I'll Love You When You're Ready [Prologue/?]
anonymous
October 25 2009, 19:55:19 UTC
Eh, well, I thought I would give this a go...but I must confess, I've never written a proper fanfic before let alone a consensual shota one...I apologize profusely if this is terrible/out of character/fullof mistakes/missing the mark completely.
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Ever since he could remember, Berwald had been a morning person. For centuries his sleeping habits had been regular enough to set a watch by - up at six, down at eleven for seven good solid hours of rest. So, when he spent his first night in over a hundred years staring at the same spot on the ceiling for six long hours and over-slept by three hours the next morning, he knew something as wrong. He'd never had much trouble sleeping before - his days were long and productive with rarely an idle moment, therefore sleep came easily to him as soon as his head hit the pillow. But then again, he'd never been in love before.
Berwald wasn't entirely sure when the trouble started again. His only warning was that first restless night, and then there came the gradual realization that he was completely, singularly and terrifyingly in love. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him soaked to the bone and more than a little confused. He'd loved Tino from the very moment he'd seen him of course, but it never occurred to the older nation that it could ever be anything more than a selfish desire - that he could ever be in love with him. For years Berwald has lusted, and Tino had violently spurred his advances time and time again until he simply stopped trying because it just hurt too much - his pride, his feelings, his body. They were closer now than they ever had been after a long peace, with a home and family and some sad little thing that was almost a working relationship, but the gap between them was still so entirely unbridgeable in his eyes. They had lived together for so long that he'd gotten 'used to' being around him, and had came to accept that thing were just the way they were. However, his jarring revelation had turned everything on it's head. Not only were his nights suffering, but so were his days - he took less and less pleasure in his work, and frequently found himself doing absolutely nothing at all; wandering aimlessly, staring blankly, sighing heavily and other such cliches. To make matters worse, Tino had definitely noticed something was wrong. He had been constantly on edge since it had all began, just like the old days - mistaking unrequited love for something certainly more sinister even though he was quite sure Berwald would never hurt him again.
I'll Love You When You're Ready [1/?]
anonymous
October 25 2009, 20:01:45 UTC
Bathed in mid-morning light, peeling vegetables by the kitchen sink and humming quite happily to himself, Tino looked like some sort of domestic angel haloed by the sunshine in his white-blonde hair. In a dozen pots and pans - bright copper and stainless steel polished to perfection - his half smile and lidded eyes were reflected with the light that made shimmering patterns on the ceiling and walls. Berwald knew his position just beyond the door frame was as yet undiscovered because he never looked so contented when they were together, and took some small comfort in the peaceful countenance of his wife. He wanted him to be happy, he wanted the world for him, but did Tino even have a clue? A leaden weight settled itself firmly on his broad shoulders, and he slumped against the wall as though it was too much for him. Still blissfully unaware of his quietly adoring audience, Tino lay down his peeler and instead went to pick up a wicked looking vegetable knife and a scarred chopping board from the worktop to his left. Immediately Berwald ducked from plain view - not wanting to be caught lurking in what was probably a very (accidentally) frightening manner - but peering round the door frame once more, his breath caught in his throat at what grabbed his attention. Head bowed, an inch or two of sweet pale skin was invitingly uncovered from beneath his loose cotton collar and Berwald was captivated. His heart skipped a beat and ached for him to stride across the kitchen and brand it with his lips as his property - all his. He knew he could if he wanted to, and he might have all those years ago before his love had tempered his lust. He wouldn't be met with much if any resistance, not anymore; but nor would he be met with a laugh and a smile, or an arch into that light touch as a small hand found his and what was the point then? It would only be more trouble than either of them cared for. More trouble than it was worth. Berwald almost missed those days of raking nails, bitten lips and bloody curses spat in language more lyrical than his own.
He cursed and composed himself, cheeks threatening to burn with the shame of getting so excited by the mere sight of skin. He adjusted the collar of his blandly blue shirt and took a deep breath before stepping almost confidently into the kitchen. Immediately Tino spun around, perhaps a little too quickly to be casual, and smiled brightly.
