Snow, sometimes (1/2)
anonymous
August 7 2009, 11:59:55 UTC
“Think she likes ya. Doesn’t jus’ roll ova fer nobody, yer know.”
“Mm.”
“You own a dog, eh?”
“Mm.”
“Terrier or somethin’, I bet. Though you’ve gotta few of ‘em- what d’ya call ‘em, again? - Vallhunds?”
“’G’ss I d’. F’n’l’n’ f’ds h’m.”
A cocky smirk splits his browned face. He lowers his hand down the side of the bed and tugs the Kelpie’s tail with two fingers. She doubles over, indignant and flashing her canine grin, nosing the long white fingers on her other side.
Sweden smiles, barely. Australia rolls over and laughs himself silly, a dog lounging in the light.
It’s a young sound, impulsive and reckless. It’s something Berwald doesn’t hear much of anymore. He remembers warmth in furs and Viking halls. Now, trade and serious business behind glasses, he thinks he likes it.
Finland laughs like snowflakes, light and small and delicate as they tumble through the air. This man’s voice is warm, unforgivingly so- he laughs an entire burning sun. Gravity like a Super Nova. Probably excessive. Sweden doesn’t say this though, not while he can feel the heat radiating from Australia’s digits as they peer out off the bed and out onto the summer outside the veranda.
It’s 42 degrees Celsius today, and Sweden can feel it in the pulse at Australia’s neck. Sex with him is a dry affair- saliva cools and evaporates in an instant.
As Sweden thinks and keeps his mouth shut against the cold, his host stretches one arm up over his head. “You thirsty?”
“..Nn.” The muscles of Australia’s upper body make a quick twist and he rises naked from the bed into the late morning sunlight. The dog watches Berwald’s eyes watching her master’s back leave on the other side of his glasses.
He wonders idly as he flicks his gaze at her blackbrown body soaking up the sun on the porch if Finland has kept Hanatamago from tracking snow in the hall. Also, solar energy. Uranium deals and alternate energy. Pick up Sealand from his geographical father’s on the way back home.
Buy milk and souvenirs.
A bottle hits the side of his face and the beer gets in the way of Australia’s white-hot grin. He grasps it to move it aside, and there, it’s warm again. The glass frosts over at his fingers.
The bed rocks and he’s back again under the sheet and maddening presence under his skin in waves of energy (Nuclear. Heat energy). “Fuck,” Australia breathes, pressing his torso closer to his back and squeezing his eyes shut at the shiver that run through him. “You’re bloody amazin’.”
It’s not love- it’s the heat around them, like the cold that drives people to share blankets. It’s the sum of the differences, age and voice and interests. It’s 3 degrees Celsius today, and it shows in the raised hairs of Australia’s arms as they wrap around his muscled waist.
“Try it- China came over th’ other day.” He applies ruddy cheeks to Sweden’s icy shoulders and lets out a small moan. “Got pissed off his face on it. On beer. Poor old fart.”
That’s right. He’s popular now, and he’s prompting him, gently, good naturedly. Berwald silently takes a swig and it fills him with a spreading warmth. Australia slides slick hot against his hip as he leans forward to lick the trail of beer at the corner of Sweden’s lips. He freezes cold; Australia’s saliva burns where it touches him, and then he’s pulled back down towards the sun as he kisses him.
For what he has in enthusiasm and force Australia lacks in finesse- not that he cares, because Finland is precise and forgiving and cool. The beer in Sweden’s mouth is cold but his mouth and lips and tongue are colder still, like icypoles on sticks, hard and wet and cool against the roof of his mouth like-
Australia’s already erect again. Sweden feels the unstoppable heat naked behind him between his thighs and arse and thinks he hears something melting as he responds and perhaps goes down one last time.
Snow, sometimes (2/2)
anonymous
August 7 2009, 12:10:43 UTC
Afterwards the dog sniffs at the empty bottle on the floorboards. Australia scolds her with a curse as he pulls Berwald down by the neck to rest his forehead against his clavicle. “How’s Sealan’ nowadays?”
“…G’d.”
A pause. Low pressure patterns. Then-
“What does Englan’ call this sorta thing? Long distance relationships or what?” Sweden shrugs, the movement sliding his shoulders against Australia’s side. The bitch licks at her belly under the table opposite them.
“Well, why not?” he lets out after a moment, staring up at the ceiling with a stupid, warm grin on his face.
The Royals will be back from their tour of Canberra soon, and he is yet to buy his wife a souvenir, Sweden reminds himself. Then he looks sideways down at the younger man tangled in the cool cotton sheets and only the humidity all around them, and he forgets the rest.
