Not reality [Estonia -> Finland]
Aug. 15th, 2010 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Not reality
Characters/Pairing: Estonia -> Finland
Rating: 18+
Length: 200
Summary: Fantasies.
Other: Originally posted in my sketch journal. (Original post)
Not reality
Late at night. Resting beneath the sheets, curled up under the quilt, head against the pillow. Estonia did not sleep. It was that sort of time between wake and sleep, a dozy sort of time. Good enough to spend it by himself, but far better if there was someone with him.
He imagined Finland there, on the other side of him. Nestled against his back, arms around his waist. He could practically feel him nuzzling against his shoulder, warm breath ghosting his skin. Light kisses along his shoulder, his spine, his neck. Hand slipping, moving downward --
The thought stirred something in him. Soon he was moving his hand in the path he imagined, intending to take care of it. Far better it would be if it was Finland's hand, he thought. Finland reaching around and downward, slipping beneath the band of his pyjama pants to touch and grasp and stroke. Rough, worn fingers, but familiar; familiar as the press of him against Estonia's back, the press of his mouth against skin, the sound of his voice as he murmured something by his ear.
He bit his lip and jerked himself off and wished that Finland was the one doing it.
Characters/Pairing: Estonia -> Finland
Rating: 18+
Length: 200
Summary: Fantasies.
Other: Originally posted in my sketch journal. (Original post)
Not reality
Late at night. Resting beneath the sheets, curled up under the quilt, head against the pillow. Estonia did not sleep. It was that sort of time between wake and sleep, a dozy sort of time. Good enough to spend it by himself, but far better if there was someone with him.
He imagined Finland there, on the other side of him. Nestled against his back, arms around his waist. He could practically feel him nuzzling against his shoulder, warm breath ghosting his skin. Light kisses along his shoulder, his spine, his neck. Hand slipping, moving downward --
The thought stirred something in him. Soon he was moving his hand in the path he imagined, intending to take care of it. Far better it would be if it was Finland's hand, he thought. Finland reaching around and downward, slipping beneath the band of his pyjama pants to touch and grasp and stroke. Rough, worn fingers, but familiar; familiar as the press of him against Estonia's back, the press of his mouth against skin, the sound of his voice as he murmured something by his ear.
He bit his lip and jerked himself off and wished that Finland was the one doing it.
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