"Oh, good morning Su-san. You're up late again," he chirped, homely calm scattered to the wind. He moved to the stove-top with a bowl in his hand, and ladeled a generous portion of oatmeal into it before setting it down on the table, "Now, I didn't add salt to it this morning so you can have it with honey and milk for a change, if you would like."
"'S fine," came the grunted reply as Berwald pulled the bowl towards him and took the spoon that was presented with it.
"There's also some bilberries too, I picked them yesterday. They're not quite ripe yet but I'm sure with a little bit of h-"
"'S fine. Th'nk y'."
"Ah. Okay then. If you need anything..."
Berwald met his wife's expectant gaze as he took a large spoonful of oatmeal, as though to emphasize his point. Tino nodded once, and reluctantly turned back to preparing lunch now that he had been assured all was well with breakfast. Of course, without salt or milk or any other luxury it was little more than thick gruel but Berwald didn't care. It was delicious in it's own way. Delicious in Tino's way. He carefully took another spoonful, staring at the rim of the simple bowl to avoid staring at the bow of the simple apron, resting on the small of the other nation's back. Berwald cleared his throat slightly, making Tino look sharply over his shoulder.
I'll Love You When You're Ready [2/?]
anonymous
October 25 2009, 20:03:18 UTC
"Where's P'ter?" he asked, half to break the silence and half because he genuinely hadn't seen any sign of his son that morning.
"Oh yes, sorry, I forgot to mention that he's staying with Raivis tonight."
"Hm?"
"I-is that okay? He asked this morning while you were still sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb you..."
"Fine b'me," Berwald said with a shrug, smoothing the worried frown from Tino's brow. He was more concerned with how he fretted over something as simple as asking his permission when he was the boy's 'mother' after all. Still, there was a little movement in his wife's deliciate hands that told him that wasn't all that was troubling him. He sat his spoon down gently, "S'methin' wrong?"
"Oh! It's nothing, really..." he said at once, with a dismissive wave of his hand. However, he quickly wilted under Berwald's steady gaze, "It's just - well, it's just I'm a little bit worried."
"..."
"I mean, Peter's only young and so are Raivis and Eduard and - and what if something were to happen? After all, they are so close to Russia, and you know what he's like especally now Toris has left them. I-I should call him, tell him to come home for dinner or something..."
"It'll b'okay," Berwald said reassuringly, knowing full well that Tino's worries were well founded but couldn't stand to see him so distressed, "P'ter's a clever boy, 'nd Ravis 'nd Eduard're good 'nd kind. He's m'kin' new friends, he needs that. R'member, they're j'st across th' water. He'll b'fine, I promise."
"You're probably right. Yes, yes, Eduard is very trustworthy. Oh Su-san - I just can't help but worry about him sometimes, he's so small..."
"He's tougher th'n you or me anyway," he said, but his wife didn't look any happier. Tears pricked those bright eyes, and a pain twinged deep in his chest at the sight of them. He wished that he could have scooped him up and simply kissed away his concerns rather than fumbling with ungainly, clumsy words but once again he swallowed down his surging emotions with another spoonful of hot plain oatmeal. Tino blinked back the threat of tears and took a deep breath to regain composure, his small hands twisting fretfully in the clean white linen of his neat apron.
"I'm making köttsoppa for lunch," he said levelly - almost brightly again - as he turned back to his chopping board. Berwald nodded even though he couldn't be seen and wolfed down the last of his breakfast. He was certain it would be absolutely delicious as always but the less time he spent with Tino at that moment, the better. He stood quickly and excused himself before swiftly making his escape.
"Yes, I think those bilberries will make a lovely blåbärssoppa."
Berwald's step faultered at the door, just by the place he had been hiding before. He turned and stared at the narrow back of his spouse feeling desperately torn. He groped for something to do, anything short of ordering Peter home.
"I'll...I'll go phone Toris 'n' Feliks. Ask 'em to keep an eye 'n the boys. That'll be enough."
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Well that's all I have for now (I thought I had more, whoops). I hope it's okay, if you're enjoying it I'll post more soon-ish.
Re: I'll Love You When You're Ready [2/?]
anonymous
October 25 2009, 22:12:44 UTC
Oooh. This one's already got me absolutely hooked, and we're only halfway started. This tab stays up until the fill is finished, even if it takes forever.
