![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Circuitous agreement [Sweden/Norway]
Title: Circuitous agreement
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Norway
Rating: 18+. Note: consent issues
Length: 1.1k
Summary: There are many lengths Norway would go to ensure the return of his territory. This meeting, all things considered, is not much.
Other: Set in early 1660, late February/March. The Norwegian province of Trøndelag was one of the areas ceded to Sweden in the 1658 treaty of Roskilde; it was returned after the signing of the treaty of Copenhagen in May 1660.
Written for the APH anon meme impromptu smut-a-thon; prompt was "anything/anywhere, smutty historical". [Original Post]
*Now with illustration by Lumiere! :)
Circuitous agreement
The boat slipped quietly up the fjord.
Norway peered out, his face hidden by his cloak and the scarf wrapped about his face against the cold.
Trondheim rested ahead, waiting. The familiar sight made his insides ache.
Sweden was there.
His spies had brought him word. That he was there. That his side was worried. If there was ever a chance – it was now, Norway knew.
He breathed a spell for safe passage, to avert the eyes, to slip unnoticed past anyone watching.
When the boat docked, nobody noticed a slim man dressed in black among those who disembarked.
He went to him.
Followed those familiar streets, to the address he had been given, passing unnoticed in front of the eyes of the enemy. Still, he kept away from the main streets. Far too many Swedes here, far too many watching eyes, and how could he be sure of how long the spell would hold?
Sweden's lodgings were where he expected them to be. Norway knocked, and entered without waiting for an answer.
That familiar head lifted, stared at him in flickering candlelight. "Wh-!"
Norway put a finger to his lips. "Hold on," he said quietly. "Just here to have a word."
Sweden glowered at him. By the look on his face, it was clear he thought Norway had some nerve. "A word."
"Aye, a word."
He pushed his hood back and pulled the scarf from his face. Went to him, keeping his strides and his gaze as firm and steady as he could.
What could he possibly say?
"Heard they're thinking on renegotiating things. The matters of my territory."
Sweden grunted. "Your territory?"
"Aye, my territory."
"Mine now."
Norway bit his tongue. Sweden was right, true enough, and it made him sick to his gut. "Fine. Reckon so. But the people here have given you nought but trouble while it's been yours. Ain't that right?"
Sweden stared at him. His face looked thin in the flickering candlelight. He was under stress, Norway knew. An empire stretched too far. The death of a king. And two years of resistance in Trøndelag. It'd put anyone out of sorts.
He took a breath and kept going. "You're spending resources here that you need elsewise. Resources that could be put to better use if you didn't have to hang on here." He dared to take a step closer.
For a moment, Sweden was quiet. Considering. They both knew that there was trouble in his eastern holdings. Better for him if he didn't have to direct his attention toward the west when he had trouble enough already. Wasn't that so?
"Not my call," Sweden murmured finally. And he was right; it wasn't.
"You might promise me to put in a word," Norway said softly. "Could give a professional opinion, couldn't you. Could say it's best to give it back. They'd listen to you." He stepped closer, then closer still, until he was close enough to dare to take his hand.
Sweden's gaze dropped then, staring at Norway's hand, the way it grasped his. He frowned, but didn't pull away. "I could." Then, a moment later – "Why should I?"
"For the sake of it bein' more convenient for you in the long run." Norway drew a deep breath. There was one thing more, one card he had left. "And in exchange for a night with me."
Sweden looked up sharply, then. Stared at Norway, but differently this time, and that was what Norway had planned. He kept his chin up, lifted his gaze, and tried his best to keep his expression neutral, rather than cold.
The war had taken its toll, Norway knew. He knew his features were too sharp, even for a face like his, and that he didn't look quite right in his frame. If Sweden embraced him it would be impossible not to notice how thin he'd become. But he hadn't looked well years ago, either, when offers of spending the night would have been made under much different circumstances.
You wanted me once, Norway thought, squeezing his hand gently. Do you want me still?
Sweden nodded, as if Norway had spoken the words. Then he drew Norway to him, and closed the distance between them.
His arms coiled around him.
Norway shut his eyes.
They were bare in a trice, and soon Norway was on his back.
He found it hard to breathe.
Sweden was too close, too present, claiming his lips as if he had a right to it – and he did, didn't he, for the night at least.