Why not? Australia repeats it softly against his lips with his tongue in his mouth, again ‘why not’ through his burning fingers tangled in his hair, the heat in his boiling blood, half a world and two inches away from him, again, again, hot hot hot and cold-
It’s winter in Stockholm, and the children shake snow from their school shoes.
Finland and Sealand are drinking hot cocoa.
“The bed’s from IKEA, yer know. Strongest damn thing ‘n the world.” Sweden pauses, breath ghosting over the underside of Australia’s chin. The cold sends the warmest sort of chills up and down his nerves. “Spent all of bloody last summer screwin’ Arthur over durin’ the Ashes, an’ the headboard didn’t give a peep.”
“ ’s what ‘ts f’r,” Sweden chuckles out lowly, expression not changing in the slightest.
Sweden on top, Australia Down under, they’re skin-close. Far, but fruitful. Australia laughs; it’s summer in Canberra.
Outside, the weather’s fine.
- Ok, I think is possibly the crackiest pairing I have ever written, but it makes real life SENSE.
Did you know?
In 2008, Australia's two way merchandise trade with Sweden totalled A$3.2 billion (ranked 25th). Australian merchandise exports to Sweden totalled A$629 million. These included coal (A$395 million) and alcoholic beverages (A$39 million). Imports from Sweden totalled A$2.6 billion and included medicaments (A$408 million) and civil engineering equipment and parts (A$181 million).
Australia provides uranium to Sweden which provides 50% of its electrical power, and 27% of Finland's.
Their Majesties King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia of Sweden visited Australia in November 2005. King Gustaf said that both countries "are like-minded in many ways. It is hard to imagine two countries so far apart and geographically different. Still we have close bonds and enjoy fruitful cooperation."
Approximately 30,000 Swedish tourists visit Australia each year.
Re: Snow, sometimes (2/2)
anonymous
August 7 2009, 14:31:32 UTC
I was a little bit suspect looking at the fill-post, but I figured why not. And you know what? I should read cracktastic pairings more often. The kinds of people who pick the cracktastic pairings tend to carry it off well.
The dialogue in this piece is - I can't say the strongest part, because I think it's all strong - but so realistic that I was immediately aware that these were people talking, and talking naturally.
if Finland has kept Hanatamago from tracking snow in the hall. I was actually quite uncomfortable with this line, but in a good way. (I get really freaked out by characters having affairs) - in that, yes, Sweden has this space here with Australia, and he has a life with Finland, and there doesn't seem to be any reason to avoid or be ashamed of either. Which I'm glad you pulled off.
Re: Snow, sometimes (2/2)
anonymous
August 7 2009, 21:46:31 UTC
I could love this fill just for using the term "geographical father", and in addition it has good characterisation, lovely imagery and delicious smutty references. ;) Well done with such a cracky pairing, anon!
“Mm.”
“You own a dog, eh?”
“Mm.”
“Terrier or somethin’, I bet. Though you’ve gotta few of ‘em- what d’ya call ‘em, again? - Vallhunds?”
“’G’ss I d’. F’n’l’n’ f’ds h’m.”
A cocky smirk splits his browned face. He lowers his hand down the side of the bed and tugs the Kelpie’s tail with two fingers. She doubles over, indignant and flashing her canine grin, nosing the long white fingers on her other side.
Sweden smiles, barely. Australia rolls over and laughs himself silly, a dog lounging in the light.
It’s a young sound, impulsive and reckless. It’s something Berwald doesn’t hear much of anymore. He remembers warmth in furs and Viking halls. Now, trade and serious business behind glasses, he thinks he likes it.
Finland laughs like snowflakes, light and small and delicate as they tumble through the air. This man’s voice is warm, unforgivingly so- he laughs an entire burning sun. Gravity like a Super Nova. Probably excessive. Sweden doesn’t say this though, not while he can feel the heat radiating from Australia’s digits as they peer out off the bed and out onto the summer outside the veranda.
It’s 42 degrees Celsius today, and Sweden can feel it in the pulse at Australia’s neck. Sex with him is a dry affair- saliva cools and evaporates in an instant.
As Sweden thinks and keeps his mouth shut against the cold, his host stretches one arm up over his head. “You thirsty?”
“..Nn.” The muscles of Australia’s upper body make a quick twist and he rises naked from the bed into the late morning sunlight. The dog watches Berwald’s eyes watching her master’s back leave on the other side of his glasses.
He wonders idly as he flicks his gaze at her blackbrown body soaking up the sun on the porch if Finland has kept Hanatamago from tracking snow in the hall. Also, solar energy. Uranium deals and alternate energy. Pick up Sealand from his geographical father’s on the way back home.
Buy milk and souvenirs.