I'll Love You When You're Ready [3/?]
anonymous
October 26 2009, 00:09:16 UTC
With leadened limbs, Berwald climbed the wooden stairs to the top floor of their cozy little house. He walked right past the first door to the one at the far end of the hallway, into a small room that was cold and bare but clean. In it, there were two single beds, a bedside table and a lamp . He lit the lamp and shed his clothes before falling gracelessly into whichever bed was closest, feeling exhausted but wide awake. Once again sleep was not going to come easily and could already feel his thoughts starting to tick over as he frowned at the ceiling. It had been a pleasant enough day in it's own new awkward way. After breakfast Berwald had thrown himself headfirst into a pile of paperwork and by lunchtime had finished all of it - even the stuff that didn't require his attention at all. Lunch itself was just as delicious as as he had predicted, and the stilted small talk about the economy as he desperately avoided eye contact could have been worse. After hurriedly clearing the table Berwald had locked himself in his workshop, industriously making more furniture to fill up their already too-full storage. When he reappeared hours later sore-backed and stiff, he found a note on the kitchen table, telling him his dinner was in the oven to keep it warm. A hot fluttering feeling had burst inside him then, and he could have cried from sheer frustration.
Berwald rolled onto his side. His glasses pressed uncomfortably into his face but he didn't care. He stared at the soft glow of a light from downstairs intruding beneath his door letting him know that Tino was still awake and probably would be for some time. Voices and the sound of laughter followed the light to intrude on his peace and he pressed his face further into the pillow. He was probably watching TV, or maybe he was on the phone to Jökull again. Or Lars, god curse that pasty eating moron. He could always make him laugh. Restlessly Berwald rolled onto his other side so he was facing way from the light and wondered if Tino would be in bed already if he knew he would be sleeping alone tonight. He couldn't bring himself to spend another night in such a cold bed, as far away for the other nation as possible without being on the floor. Heaven forbid he should accidentally roll over and throw a sleepy arm around the fitfully slumbering young man. Tino was always such a light sleeper - would a kiss wake him up? Not on the lips. The cheek maybe, or throat laid bare by tossing and turning. Yes, it probably would wake him up. Berwald could imagine those violet eyes wide and wild in the dark - he'd seen it a dozen times before in their early years of their tentative time together when neither trusted the other enough to sleep through every bump in the night. He had given him enough cause to be scared of the dark before they became man and wife, and after too. Sometimes Berwald couldn't help himself, conditioned by centuries of pillaging freely and that's why he couldn't trust himself around Tino anymore. How easy it would be to invade now with bodies softened and weapons blunted by an age of peace and prosperity, how sweet to raise the old standard again!
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Thanks for the positive feedback so far. I'm pretty nervous about this.
I'll Love You When You're Ready [4/?]
anonymous
October 26 2009, 00:12:35 UTC
Already Berwald was palming himself gently, half-hard and only getting harder as one hand gripped himself firmly and the other twisted in the sheets by his side. He had burned for Tino for as long as he could remember and was reduced to stroking himself with increasing urgency alone in the guest bedroom. He had only just begun, but already his breath was coming in light pants. He closed his eyes and imagined that it wasn't his hand, large and work-calloused but small and pale and almost delicate instead. Slowing down he loosened his grip, teasing himself with the slightest twist of his wrist and lightly brushing his thumb across the head with each stroke. A small groan escaped his lips. Yes, he wanted Tino's body - so lithe and so beautiful - more than he could ever say, almost as much as he wanted all the warm in that smile just for him. To melt away years of ice and uncertainty, there wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't give for just one hot kiss. Berwald's toes curled, and his knees jerked a little closer to his chest as he curled in on himself. His pace increased once more, and he tried to muffle his quiet sounds of pleasure with his free hand. It's all for you, he though, feeling the pleasure jolt though his body like electricity, Tino, oh god, it's all for you...fuck, I'm so close, Tino - Tino, I'm going t--
"...Papa?"
Berwald felt the mattress dip behind him before he even registered the small voice, filled with uncertainty. Immediately he stopped with every nerve in his body screaming at him to just keep going, and slowly half rolled over. His face was flushed and his shoulders were shaking slightly. He was even slightly out of breath. Peter was kneeling on the edge of his bed in his pajamas, looking slightly worried.
