Untitled [Hong Kong/Iceland/Norway]
Jul. 9th, 2011 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Untitled
Characters/Pairing: Hong Kong/Iceland/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 1800
Summary: Norway and Iceland invite Hong Kong to join them in the bedroom.
Other: Originally posted at my sketch journal. (Original entry)
Untitled
Evening. Maybe Norway and Iceland slip off together. Make some excuse - blatantly transparent. Norway telling Hong Kong he needs to have a Word with Iceland, but as Hong Kong watches them go down the hall, he sees Norway slide his arm around Iceland, his hand low.
He recalls seeing them intimate before. Watching them through one of the doorways between the hall and the kitchen, left slightly open just a crack. Enough to see it. Everything. Norway pushing Iceland against the counter. Iceland protesting, saying they can't, what if Hong Kong sees - not knowing just how right he is - and Norway saying, simply, don't worry. Hong Kong said he'd go have a nap, didn't he. They're alone. Tilting his head to say it in Iceland's ear, but not too quietly. Just loudly enough to be heard. And while saying it, looking at that sliver of space between the door and the wall, looking expressionlessly at Hong Kong who looks at him, flushed to the tips, knowing he shouldn't. He recalls seeing Iceland's resolve crumble as Norway leans in and kisses him, hard, pressing against him, hands grabbing his hips. Iceland kissing him back and blushing but not protesting any more, groaning when Norway slides his thigh in between his legs, pressing against him. Remembers watching, staring, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Norway sinking down to his knees. Head down as his hands go up, but looking to the side a bit. Looking right at him as he unzips Iceland's pants, looking at him with that unreadable expression as he exposes his brother's cock, then /winking/. He remembers watching agape at the sight of Norway lifting his head, then, looking up at Iceland, murmuring things too low for Hong Kong to hear while stroking his brother's cock, wrapping his long fingers around it, those fingers that he knew, gentle and calloused, those fingers that had touched him the night before. Replaced, then, by tongue. Slow, sliding over it, slow, seeming to put on a show for him, himself, with Iceland oblivious, gasping and gripping the counter.
He remembers watching. Watching that. Watching Norway suck Iceland off. Watching until the ache between his legs was too much. Pulling himself away from that door and padding down the hall, slipping into the washroom. Stroking himself off there while thinking of what he had just seen, both turned on and horrified at the fact that /Norway had known/ and invited him to watch it, coming hard to the thought of Iceland biting his lip to keep from moaning, his fingers wrapped in Norway's hair, Norway's lips wrapped around his cock.
Hong Kong recalls this as he watches them walk down the hallway together. Feels something stirring in him. Knows he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't. But he will, even if he shouldn't.
He waits a moment. Waits. Then slides off the couch and, stepping as quietly as he can, follows them.
The door is open. The door to Norway's bedroom is wide open and Hong Kong is startled enough by this fact that he nearly falls into it. He steels himself, steps away, prepares to scramble -- and then he hears his name. An invitation. It's Norway. Norway telling him to come in. Hong Kong hesitates in the door, then hears another voice, quiet, embarrassed, trying so hard to be confident. Iceland. Iceland echoing his brother's words.
His feet move for him. He steps through the door. Presses it shut behind him. This is what Hong Kong sees:
Norway. Norway, sprawled out on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair mussed. Norway, cupping Iceland's head with one of his hands, stroking his hair. Iceland, draped on top of his older brother, head resting on his chest. Iceland, flushed, looking as if he'd give anything /not/ to be blushing. Dishevelled, the both of them, their lips reddened from kissing.
Sit yourself down, Norway tells him, and Hong Kong obeys as if in a daze, feeling he shouldn't, but suspecting what might come next. Sinks down onto the mattress. Norway cups his cheek and guides him down into a kiss. Firm. Open. Inviting. Then whispers against his lips the question he'd been hoping to hear, had been afraid to ask about, terrifying and thrilling and arousing all at once. Would y'like to watch. That's what he says, then repeats, as if he hadn't heard it the first time. Would y'like to watch us, Hong Kong?
He nods. Who wouldn't? Wants to say 'yes'. Wants to say it. Finds he can't. Blushes deeply and parts his lips to say it, but can't. Tears his eyes away from Norway instead. Looks helplessly to Iceland, who lifts his head and invites a kiss. He takes that invitation. Feels Norway's hand drift, stroke through his hair while he kisses Iceland. Soft. Iceland's mouth is soft as it always is and when they pull away, the both of them blushing, Iceland says that it's okay, and to wait, he'll give him something to look at, then they'll -- they'll both take care of him.
