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Entry tags:
Composition [Norway]
Title: Composition
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Norway (alone)
Rating: 18+
Length: ~500 words
Summary: Norway likes to take photographs of himself.
Other: Flashfic for Lumiere. :D
Composition
The light was important. Getting it right. Making sure it was how he wanted it.
Not perfect; that was an impossibility, and more importantly – that would take away from it. If that could be achieved. Which it couldn't.
Norway closed his eyes for a moment. Breathed in. It was bright outside, and the sunlight filtered past open blinds, past thin curtains, to spill light and shadow across the floor and onto the bed's sheets and all over his bare skin.
As a breeze clicked the blind against the window, the camera shutter clicked. Clicked again. Again.
The remote shutter control was small, small enough to tuck into his palm. Or against his body. Close enough that it would be hidden in the final photograph when he developed it in his darkroom in the cellar.
With his free hand, Norway pressed his fingertips to his lips. Parted them. Slid inward, just to the first knuckle. Lingered, as if it was something else. Kept his eyes lightly shut, lashes low. Click.
Then something occurred to him. A thought. An image. If he -
He rearranged himself on the bed. Moved. If – here. And his hand – there. Positioned himself to make it look like that hand could be someone else's hand. Someone behind him.
Norway pressed his fingers to his mouth again, but kept his eyes open. Slid his gaze to the side, as if asking that person, that ghost of a partner, just what they wanted. What they were implying. What they would do next.
He took the shot. Wondered how it would turn out. Knew it would be a while before he found out.
Looking back at the camera again, Norway paused. Let his hand move, slide downward. Fingertips over throat, over collarbone. Downward. Lower. Click. Click again.
Once again, he rolled over on the bed. The sheets were mussed by now, in disarray. Going to have to fix that later, Norway thought, as he repositioned himself. Sprawled in such a way that his face was visible, but so was everything else.
Norway sighed. Let his hand drift low, lower, until he could touch himself. It didn't take much to get himself hard – he was halfway there already. A few quick strokes, and the blood went straight to his cock. He indulged himself – but slowly, and clicking the remote shutter all the while. Thumb stroking the head. Long fingers brushing low, caressing his balls. Thighs spreading wide, wider.
If he – what would it look like, he wondered, if he -
He swallowed harshly, then paused. Not long. Just long enough to reach for the bedside table, and what he'd left there. Squeezed lube on his fingers, took a moment to warm it up. Then he rested back again, eyes drifting shut as he circled slick fingers around his asshole. Pressed two inside. Lips parting with a sigh, he could feel the flush spreading over his cheeks.
Another click. Another as he pressed deeper.
He knew that soon, he'd be too distracted for more. But for the moment – Norway bit his lower lip, and took another photograph – for the moment, he'd indulge himself.
He knew that later, he'd be able to enjoy it all again.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Norway (alone)
Rating: 18+
Length: ~500 words
Summary: Norway likes to take photographs of himself.
Other: Flashfic for Lumiere. :D
Composition
The light was important. Getting it right. Making sure it was how he wanted it.
Not perfect; that was an impossibility, and more importantly – that would take away from it. If that could be achieved. Which it couldn't.
Norway closed his eyes for a moment. Breathed in. It was bright outside, and the sunlight filtered past open blinds, past thin curtains, to spill light and shadow across the floor and onto the bed's sheets and all over his bare skin.
As a breeze clicked the blind against the window, the camera shutter clicked. Clicked again. Again.
The remote shutter control was small, small enough to tuck into his palm. Or against his body. Close enough that it would be hidden in the final photograph when he developed it in his darkroom in the cellar.
With his free hand, Norway pressed his fingertips to his lips. Parted them. Slid inward, just to the first knuckle. Lingered, as if it was something else. Kept his eyes lightly shut, lashes low. Click.
Then something occurred to him. A thought. An image. If he -
He rearranged himself on the bed. Moved. If – here. And his hand – there. Positioned himself to make it look like that hand could be someone else's hand. Someone behind him.
Norway pressed his fingers to his mouth again, but kept his eyes open. Slid his gaze to the side, as if asking that person, that ghost of a partner, just what they wanted. What they were implying. What they would do next.
He took the shot. Wondered how it would turn out. Knew it would be a while before he found out.
Looking back at the camera again, Norway paused. Let his hand move, slide downward. Fingertips over throat, over collarbone. Downward. Lower. Click. Click again.
Once again, he rolled over on the bed. The sheets were mussed by now, in disarray. Going to have to fix that later, Norway thought, as he repositioned himself. Sprawled in such a way that his face was visible, but so was everything else.
Norway sighed. Let his hand drift low, lower, until he could touch himself. It didn't take much to get himself hard – he was halfway there already. A few quick strokes, and the blood went straight to his cock. He indulged himself – but slowly, and clicking the remote shutter all the while. Thumb stroking the head. Long fingers brushing low, caressing his balls. Thighs spreading wide, wider.
If he – what would it look like, he wondered, if he -
He swallowed harshly, then paused. Not long. Just long enough to reach for the bedside table, and what he'd left there. Squeezed lube on his fingers, took a moment to warm it up. Then he rested back again, eyes drifting shut as he circled slick fingers around his asshole. Pressed two inside. Lips parting with a sigh, he could feel the flush spreading over his cheeks.
Another click. Another as he pressed deeper.
He knew that soon, he'd be too distracted for more. But for the moment – Norway bit his lower lip, and took another photograph – for the moment, he'd indulge himself.
He knew that later, he'd be able to enjoy it all again.