"Are you okay, pa?"
For a moment Berwald was at a loss for words to say. His mind was struggling to recover, but he was singularly aware that his young son had just walk in on his furiously masturbating. He prayed to god that the boy was still too young to figure out what he was doing.
"'M fine. Bad dream," he grunted dismissively. He rolled over properly and Peter seemed to take this as a sign to climb onto the bed beside him. Berwald was thankful the heavy blankets were thick enough to hide his stubborn erection, "What're y'doin' home? Thought y'were at Ravis's house?"
Re: I'll Love You When You're Ready [4/?]
anonymous
October 26 2009, 00:23:17 UTC
Auther!Anon here - oh dear, I just notice repeated "slightly" about a hundred times in that. That will teach me to post after midnight!
Some notes so far (just to clear up): köttsoppa - a type of stew blåbärssoppa - bilberry soup Jökull, Lars - Because I don't believe they have official names yet, this is Iceland and Denmark
Re: I'll Love You When You're Ready [4/?]
anonymous
October 27 2009, 15:15:10 UTC
Oh wow. Peter's appearance actually startled me. Do you know what it takes for a story to startle me these days? A lot.
My heart absolutely aches for Berwald, because I understand exactly what he feels like. Well...since I never lived in the viking ages, I've never made anyone afraid of me...but still. I just want to give him a gigantic hug.
Ah, Peter. Now the interesting part begins. My only hope for this fic is that it stays just as wonderful as it's been thus far...including the pacing. This is a story that needs time to build, I can tell, and I just love some delicious tension with my delicious fic.
All the above can be summed up in two words: Keep. Going.
--------------
Ever since he could remember, Berwald had been a morning person. For centuries his sleeping habits had been regular enough to set a watch by - up at six, down at eleven for seven good solid hours of rest. So, when he spent his first night in over a hundred years staring at the same spot on the ceiling for six long hours and over-slept by three hours the next morning, he knew something as wrong. He'd never had much trouble sleeping before - his days were long and productive with rarely an idle moment, therefore sleep came easily to him as soon as his head hit the pillow. But then again, he'd never been in love before.
Berwald wasn't entirely sure when the trouble started again. His only warning was that first restless night, and then there came the gradual realization that he was completely, singularly and terrifyingly in love. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him soaked to the bone and more than a little confused. He'd loved Tino from the very moment he'd seen him of course, but it never occurred to the older nation that it could ever be anything more than a selfish desire - that he could ever be in love with him. For years Berwald has lusted, and Tino had violently spurred his advances time and time again until he simply stopped trying because it just hurt too much - his pride, his feelings, his body. They were closer now than they ever had been after a long peace, with a home and family and some sad little thing that was almost a working relationship, but the gap between them was still so entirely unbridgeable in his eyes. They had lived together for so long that he'd gotten 'used to' being around him, and had came to accept that thing were just the way they were. However, his jarring revelation had turned everything on it's head. Not only were his nights suffering, but so were his days - he took less and less pleasure in his work, and frequently found himself doing absolutely nothing at all; wandering aimlessly, staring blankly, sighing heavily and other such cliches. To make matters worse, Tino had definitely noticed something was wrong. He had been constantly on edge since it had all began, just like the old days - mistaking unrequited love for something certainly more sinister even though he was quite sure Berwald would never hurt him again.
