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roesslyngTitle: Turning inward, no last thoughts
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Netherlands
Rating: 18+
Length: ~800 words
Summary: A night together.
Other: Title is from "Small song on surrender" by Jan Zwicky. Written for Razzaroo for Candy Hearts Exchange. [Ao3]
Turning inward, no last thoughts
Denmark knew a thing or two about hospitality, Netherlands thought. At least, that was one way to put it.
In the dimness of Denmark's bedroom, Netherlands thought about saying that, and decided not to.
Better to just enjoy how easily Denmark went to his knees, how readily he opened that big mouth of his. How eager he was to please. The low, flickering candlelight made Denmark's coarse hair look darker than it was, and Netherlands sank his fingers into it, gripping tightly.
Not for the first time, or the second, or the third. Or the tenth. They'd found themselves like this again and again over the years – Netherlands, sitting at the edge of Denmark's bed. Denmark in front of him, lips wrapped around Netherlands' cock, his hair wrapped in Netherlands' fingers, his eyelashes low.
The first time, Netherlands had wondered what the deal was. What his angle was. What Denmark was trying to get from this, what leverage he might find from sleeping with him.
It didn't take him long to realize that Denmark was as subtle as a brick. If he'd been trying to get anything out of this beyond personal satisfaction, it would have been obvious.
Deep, deeper. Denmark's mouth was hot and slick. Sloppy. Enough to make Netherlands gasp. Enough to tighten his grip on Denmark's hair, drawing a low moan out of him.
"You like that, don't you." Netherlands said it with a grin, unable to keep the amusement out of his words, even with his face flushed and his voice shaking. At any rate, the comment got a groan around his cock en lieu of a yes. Strong fingers digging into his thighs. Hot breath against his skin.
So Netherlands let himself go on, gripping Denmark's hair as he pushed his head deeper, pulling at it as he fucked his face, knowing – because this was not the first time, and would not be the last – that Denmark's mouth was big enough to take it.
When he finished, they were both breathless. Himself, coming down from the high. Denmark, cheek resting against Netherlands' thigh, face flushed and pupils wide with arousal. Then Denmark smiled wide, letting out a laugh, like he was pleased with himself.
"Well! That was fun," he said, teeth flashing white.
Netherlands grunted in acknowledgement. "Come up here," he muttered. When Denmark settled on the mattress beside him, he kissed him hard, tasting himself on those loose, open lips.
"Your turn," Netherlands said. And as he guided him down onto his back, hands sliding low, he kissed him again.
Not the first time.
Not the second.
And if he had his way, there'd never be a last time.
Strong hands pushed him down, down. One moved to cup Denmark's head, cradling it tenderly, all the better to kiss him.
And Netherlands' other hand – well – it dipped low, grasped him firmly, bringing sweet relief.
Patience didn't come easily, but Denmark did his damn best. He clung to Netherlands, moaning into the open-mouthed kiss, bucking up into that strong, sure, familiar hand. No need to be shy about it. No need to hold back, not when they were close, close as skin and close as pals, close as two people like them could be under the circumstances.
Oh, he knew that Netherlands thought – suspected – that there might be something else behind it, that the motivations might be otherwise. Or at least he'd through that once. Initially. Trust him to figure something like that, to look for something beyond the obvious when the answer was right in front of his face.
The kiss broke. Netherlands' lips were at his throat, teeth grazing skin, mouthing at his collarbone. Denmark stared upward with hazy eyes, watching the candlelight flicker on the walls and ceiling. He let his groans come low and deep as he thrust through the tight ring of Netherlands' fingers. As if, were he loud enough, that'd get the message through that there was no need to go looking for anything beyond what it was. That there was no other motivation. That it was only this, the two of them, in this moment.
The press of hot mouth against his own silenced him. Denmark cupped Netherlands' face with his fingertips, kissed him long and deep until finally he gasped and came, trusting once more against his hand, the flood of feeling warm and good.
Neither of them said anything for a while after that. Denmark rested and breathed in the dim, hazy light.
Netherlands sat up. He took his time wiping his hands, expression quiet. The candlelight brushed his skin with gold, light and shadow accentuating his muscled shoulders and the sharp line of his cheekbones.
"You're leaving tomorrow," Denmark muttered.
"Mmhm."
"Know when you'll come this way again?"
A long pause. Netherlands chewed his lower lip, looking like he was in want of his pipe. As if that was too much of a question for the moment. "No," he said. Then he glanced over, meeting Denmark's eyes. "But when I do, I'll tell you."
A smile spread over Denmark's lips. "All right," he said. "That'll do."
And it would.
Netherlands, he knew, was someone who kept his word.
