fill [1/?]
anonymous
January 30 2010, 04:24:30 UTC
Well since it looks like the other fills on this wont be finished and I really love Nor/Ice and Den/Nor I'll give it a shot.
It's a quiet evening. Norway is feeling ill at ease despite the constant mask of calmness that never seems to leave his face. It's only been a few days since Sweden escaped with Finland and the Dane is still in a terrible mood. It's not like Norway cares about his self-proclaimed husband's sulking, because really, how could anyone be dumb enough to think Sweden would stick around after regaining his strength? But the fact that Denmark has been leaving the house every day only to return drunk late at night is something the Norwegian doesn't appreciate in the slightest. Will tonight be the same? Will he even return in one piece?
He leans his head against the window frame and sighs. He can't blame Sweden for leaving. Norway wishes to get his independence back too, but he's held back. A small part of it might be that he doesn't want to hurt Denmark, and he's still weak after the plague even if it faded away years ago, but more importantly he might be forced to leave Iceland behind if he goes. The boy is precious to him, and he has been ever since he first found the little fair-haired child on a lone island. He clearly remembers how those big ocean blue eyes looked up at him with curiosity and a slight stubbornness. There was something about those eyes that made him decide this new nation would be his little brother. The child is growing up now. His appearance has changed into that of a human in his late teens.
Norway moves from his spot by the window and heads for the couch where said teen sits indulged in one of his sagas. Iceland pauses and looks up with a small, sweet smile as the Norwegian sits down beside him. Soon they huddle closer. Both appear distant to anyone else, but they don't mind showing affection towards each other. Iceland touches his hand, briefly caressing his palm before enlacing their fingers. They exchange glances, but then the youngest flushes and looks away. "Honestly... I hope Denmark doesn't return," he mumbles. Norway's eyes narrow.
"Has he done anything to you?"
"It's about what he does to you."
The blonde reaches up and pushes away a few strands of hair from Iceland's face "It's fine," he says soothingly "he doesn't force me". Sometimes Denmark will use force, kiss him and touch him while he doesn't want it, but he doesn't go further than that unless Norway gives in and kisses back.
"You like it then?" Iceland asks, voice shaking "You like it when he f... when he takes you?"
He looks so lost then, Norway feels a lump of guilt form in his throat. He quickly cups his brother's cheeks and places a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Something has changed between them lately. They're ashamed. Norway as he leans in for another kiss, and Iceland as he accepts and wraps his arms around him to urge him on. They don't kiss like brothers anymore. Those small innocent pecks have turned into something entirely different as lips part and tongues meet. The book slides off Iceland's lap and falls to the floor with a loud thump, but none of them pay attention to it. They're too occupied exploring each other's mouths. Slowly the youngest one starts leaning back. Norway gets on top of him, hands starting to wander over and beneath his shirt. He tries to tell himself there's nothing bad about it. But eventually Iceland is pitching a tent, whimpering and shuddering beneath him. And even if no words are exchanged he knows what he's being asked to do. Reluctantly his hands go lower until they find the bulge forming in the boy's pants. His fingers run slowly over the fabric, making Iceland pant and squirm. It's the most intimate he dares to touch him. If he crosses this limit then how much further will they go? Iceland clutches the back of his shirt and lets out several gasps and moans. It has always been an issue that he gets loud, but for once Norway doesn't try to silence him. There's nobody else in the house. And honestly... he likes to hear it.
It's a quiet evening. Norway is feeling ill at ease despite the constant mask of calmness that never seems to leave his face. It's only been a few days since Sweden escaped with Finland and the Dane is still in a terrible mood. It's not like Norway cares about his self-proclaimed husband's sulking, because really, how could anyone be dumb enough to think Sweden would stick around after regaining his strength? But the fact that Denmark has been leaving the house every day only to return drunk late at night is something the Norwegian doesn't appreciate in the slightest. Will tonight be the same? Will he even return in one piece?
He leans his head against the window frame and sighs. He can't blame Sweden for leaving. Norway wishes to get his independence back too, but he's held back. A small part of it might be that he doesn't want to hurt Denmark, and he's still weak after the plague even if it faded away years ago, but more importantly he might be forced to leave Iceland behind if he goes. The boy is precious to him, and he has been ever since he first found the little fair-haired child on a lone island. He clearly remembers how those big ocean blue eyes looked up at him with curiosity and a slight stubbornness. There was something about those eyes that made him decide this new nation would be his little brother. The child is growing up now. His appearance has changed into that of a human in his late teens.
Norway moves from his spot by the window and heads for the couch where said teen sits indulged in one of his sagas. Iceland pauses and looks up with a small, sweet smile as the Norwegian sits down beside him. Soon they huddle closer. Both appear distant to anyone else, but they don't mind showing affection towards each other. Iceland touches his hand, briefly caressing his palm before enlacing their fingers. They exchange glances, but then the youngest flushes and looks away. "Honestly... I hope Denmark doesn't return," he mumbles. Norway's eyes narrow.
"Has he done anything to you?"
"It's about what he does to you."
The blonde reaches up and pushes away a few strands of hair from Iceland's face "It's fine," he says soothingly "he doesn't force me". Sometimes Denmark will use force, kiss him and touch him while he doesn't want it, but he doesn't go further than that unless Norway gives in and kisses back.
"You like it then?" Iceland asks, voice shaking "You like it when he f... when he takes you?"
He looks so lost then, Norway feels a lump of guilt form in his throat. He quickly cups his brother's cheeks and places a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Something has changed between them lately. They're ashamed. Norway as he leans in for another kiss, and Iceland as he accepts and wraps his arms around him to urge him on. They don't kiss like brothers anymore. Those small innocent pecks have turned into something entirely different as lips part and tongues meet. The book slides off Iceland's lap and falls to the floor with a loud thump, but none of them pay attention to it. They're too occupied exploring each other's mouths. Slowly the youngest one starts leaning back. Norway gets on top of him, hands starting to wander over and beneath his shirt. He tries to tell himself there's nothing bad about it. But eventually Iceland is pitching a tent, whimpering and shuddering beneath him. And even if no words are exchanged he knows what he's being asked to do. Reluctantly his hands go lower until they find the bulge forming in the boy's pants. His fingers run slowly over the fabric, making Iceland pant and squirm. It's the most intimate he dares to touch him. If he crosses this limit then how much further will they go? Iceland clutches the back of his shirt and lets out several gasps and moans. It has always been an issue that he gets loud, but for once Norway doesn't try to silence him. There's nobody else in the house. And honestly... he likes to hear it.
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(I like that Norway said he wasn't forced, btw. You've captured my heart.)
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