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Bathed in mid-morning light, peeling vegetables by the kitchen sink and humming quite happily to himself, Tino looked like some sort of domestic angel haloed by the sunshine in his white-blonde hair. In a dozen pots and pans - bright copper and stainless steel polished to perfection - his half smile and lidded eyes were reflected with the light that made shimmering patterns on the ceiling and walls. Berwald knew his position just beyond the door frame was as yet undiscovered because he never looked so contented when they were together, and took some small comfort in the peaceful countenance of his wife. He wanted him to be happy, he wanted the world for him, but did Tino even have a clue? A leaden weight settled itself firmly on his broad shoulders, and he slumped against the wall as though it was too much for him. Still blissfully unaware of his quietly adoring audience, Tino lay down his peeler and instead went to pick up a wicked looking vegetable knife and a scarred chopping board from the worktop to his left. Immediately Berwald ducked from plain view - not wanting to be caught lurking in what was probably a very (accidentally) frightening manner - but peering round the door frame once more, his breath caught in his throat at what grabbed his attention. Head bowed, an inch or two of sweet pale skin was invitingly uncovered from beneath his loose cotton collar and Berwald was captivated. His heart skipped a beat and ached for him to stride across the kitchen and brand it with his lips as his property - all his. He knew he could if he wanted to, and he might have all those years ago before his love had tempered his lust. He wouldn't be met with much if any resistance, not anymore; but nor would he be met with a laugh and a smile, or an arch into that light touch as a small hand found his and what was the point then? It would only be more trouble than either of them cared for. More trouble than it was worth. Berwald almost missed those days of raking nails, bitten lips and bloody curses spat in language more lyrical than his own.
He cursed and composed himself, cheeks threatening to burn with the shame of getting so excited by the mere sight of skin. He adjusted the collar of his blandly blue shirt and took a deep breath before stepping almost confidently into the kitchen. Immediately Tino spun around, perhaps a little too quickly to be casual, and smiled brightly.
"Oh, good morning Su-san. You're up late again," he chirped, homely calm scattered to the wind. He moved to the stove-top with a bowl in his hand, and ladeled a generous portion of oatmeal into it before setting it down on the table, "Now, I didn't add salt to it this morning so you can have it with honey and milk for a change, if you would like."
"'S fine," came the grunted reply as Berwald pulled the bowl towards him and took the spoon that was presented with it.
"There's also some bilberries too, I picked them yesterday. They're not quite ripe yet but I'm sure with a little bit of h-"
"'S fine. Th'nk y'."
"Ah. Okay then. If you need anything..."
Berwald met his wife's expectant gaze as he took a large spoonful of oatmeal, as though to emphasize his point. Tino nodded once, and reluctantly turned back to preparing lunch now that he had been assured all was well with breakfast. Of course, without salt or milk or any other luxury it was little more than thick gruel but Berwald didn't care. It was delicious in it's own way. Delicious in Tino's way. He carefully took another spoonful, staring at the rim of the simple bowl to avoid staring at the bow of the simple apron, resting on the small of the other nation's back. Berwald cleared his throat slightly, making Tino look sharply over his shoulder.
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"Where's P'ter?" he asked, half to break the silence and half because he genuinely hadn't seen any sign of his son that morning.
"Oh yes, sorry, I forgot to mention that he's staying with Raivis tonight."
"Hm?"
"I-is that okay? He asked this morning while you were still sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb you..."
"Fine b'me," Berwald said with a shrug, smoothing the worried frown from Tino's brow. He was more concerned with how he fretted over something as simple as asking his permission when he was the boy's 'mother' after all. Still, there was a little movement in his wife's deliciate hands that told him that wasn't all that was troubling him. He sat his spoon down gently, "S'methin' wrong?"
"Oh! It's nothing, really..." he said at once, with a dismissive wave of his hand. However, he quickly wilted under Berwald's steady gaze, "It's just - well, it's just I'm a little bit worried."
"..."
"I mean, Peter's only young and so are Raivis and Eduard and - and what if something were to happen? After all, they are so close to Russia, and you know what he's like especally now Toris has left them. I-I should call him, tell him to come home for dinner or something..."
"It'll b'okay," Berwald said reassuringly, knowing full well that Tino's worries were well founded but couldn't stand to see him so distressed, "P'ter's a clever boy, 'nd Ravis 'nd Eduard're good 'nd kind. He's m'kin' new friends, he needs that. R'member, they're j'st across th' water. He'll b'fine, I promise."
"You're probably right. Yes, yes, Eduard is very trustworthy. Oh Su-san - I just can't help but worry about him sometimes, he's so small..."
"He's tougher th'n you or me anyway," he said, but his wife didn't look any happier. Tears pricked those bright eyes, and a pain twinged deep in his chest at the sight of them. He wished that he could have scooped him up and simply kissed away his concerns rather than fumbling with ungainly, clumsy words but once again he swallowed down his surging emotions with another spoonful of hot plain oatmeal. Tino blinked back the threat of tears and took a deep breath to regain composure, his small hands twisting fretfully in the clean white linen of his neat apron.