Denmark would hold him to it.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Netherlands
Rating: 18+
Length: ~800 words
Summary: A night together.
Other: Title is from "Small song on surrender" by Jan Zwicky. Written for Razzaroo for Candy Hearts Exchange. [Ao3]
Turning inward, no last thoughts
Denmark knew a thing or two about hospitality, Netherlands thought. At least, that was one way to put it.
In the dimness of Denmark's bedroom, Netherlands thought about saying that, and decided not to.
Better to just enjoy how easily Denmark went to his knees, how readily he opened that big mouth of his. How eager he was to please. The low, flickering candlelight made Denmark's coarse hair look darker than it was, and Netherlands sank his fingers into it, gripping tightly.
Not for the first time, or the second, or the third. Or the tenth. They'd found themselves like this again and again over the years – Netherlands, sitting at the edge of Denmark's bed. Denmark in front of him, lips wrapped around Netherlands' cock, his hair wrapped in Netherlands' fingers, his eyelashes low.
The first time, Netherlands had wondered what the deal was. What his angle was. What Denmark was trying to get from this, what leverage he might find from sleeping with him.
It didn't take him long to realize that Denmark was as subtle as a brick. If he'd been trying to get anything out of this beyond personal satisfaction, it would have been obvious.
Deep, deeper. Denmark's mouth was hot and slick. Sloppy. Enough to make Netherlands gasp. Enough to tighten his grip on Denmark's hair, drawing a low moan out of him.
"You like that, don't you." Netherlands said it with a grin, unable to keep the amusement out of his words, even with his face flushed and his voice shaking. At any rate, the comment got a groan around his cock en lieu of a yes. Strong fingers digging into his thighs. Hot breath against his skin.
So Netherlands let himself go on, gripping Denmark's hair as he pushed his head deeper, pulling at it as he fucked his face, knowing – because this was not the first time, and would not be the last – that Denmark's mouth was big enough to take it.
When he finished, they were both breathless. Himself, coming down from the high. Denmark, cheek resting against Netherlands' thigh, face flushed and pupils wide with arousal. Then Denmark smiled wide, letting out a laugh, like he was pleased with himself.
"Well! That was fun," he said, teeth flashing white.
Netherlands grunted in acknowledgement. "Come up here," he muttered. When Denmark settled on the mattress beside him, he kissed him hard, tasting himself on those loose, open lips.
"Your turn," Netherlands said. And as he guided him down onto his back, hands sliding low, he kissed him again.
Not the first time.
Not the second.
And if he had his way, there'd never be a last time.
Strong hands pushed him down, down. One moved to cup Denmark's head, cradling it tenderly, all the better to kiss him.
And Netherlands' other hand – well – it dipped low, grasped him firmly, bringing sweet relief.
Patience didn't come easily, but Denmark did his damn best. He clung to Netherlands, moaning into the open-mouthed kiss, bucking up into that strong, sure, familiar hand. No need to be shy about it. No need to hold back, not when they were close, close as skin and close as pals, close as two people like them could be under the circumstances.
Oh, he knew that Netherlands thought – suspected – that there might be something else behind it, that the motivations might be otherwise. Or at least he'd through that once. Initially. Trust him to figure something like that, to look for something beyond the obvious when the answer was right in front of his face.
The kiss broke. Netherlands' lips were at his throat, teeth grazing skin, mouthing at his collarbone. Denmark stared upward with hazy eyes, watching the candlelight flicker on the walls and ceiling. He let his groans come low and deep as he thrust through the tight ring of Netherlands' fingers. As if, were he loud enough, that'd get the message through that there was no need to go looking for anything beyond what it was. That there was no other motivation. That it was only this, the two of them, in this moment.
The press of hot mouth against his own silenced him. Denmark cupped Netherlands' face with his fingertips, kissed him long and deep until finally he gasped and came, trusting once more against his hand, the flood of feeling warm and good.
Neither of them said anything for a while after that. Denmark rested and breathed in the dim, hazy light.
Netherlands sat up. He took his time wiping his hands, expression quiet. The candlelight brushed his skin with gold, light and shadow accentuating his muscled shoulders and the sharp line of his cheekbones.
"You're leaving tomorrow," Denmark muttered.
"Mmhm."
"Know when you'll come this way again?"
A long pause. Netherlands chewed his lower lip, looking like he was in want of his pipe. As if that was too much of a question for the moment. "No," he said. Then he glanced over, meeting Denmark's eyes. "But when I do, I'll tell you."
A smile spread over Denmark's lips. "All right," he said. "That'll do."
And it would.
Netherlands, he knew, was someone who kept his word.
Denmark would hold him to it.