Unable to turn back now even if he wanted to, Hong Kong kisses Iceland again. Pulls away. Rests back and watches. Doesn't take his eyes off either of them. Can't. Can't look away as he watches Iceland go downward, nuzzling against his brother's crotch before working at his pants, fumbling with them, his fingers shaking as he takes them off. Watches as Norway sighs and spreads his legs wide, rests back and closes his eyes, touches Iceland's head again and guides his younger brother's face down. Down. Down to his cock, hard already, which Iceland takes in his hands and strokes, takes in his mouth and sucks, his eyes all the time locked with Hong Kong's. And Hong Kong knows those hands, knows those lips, knows they're soft and can practically feel them himself. Feel Iceland's tongue as it strokes, sweeps, draws out moans from Norway who wraps his fingers in Iceland's hair, draws it back away from his face, and Hong Kong isn't sure if it's out of kindness to his younger brother, keeping those strands of white hair out of his way, or if it's meant for /him/, helping him see, making a show of it, helping him watch as Norway's cock slides deeper into Iceland's mouth, as Iceland takes it in, all of it, sucks his brother off while watching Hong Kong who watches him, getting harder with every minute that passes and trying not to touch himself because he remembers what Iceland said, what Iceland hinted at, that they'll both take care of him.
It doesn't end when Norway comes, groaning, in Iceland's eager mouth. Doesn't end when Iceland withdraws from him, flushed, dishevelled and hard. Before Hong Kong even realizes what is happening they're both on him, touching him, drawing him toward the centre of the bed. They strip him together, Iceland's hands shy and fumbling, Norway's firm and lazy and methodical. They whisper to him, both of them, their words blending together. We'll see that you're right done. Just let us take care of you, okay? And Hong Kong can't argue, can't argue with that, not when Norway is easing him onto his back and kissing him, not when Iceland is pressing his lips against his throat, his collarbones, his chest, kisses light and velvet-soft before drawing away, making him fidget, making him protest against Norway's mouth before Norway slides his tongue between his lips and his hand between his legs and quiets him.
Hong Kong listens while Norway, distracted, kisses him, strokes him off, then stops and just kisses him; hears the shift of fabric as Iceland strips, hears him moving, hears a drawer opening and him rummaging for something, and soon he feels that touch again, the press of him, the heat of him as he reaches to - to touch Norway's face perhaps - and Iceland is far too warm, familiar. And Hong Kong feels something else. Slick fingers pressing to him, sliding inside of him, making him gasp against Norway's mouth, shiver, spread out, not even sure who those fingers belong to. And soon Norway isn't kissing him any more; Norway is pressing him against the mattress, against the pillows, turning his head a bit until he's satisfied Hong Kong can see, and he tells him, Watch.
And he watches. Watches as Norway readies Iceland. Watches as he strokes his brother almost lovingly, kissing him while he does it, his long fingers gentle, slow-moving, and slick. Iceland moans against his brother's mouth, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment before he looks to Hong Kong, meets eyes with him. They stare at each other, flustered, unable to believe what they're doing but not about to stop. Then Norway draws away from Iceland, pushes him toward Hong Kong, and tells him, coolly, to take care of their guest.
Hong Kong rests back and takes it in and can't wonder how he found himself in this position because they don't let him wonder it, don't let him think, don't let him stop even for a minute to pause and consider anything beyond the pleasure. Beyond the moment. Beyond Iceland fucking him, his cock deep inside of him, gasping - moaning - whispering. Beyond Norway resting beside him, stroking him off while he strokes his hair and whispers things in his ear, low, soft, his lips brushing. Beyond the shortness of breath, the moans that Hong Kong tries to hold back, the slight jolt of pain as Norway bites down on his ear and then asks - no, orders him not to stifle them. Unable to resist that - this - any of it, Hong Kong gives in, tilts his head back, gasps as he rocks up against Iceland's cock, against Norway's hand, moans as he hears the both of them speaking to him, their voices mingling, working in time with their touches, their gestures, their bodies.
Under all this, Hong Kong can't last. He comes when he hears Iceland groaning his name, when he hears Norway whispering for him to go ahead, when he feels Iceland thrust himself deep inside of him, when Norway wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes him off tightly. He lets go, arches against the mattress, sees stars as he comes, moaning, breathless.
They rest together after all of it, after Iceland finishes, after they've both collapsed on the mattress next to Norway. They rest together in the warm evening light coming in from the open window, curled together, Norway kissing them both in turn, Iceland mumbling about how that was - I mean - it was really - thank you.
Hong Kong wonders, for a moment, as Iceland snuggles up next to him and Norway nuzzles against his neck, how on earth it got to this point.