"I'm making köttsoppa for lunch," he said levelly - almost brightly again - as he turned back to his chopping board. Berwald nodded even though he couldn't be seen and wolfed down the last of his breakfast. He was certain it would be absolutely delicious as always but the less time he spent with Tino at that moment, the better. He stood quickly and excused himself before swiftly making his escape.
"Yes, I think those bilberries will make a lovely blåbärssoppa."
Berwald's step faultered at the door, just by the place he had been hiding before. He turned and stared at the narrow back of his spouse feeling desperately torn. He groped for something to do, anything short of ordering Peter home.
"I'll...I'll go phone Toris 'n' Feliks. Ask 'em to keep an eye 'n the boys. That'll be enough."
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Well that's all I have for now (I thought I had more, whoops). I hope it's okay, if you're enjoying it I'll post more soon-ish.
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Berwald rolled onto his side. His glasses pressed uncomfortably into his face but he didn't care. He stared at the soft glow of a light from downstairs intruding beneath his door letting him know that Tino was still awake and probably would be for some time. Voices and the sound of laughter followed the light to intrude on his peace and he pressed his face further into the pillow. He was probably watching TV, or maybe he was on the phone to Jökull again. Or Lars, god curse that pasty eating moron. He could always make him laugh. Restlessly Berwald rolled onto his other side so he was facing way from the light and wondered if Tino would be in bed already if he knew he would be sleeping alone tonight. He couldn't bring himself to spend another night in such a cold bed, as far away for the other nation as possible without being on the floor. Heaven forbid he should accidentally roll over and throw a sleepy arm around the fitfully slumbering young man. Tino was always such a light sleeper - would a kiss wake him up? Not on the lips. The cheek maybe, or throat laid bare by tossing and turning. Yes, it probably would wake him up. Berwald could imagine those violet eyes wide and wild in the dark - he'd seen it a dozen times before in their early years of their tentative time together when neither trusted the other enough to sleep through every bump in the night. He had given him enough cause to be scared of the dark before they became man and wife, and after too. Sometimes Berwald couldn't help himself, conditioned by centuries of pillaging freely and that's why he couldn't trust himself around Tino anymore. How easy it would be to invade now with bodies softened and weapons blunted by an age of peace and prosperity, how sweet to raise the old standard again!
------------------
Thanks for the positive feedback so far. I'm pretty nervous about this.
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"...Papa?"
Berwald felt the mattress dip behind him before he even registered the small voice, filled with uncertainty. Immediately he stopped with every nerve in his body screaming at him to just keep going, and slowly half rolled over. His face was flushed and his shoulders were shaking slightly. He was even slightly out of breath. Peter was kneeling on the edge of his bed in his pajamas, looking slightly worried.
"Are you okay, pa?"
For a moment Berwald was at a loss for words to say. His mind was struggling to recover, but he was singularly aware that his young son had just walk in on his furiously masturbating. He prayed to god that the boy was still too young to figure out what he was doing.
"'M fine. Bad dream," he grunted dismissively. He rolled over properly and Peter seemed to take this as a sign to climb onto the bed beside him. Berwald was thankful the heavy blankets were thick enough to hide his stubborn erection, "What're y'doin' home? Thought y'were at Ravis's house?"
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Some notes so far (just to clear up):
köttsoppa - a type of stew
blåbärssoppa - bilberry soup
Jökull, Lars - Because I don't believe they have official names yet, this is Iceland and Denmark
Sleep now, try and post more tomorrow.
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Keep up the good work.
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My heart absolutely aches for Berwald, because I understand exactly what he feels like. Well...since I never lived in the viking ages, I've never made anyone afraid of me...but still. I just want to give him a gigantic hug.
Ah, Peter. Now the interesting part begins. My only hope for this fic is that it stays just as wonderful as it's been thus far...including the pacing. This is a story that needs time to build, I can tell, and I just love some delicious tension with my delicious fic.
All the above can be summed up in two words: Keep. Going.
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Beside I totally understand his frustration. It's never funny to feel like this. :'(
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