Untitled [Netherlands/Norway]
Dec. 28th, 2011 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Untitled
Characters/Pairing: Netherlands/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 377
Summary: Norway ties Netherlands down and does as he pleases with him.
Other: Written in response to a ficlet challenge on the APH anon meme. (Original post)
Untitled
Hands. Hands on him, hands trailing fingertips, fingernails, light, grazing along his chest, along his throat, hands in his hair - damn it, why his hair - he cursed and bit his lip as he remembered that he had agreed to that.
Not that he would stop that. Not that he could, even if he wanted to. Tied and bound and spread out on the mattress, open and bare and blindfolded, there wasn't a single damn thing he could do about it.
Netherlands gave the ropes an experimental tug. No. They held fast. He wouldn't expect anything less.
Lips by his ear. "What was that I said about havin' to tie you down every time we-"
"Fuck-"
"Aye, that."
Netherlands huffed and rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold. Tried to snap out a retort but then Norway's mouth brushed his ear again and any words that had been forming died and he shuddered, actually shuddered as those lips parted and that tongue slid out to stroke along his earlobe.
Mouth on his ear. Hands in his hair. Fingers on his neck, trailing down. He groaned and twisted, tried to move and couldn't. Made do by thrusting up against him and fuck, that only made it worse, because then Norway rubbed up against him, moaning softly by his ear, and he would have thought that put on if it weren't for the fact that he could feel him pressing full and hard against his thigh, Norway's clothing in the way, all of it, the sensation sensation of fabric against bare skin maddening. He'd have torn it off him if his hands were free. Let him press so he can feel it.
But Netherlands knew that was part of it. It must have been. Norway fucking knew what he was doing and there was no way that couldn't have been on purpose. He knew he'd have done that. Stripped him. Hard. Rough. Biting. That was why he'd tied him down, spread him out over the white bedsheets. That was why he teased him with slow touches, and calloused hands, and a mouth soft and slick and searching, grazing down his neck, down his chest, down -
Might as well lay back and enjoy it. He couldn't do anything else.
Characters/Pairing: Netherlands/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 377
Summary: Norway ties Netherlands down and does as he pleases with him.
Other: Written in response to a ficlet challenge on the APH anon meme. (Original post)
Untitled
Hands. Hands on him, hands trailing fingertips, fingernails, light, grazing along his chest, along his throat, hands in his hair - damn it, why his hair - he cursed and bit his lip as he remembered that he had agreed to that.
Not that he would stop that. Not that he could, even if he wanted to. Tied and bound and spread out on the mattress, open and bare and blindfolded, there wasn't a single damn thing he could do about it.
Netherlands gave the ropes an experimental tug. No. They held fast. He wouldn't expect anything less.
Lips by his ear. "What was that I said about havin' to tie you down every time we-"
"Fuck-"
"Aye, that."
Netherlands huffed and rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold. Tried to snap out a retort but then Norway's mouth brushed his ear again and any words that had been forming died and he shuddered, actually shuddered as those lips parted and that tongue slid out to stroke along his earlobe.
Mouth on his ear. Hands in his hair. Fingers on his neck, trailing down. He groaned and twisted, tried to move and couldn't. Made do by thrusting up against him and fuck, that only made it worse, because then Norway rubbed up against him, moaning softly by his ear, and he would have thought that put on if it weren't for the fact that he could feel him pressing full and hard against his thigh, Norway's clothing in the way, all of it, the sensation sensation of fabric against bare skin maddening. He'd have torn it off him if his hands were free. Let him press so he can feel it.
But Netherlands knew that was part of it. It must have been. Norway fucking knew what he was doing and there was no way that couldn't have been on purpose. He knew he'd have done that. Stripped him. Hard. Rough. Biting. That was why he'd tied him down, spread him out over the white bedsheets. That was why he teased him with slow touches, and calloused hands, and a mouth soft and slick and searching, grazing down his neck, down his chest, down -
Might as well lay back and enjoy it. He couldn't do anything else.