He decides it doesn't matter.
The End
Characters/Pairing: Hong Kong/Iceland/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 1800
Summary: Norway and Iceland invite Hong Kong to join them in the bedroom.
Other: Originally posted at my sketch journal. (Original entry)
Untitled
Evening. Maybe Norway and Iceland slip off together. Make some excuse - blatantly transparent. Norway telling Hong Kong he needs to have a Word with Iceland, but as Hong Kong watches them go down the hall, he sees Norway slide his arm around Iceland, his hand low.
He recalls seeing them intimate before. Watching them through one of the doorways between the hall and the kitchen, left slightly open just a crack. Enough to see it. Everything. Norway pushing Iceland against the counter. Iceland protesting, saying they can't, what if Hong Kong sees - not knowing just how right he is - and Norway saying, simply, don't worry. Hong Kong said he'd go have a nap, didn't he. They're alone. Tilting his head to say it in Iceland's ear, but not too quietly. Just loudly enough to be heard. And while saying it, looking at that sliver of space between the door and the wall, looking expressionlessly at Hong Kong who looks at him, flushed to the tips, knowing he shouldn't. He recalls seeing Iceland's resolve crumble as Norway leans in and kisses him, hard, pressing against him, hands grabbing his hips. Iceland kissing him back and blushing but not protesting any more, groaning when Norway slides his thigh in between his legs, pressing against him. Remembers watching, staring, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Norway sinking down to his knees. Head down as his hands go up, but looking to the side a bit. Looking right at him as he unzips Iceland's pants, looking at him with that unreadable expression as he exposes his brother's cock, then /winking/. He remembers watching agape at the sight of Norway lifting his head, then, looking up at Iceland, murmuring things too low for Hong Kong to hear while stroking his brother's cock, wrapping his long fingers around it, those fingers that he knew, gentle and calloused, those fingers that had touched him the night before. Replaced, then, by tongue. Slow, sliding over it, slow, seeming to put on a show for him, himself, with Iceland oblivious, gasping and gripping the counter.
He remembers watching. Watching that. Watching Norway suck Iceland off. Watching until the ache between his legs was too much. Pulling himself away from that door and padding down the hall, slipping into the washroom. Stroking himself off there while thinking of what he had just seen, both turned on and horrified at the fact that /Norway had known/ and invited him to watch it, coming hard to the thought of Iceland biting his lip to keep from moaning, his fingers wrapped in Norway's hair, Norway's lips wrapped around his cock.
Hong Kong recalls this as he watches them walk down the hallway together. Feels something stirring in him. Knows he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't. But he will, even if he shouldn't.
He waits a moment. Waits. Then slides off the couch and, stepping as quietly as he can, follows them.
The door is open. The door to Norway's bedroom is wide open and Hong Kong is startled enough by this fact that he nearly falls into it. He steels himself, steps away, prepares to scramble -- and then he hears his name. An invitation. It's Norway. Norway telling him to come in. Hong Kong hesitates in the door, then hears another voice, quiet, embarrassed, trying so hard to be confident. Iceland. Iceland echoing his brother's words.
His feet move for him. He steps through the door. Presses it shut behind him. This is what Hong Kong sees:
Norway. Norway, sprawled out on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair mussed. Norway, cupping Iceland's head with one of his hands, stroking his hair. Iceland, draped on top of his older brother, head resting on his chest. Iceland, flushed, looking as if he'd give anything /not/ to be blushing. Dishevelled, the both of them, their lips reddened from kissing.
Sit yourself down, Norway tells him, and Hong Kong obeys as if in a daze, feeling he shouldn't, but suspecting what might come next. Sinks down onto the mattress. Norway cups his cheek and guides him down into a kiss. Firm. Open. Inviting. Then whispers against his lips the question he'd been hoping to hear, had been afraid to ask about, terrifying and thrilling and arousing all at once. Would y'like to watch. That's what he says, then repeats, as if he hadn't heard it the first time. Would y'like to watch us, Hong Kong?
He nods. Who wouldn't? Wants to say 'yes'. Wants to say it. Finds he can't. Blushes deeply and parts his lips to say it, but can't. Tears his eyes away from Norway instead. Looks helplessly to Iceland, who lifts his head and invites a kiss. He takes that invitation. Feels Norway's hand drift, stroke through his hair while he kisses Iceland. Soft. Iceland's mouth is soft as it always is and when they pull away, the both of them blushing, Iceland says that it's okay, and to wait, he'll give him something to look at, then they'll -- they'll both take care of him.
