lips, gasping. Tried to hold his tongue and keep back the noise, but between the sensation of his hair tangled in Denmark's fingers and the thick sweet shape of his cock inside of him, it was too much to stay silent. The sounds slipped out, hisses and moans and curses, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that.
It didn't matter, Norway decided.
All of it was drowned out by Denmark, the low deep groans he made as he thrust into him. And the words, soft and feverish. Norway's name, over and over and over.
That was it, somehow. The way Denmark filled him, and the desperate sound of his name on his lips. That was all it took to bring him over, moaning as he rolled his hips upward to take him in.
It wasn't long after that. He kept moving with him, rocking in time with Denmark's thrusts. Tilting his head to whisper to him, he gave him breathy nothings to keep him going. He hardly needed to do more than graze his lips against Denmark's ear to bring him over and finish him off.
They stayed together for a while after that. Norway pressed his face to Denmark's neck, trying to steady himself as he came down from the orgasm. Denmark's breath was ragged and hot against his throat. He was still on top of him, over him, inside him, broad form pressing down on Norway, keeping him pinned flat to the mattress.
Norway kept his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around him. For a moment. Just a moment. Then, breathing deeply, he rested his head back against the pillow. "Get off've me, you," he murmured, letting his limbs fall. "You're heavy."
Denmark moved off of him with a tired groan, only to immediately curl up next to him after that. His body was warm, too warm, and Norway thought of nudging him away, but didn't.
Instead, he turned his head a little. Met the kiss Denmark offered him with one of his own. Soft this time, with a tenderness that Norway was grateful for. The same gentleness that Denmark had kept all through this evening; the same care that had driven Norway to ask him to go so far in the first place.
Norway nestled against him, and stilled.
He didn't want to move. So he didn't object to the way Denmark coiled an arm around him, or the large hand brushing his sweat-slick hair out of his face. But the state he was in didn't escape him. The state they were both in. Covered in sweat, to say nothing of the semen splashed against his stomach, nor the mess between his legs. "Going to have to get cleaned up in a bit," Norway muttered, even though the very thought of getting up from the bed made him feel sore.
"Yeah." A long, deep sigh. A kiss to his temple. Reluctant.
Norway thought of warm water and scented soap. "All for nothing, that bath," he said, trailing his fingers along Denmark's shoulder. "Guess we did this backward." A bit of a waste.
A laugh, quiet. "Guess so." And another kiss, grazing along his cheek. "Could have another drawn for ya'."
"For both've us, you mean."
"'Course, 'course."
He could feel the warmth in Denmark's cheeks. Norway considered commenting on it. Decided against it. He didn't move, either, content to stay as he was — nestled against him, curled close to that familiar form.
They could deal with the mess later. In a while. It could wait.
I wouldn't ask anyone else to do this. The words Norway had whispered to Denmark earlier came back to him, slipping through Norway's mind. It had been more than he'd normally dare say. Did Denmark understand what he'd meant by it? It had been about more than what they were doing tonight. It hadn't only been a way to get what he wanted.
Warm lips brushed against his cheek.
He remembered the light contact from before, Denmark's lips soft against his hand. The way he looked there, in the candlelight, in that moment before when the two of them had been more intimate than ever.
Norway tilted his head and caught Denmark's mouth in a kiss.
Maybe he did understand.
Maybe he did.