Norway was still for a moment in the face of that onslaught, Sweden's mouth firm against his own, something he hadn't felt in years, still dizzyingly familiar.
It's just part of the negotiations, all of this, Norway told himself. Part of the deal. Go with it.
So he made himself be pliant to his mouth, his tongue. Let Sweden open him up, those strong hands pushing his thighs apart, long fingers dipping into him. Finally that mouth left him, letting him breathe, and trailed down to caress his cock, flushed and hard.
Better that it was that way, Norway knew, even if it meant his own body was betraying him.
Norway sank his fingers into Sweden's hair and stared at the ceiling, watching the way the candlelight cast flickering shadows there. He let his breath run ragged under the work of Sweden's tongue. A curse slipped past his lips. He hoped Sweden would make nothing of it.
It was only a few moments. Not long at all. Not long before Sweden lifted his head again, moved to kiss him again, then took him up in his arms. Not long before he filled him, cock sliding inside of him slowly, as if he meant to be gentle about it.
Norway wrapped his arms around Sweden's shoulders and buried his face against his neck. He closed his eyes and let his body do as it willed, his hips rolling in time with Sweden's thrusts.
It wasn't over when Sweden finished.
Those hands didn't leave him; they stroked at his skin, touched at his hair, and if Norway hadn't known better he might have thought Sweden did it with as much fondness as he had all those years ago.
Three times Sweden had him that night. Three times Norway bit hard at his lip as he came. When Sweden finally rolled off of him, resting beside him with a low and almost affectionate murmur, Norway stayed close and breathed a spell to make him sleep.
He waited until Sweden's breathing slowed.
He could still feel the shape of Sweden's cock inside of him. His thighs and ass were slick with him.
His stomach turned.
Norway looked at the nation beside him, barely visible in the candle's low light. I ought to kill you in your bed, he thought.
But no good, he knew, would come from that.
Norway left the same way he'd arrived, bundled and wrapped, a spell on his lips in the dark. Trondheim's chilled morning air fogged his breath as he went.
The city almost felt like a part of him again.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Norway
Rating: 18+. Note: consent issues
Length: 1.1k
Summary: There are many lengths Norway would go to ensure the return of his territory. This meeting, all things considered, is not much.
Other: Set in early 1660, late February/March. The Norwegian province of Trøndelag was one of the areas ceded to Sweden in the 1658 treaty of Roskilde; it was returned after the signing of the treaty of Copenhagen in May 1660.
Written for the APH anon meme impromptu smut-a-thon; prompt was "anything/anywhere, smutty historical". [Original Post]
*Now with illustration by Lumiere! :)
Circuitous agreement
The boat slipped quietly up the fjord.
Norway peered out, his face hidden by his cloak and the scarf wrapped about his face against the cold.
Trondheim rested ahead, waiting. The familiar sight made his insides ache.
Sweden was there.
His spies had brought him word. That he was there. That his side was worried. If there was ever a chance – it was now, Norway knew.
He breathed a spell for safe passage, to avert the eyes, to slip unnoticed past anyone watching.
When the boat docked, nobody noticed a slim man dressed in black among those who disembarked.
He went to him.
Followed those familiar streets, to the address he had been given, passing unnoticed in front of the eyes of the enemy. Still, he kept away from the main streets. Far too many Swedes here, far too many watching eyes, and how could he be sure of how long the spell would hold?
Sweden's lodgings were where he expected them to be. Norway knocked, and entered without waiting for an answer.
That familiar head lifted, stared at him in flickering candlelight. "Wh-!"
Norway put a finger to his lips. "Hold on," he said quietly. "Just here to have a word."
Sweden glowered at him. By the look on his face, it was clear he thought Norway had some nerve. "A word."
"Aye, a word."
He pushed his hood back and pulled the scarf from his face. Went to him, keeping his strides and his gaze as firm and steady as he could.
What could he possibly say?
"Heard they're thinking on renegotiating things. The matters of my territory."
Sweden grunted. "Your territory?"
"Aye, my territory."
"Mine now."
Norway bit his tongue. Sweden was right, true enough, and it made him sick to his gut. "Fine. Reckon so. But the people here have given you nought but trouble while it's been yours. Ain't that right?"