Unable to turn back now even if he wanted to, Hong Kong kisses Iceland again. Pulls away. Rests back and watches. Doesn't take his eyes off either of them. Can't. Can't look away as he watches Iceland go downward, nuzzling against his brother's crotch before working at his pants, fumbling with them, his fingers shaking as he takes them off. Watches as Norway sighs and spreads his legs wide, rests back and closes his eyes, touches Iceland's head again and guides his younger brother's face down. Down. Down to his cock, hard already, which Iceland takes in his hands and strokes, takes in his mouth and sucks, his eyes all the time locked with Hong Kong's. And Hong Kong knows those hands, knows those lips, knows they're soft and can practically feel them himself. Feel Iceland's tongue as it strokes, sweeps, draws out moans from Norway who wraps his fingers in Iceland's hair, draws it back away from his face, and Hong Kong isn't sure if it's out of kindness to his younger brother, keeping those strands of white hair out of his way, or if it's meant for /him/, helping him see, making a show of it, helping him watch as Norway's cock slides deeper into Iceland's mouth, as Iceland takes it in, all of it, sucks his brother off while watching Hong Kong who watches him, getting harder with every minute that passes and trying not to touch himself because he remembers what Iceland said, what Iceland hinted at, that they'll both take care of him.
It doesn't end when Norway comes, groaning, in Iceland's eager mouth. Doesn't end when Iceland withdraws from him, flushed, dishevelled and hard. Before Hong Kong even realizes what is happening they're both on him, touching him, drawing him toward the centre of the bed. They strip him together, Iceland's hands shy and fumbling, Norway's firm and lazy and methodical. They whisper to him, both of them, their words blending together. We'll see that you're right done. Just let us take care of you, okay? And Hong Kong can't argue, can't argue with that, not when Norway is easing him onto his back and kissing him, not when Iceland is pressing his lips against his throat, his collarbones, his chest, kisses light and velvet-soft before drawing away, making him fidget, making him protest against Norway's mouth before Norway slides his tongue between his lips and his hand between his legs and quiets him.
Hong Kong listens while Norway, distracted, kisses him, strokes him off, then stops and just kisses him; hears the shift of fabric as Iceland strips, hears him moving, hears a drawer opening and him rummaging for something, and soon he feels that touch again, the press of him, the heat of him as he reaches to - to touch Norway's face perhaps - and Iceland is far too warm, familiar. And Hong Kong feels something else. Slick fingers pressing to him, sliding inside of him, making him gasp against Norway's mouth, shiver, spread out, not even sure who those fingers belong to. And soon Norway isn't kissing him any more; Norway is pressing him against the mattress, against the pillows, turning his head a bit until he's satisfied Hong Kong can see, and he tells him, Watch.
And he watches. Watches as Norway readies Iceland. Watches as he strokes his brother almost lovingly, kissing him while he does it, his long fingers gentle, slow-moving, and slick. Iceland moans against his brother's mouth, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment before he looks to Hong Kong, meets eyes with him. They stare at each other, flustered, unable to believe what they're doing but not about to stop. Then Norway draws away from Iceland, pushes him toward Hong Kong, and tells him, coolly, to take care of their guest.
Hong Kong rests back and takes it in and can't wonder how he found himself in this position because they don't let him wonder it, don't let him think, don't let him stop even for a minute to pause and consider anything beyond the pleasure. Beyond the moment. Beyond Iceland fucking him, his cock deep inside of him, gasping - moaning - whispering. Beyond Norway resting beside him, stroking him off while he strokes his hair and whispers things in his ear, low, soft, his lips brushing. Beyond the shortness of breath, the moans that Hong Kong tries to hold back, the slight jolt of pain as Norway bites down on his ear and then asks - no, orders him not to stifle them. Unable to resist that - this - any of it, Hong Kong gives in, tilts his head back, gasps as he rocks up against Iceland's cock, against Norway's hand, moans as he hears the both of them speaking to him, their voices mingling, working in time with their touches, their gestures, their bodies.
Under all this, Hong Kong can't last. He comes when he hears Iceland groaning his name, when he hears Norway whispering for him to go ahead, when he feels Iceland thrust himself deep inside of him, when Norway wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes him off tightly. He lets go, arches against the mattress, sees stars as he comes, moaning, breathless.
They rest together after all of it, after Iceland finishes, after they've both collapsed on the mattress next to Norway. They rest together in the warm evening light coming in from the open window, curled together, Norway kissing them both in turn, Iceland mumbling about how that was - I mean - it was really - thank you.
Hong Kong wonders, for a moment, as Iceland snuggles up next to him and Norway nuzzles against his neck, how on earth it got to this point.
He decides it doesn't matter.
The End