A bottle hits the side of his face and the beer gets in the way of Australia’s white-hot grin. He grasps it to move it aside, and there, it’s warm again. The glass frosts over at his fingers.
The bed rocks and he’s back again under the sheet and maddening presence under his skin in waves of energy (Nuclear. Heat energy). “Fuck,” Australia breathes, pressing his torso closer to his back and squeezing his eyes shut at the shiver that run through him. “You’re bloody amazin’.”
It’s not love- it’s the heat around them, like the cold that drives people to share blankets. It’s the sum of the differences, age and voice and interests. It’s 3 degrees Celsius today, and it shows in the raised hairs of Australia’s arms as they wrap around his muscled waist.
“Try it- China came over th’ other day.” He applies ruddy cheeks to Sweden’s icy shoulders and lets out a small moan. “Got pissed off his face on it. On beer. Poor old fart.”
That’s right. He’s popular now, and he’s prompting him, gently, good naturedly. Berwald silently takes a swig and it fills him with a spreading warmth. Australia slides slick hot against his hip as he leans forward to lick the trail of beer at the corner of Sweden’s lips. He freezes cold; Australia’s saliva burns where it touches him, and then he’s pulled back down towards the sun as he kisses him.
For what he has in enthusiasm and force Australia lacks in finesse- not that he cares, because Finland is precise and forgiving and cool. The beer in Sweden’s mouth is cold but his mouth and lips and tongue are colder still, like icypoles on sticks, hard and wet and cool against the roof of his mouth like-
Australia’s already erect again. Sweden feels the unstoppable heat naked behind him between his thighs and arse and thinks he hears something melting as he responds and perhaps goes down one last time.
-
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“…G’d.”
A pause. Low pressure patterns. Then-
“What does Englan’ call this sorta thing? Long distance relationships or what?” Sweden shrugs, the movement sliding his shoulders against Australia’s side. The bitch licks at her belly under the table opposite them.
“Well, why not?” he lets out after a moment, staring up at the ceiling with a stupid, warm grin on his face.
The Royals will be back from their tour of Canberra soon, and he is yet to buy his wife a souvenir, Sweden reminds himself. Then he looks sideways down at the younger man tangled in the cool cotton sheets and only the humidity all around them, and he forgets the rest.
Why not? Australia repeats it softly against his lips with his tongue in his mouth, again ‘why not’ through his burning fingers tangled in his hair, the heat in his boiling blood, half a world and two inches away from him, again, again, hot hot hot and cold-
It’s winter in Stockholm, and the children shake snow from their school shoes.
Finland and Sealand are drinking hot cocoa.
“The bed’s from IKEA, yer know. Strongest damn thing ‘n the world.” Sweden pauses, breath ghosting over the underside of Australia’s chin. The cold sends the warmest sort of chills up and down his nerves. “Spent all of bloody last summer screwin’ Arthur over durin’ the Ashes, an’ the headboard didn’t give a peep.”
“ ’s what ‘ts f’r,” Sweden chuckles out lowly, expression not changing in the slightest.
Sweden on top, Australia Down under, they’re skin-close. Far, but fruitful. Australia laughs; it’s summer in Canberra.
Outside, the weather’s fine.
-
Ok, I think is possibly the crackiest pairing I have ever written, but it makes real life SENSE.
Did you know?
In 2008, Australia's two way merchandise trade with Sweden totalled A$3.2 billion (ranked 25th). Australian merchandise exports to Sweden totalled A$629 million. These included coal (A$395 million) and alcoholic beverages (A$39 million). Imports from Sweden totalled A$2.6 billion and included medicaments (A$408 million) and civil engineering equipment and parts (A$181 million).
Australia provides uranium to Sweden which provides 50% of its electrical power, and 27% of Finland's.
Their Majesties King Carl XVI Gustaf and Queen Silvia of Sweden visited Australia in November 2005. King Gustaf said that both countries "are like-minded in many ways. It is hard to imagine two countries so far apart and geographically different. Still we have close bonds and enjoy fruitful cooperation."
Approximately 30,000 Swedish tourists visit Australia each year.
OMGWTFBBQOTP??!! ROFL! ^^;
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The dialogue in this piece is - I can't say the strongest part, because I think it's all strong - but so realistic that I was immediately aware that these were people talking, and talking naturally.
if Finland has kept Hanatamago from tracking snow in the hall.
I was actually quite uncomfortable with this line, but in a good way. (I get really freaked out by characters having affairs) - in that, yes, Sweden has this space here with Australia, and he has a life with Finland, and there doesn't seem to be any reason to avoid or be ashamed of either. Which I'm glad you pulled off.
“ ’s what ‘ts f’r,”
It would be! =DDD
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