Sweden stared at him. His face looked thin in the flickering candlelight. He was under stress, Norway knew. An empire stretched too far. The death of a king. And two years of resistance in Trøndelag. It'd put anyone out of sorts.
He took a breath and kept going. "You're spending resources here that you need elsewise. Resources that could be put to better use if you didn't have to hang on here." He dared to take a step closer.
For a moment, Sweden was quiet. Considering. They both knew that there was trouble in his eastern holdings. Better for him if he didn't have to direct his attention toward the west when he had trouble enough already. Wasn't that so?
"Not my call," Sweden murmured finally. And he was right; it wasn't.
"You might promise me to put in a word," Norway said softly. "Could give a professional opinion, couldn't you. Could say it's best to give it back. They'd listen to you." He stepped closer, then closer still, until he was close enough to dare to take his hand.
Sweden's gaze dropped then, staring at Norway's hand, the way it grasped his. He frowned, but didn't pull away. "I could." Then, a moment later – "Why should I?"
"For the sake of it bein' more convenient for you in the long run." Norway drew a deep breath. There was one thing more, one card he had left. "And in exchange for a night with me."
Sweden looked up sharply, then. Stared at Norway, but differently this time, and that was what Norway had planned. He kept his chin up, lifted his gaze, and tried his best to keep his expression neutral, rather than cold.
The war had taken its toll, Norway knew. He knew his features were too sharp, even for a face like his, and that he didn't look quite right in his frame. If Sweden embraced him it would be impossible not to notice how thin he'd become. But he hadn't looked well years ago, either, when offers of spending the night would have been made under much different circumstances.
You wanted me once, Norway thought, squeezing his hand gently. Do you want me still?
Sweden nodded, as if Norway had spoken the words. Then he drew Norway to him, and closed the distance between them.
His arms coiled around him.
Norway shut his eyes.
They were bare in a trice, and soon Norway was on his back.
He found it hard to breathe.
Sweden was too close, too present, claiming his lips as if he had a right to it – and he did, didn't he, for the night at least.
Norway was still for a moment in the face of that onslaught, Sweden's mouth firm against his own, something he hadn't felt in years, still dizzyingly familiar.
It's just part of the negotiations, all of this, Norway told himself. Part of the deal. Go with it.
So he made himself be pliant to his mouth, his tongue. Let Sweden open him up, those strong hands pushing his thighs apart, long fingers dipping into him. Finally that mouth left him, letting him breathe, and trailed down to caress his cock, flushed and hard.
Better that it was that way, Norway knew, even if it meant his own body was betraying him.
Norway sank his fingers into Sweden's hair and stared at the ceiling, watching the way the candlelight cast flickering shadows there. He let his breath run ragged under the work of Sweden's tongue. A curse slipped past his lips. He hoped Sweden would make nothing of it.
It was only a few moments. Not long at all. Not long before Sweden lifted his head again, moved to kiss him again, then took him up in his arms. Not long before he filled him, cock sliding inside of him slowly, as if he meant to be gentle about it.
Norway wrapped his arms around Sweden's shoulders and buried his face against his neck. He closed his eyes and let his body do as it willed, his hips rolling in time with Sweden's thrusts.
It wasn't over when Sweden finished.
Those hands didn't leave him; they stroked at his skin, touched at his hair, and if Norway hadn't known better he might have thought Sweden did it with as much fondness as he had all those years ago.
Three times Sweden had him that night. Three times Norway bit hard at his lip as he came. When Sweden finally rolled off of him, resting beside him with a low and almost affectionate murmur, Norway stayed close and breathed a spell to make him sleep.
He waited until Sweden's breathing slowed.
He could still feel the shape of Sweden's cock inside of him. His thighs and ass were slick with him.
His stomach turned.
Norway looked at the nation beside him, barely visible in the candle's low light. I ought to kill you in your bed, he thought.
But no good, he knew, would come from that.
Norway left the same way he'd arrived, bundled and wrapped, a spell on his lips in the dark. Trondheim's chilled morning air fogged his breath as he went.
The city almost felt like a part of him again.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2018-12-24 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)Sweden grunted. "Your territory?"
"Aye, my territory."
"Mine now."
Understated awfulness. :D What an asshole, ahhhh.
no subject
I tried to strike the right balance of asshole + genuine fondness (or at least memories of tenderness), so I'm glad that worked for you. 8)