[Part 12][Threshold][fem!Sweden/fem!Finland][2/15]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 07:01:55 UTC
“I just don’t understand,” Finland finally speaks up. Sweden opens her mouth to respond, but the other Nation waves a hand for quiet. “Not just today, but…we’ve been in the same house one way or another for hundreds of years. Why can’t you ever share things with me?” It seems some sort of mental dam has broken inside Finland as she goes on, mistaking Sweden’s stunned silence for her normal one. Her face is reddening steadily as a sunrise, violet eyes flashing with emotions repressed for who knew how long. “I-I just want to share your burdens, Sve, but you always keep things to yourself, and…and you never even touch me-”
“T-touch y’?” Sweden chokes, utterly lost. She’s beginning to seriously think she’s dreaming now, because there’s no way Finland would ever say what she just did, especially if she’s referring to that kind of touching.
“You call me your wife, but not once have you…” Finland’s voice is more subdued now, as if letting all those emotions in one burst cooled her down. She’s still blushing rather hard, though, and it’s something Sweden would find extremely cute if she wasn’t so occupied with her own crippling embarrassment. “I mean, I was nervous at first when we started sharing a bed, but it’s been almost a hundred years now and we haven’t done anything-” As if aware she is babbling, Finland snaps her mouth shut abruptly, looking away from Sweden.
There’s an awkward tension in the room, and for the life of her Sweden has no idea how to make things better. Her mind is swimming in a sea of confusion and turbulent emotion, and it’s taking everything she has not to drown.
“Sv…Sweden?” Finland asks in a hesitant tone. It’s rather jarring to be called by her full name-something Finland hasn’t done for hundreds of years now-and the sound of it is just wrong to her ears. “I’m sorry if I…assumed things I shouldn’t have.” She stands up, biting her lip hard in a way that tells Sweden she’s barely keeping her composure. “I’ll just go and-”
Sweden’s hand shoots out so fast to grasp Finland’s it surprises even her. Or at least it would if she was thinking about anything except keeping her wife from leaving. The smaller nation lets out a little squeak as she finds herself pulled onto Sweden’s lap, eyes wide and face prettily flushed.
“O-ohyaaa…w-what are you-” Finland stammers, her chest heaving in a rather enticing way.
“Sve,” Sweden cuts her off, adjusting her hold so her arms are gently keeping Finland in place. At the confused stare she gets she continues, “Feels wrong f’r you t’call me anythin’ else.”
The way Finland’s eyes go so soft and warm at that heats her from head to toe like fine, heady wine. She’s just beautiful like that, always so impossibly lovely Sweden could lose herself in gazing at her, but there are important things that need to be said before she can indulge in that. “As f’r t’…t’ching…didn’t know y’wanted t’.”
“Oh…I…I really do, Sve.” Finland’s gone straight from rosy pink to brilliant crimson by this point. She pauses, seemingly working up the nerve for something. Her arms slip around Sweden’s neck, and before she knows it their mouths are merged together, hard and urgent. It’s clumsy like Finland doesn’t quite know what she’s doing, and the angle is a little uncomfortable. But none of that really matters, not when Sweden’s been dreaming of this for so long and thought it would never come true. She lifts one hand up to cup Finland’s smooth neck, the other pressing against the small of her back to pull her closer. The other Nation makes a little noise at that before slanting her mouth against Sweden’s, and somehow it makes things perfect. There is no partnership like theirs once they find their equilibrium, and it seems that even applies to things like this.
“T-touch y’?” Sweden chokes, utterly lost. She’s beginning to seriously think she’s dreaming now, because there’s no way Finland would ever say what she just did, especially if she’s referring to that kind of touching.
“You call me your wife, but not once have you…” Finland’s voice is more subdued now, as if letting all those emotions in one burst cooled her down. She’s still blushing rather hard, though, and it’s something Sweden would find extremely cute if she wasn’t so occupied with her own crippling embarrassment. “I mean, I was nervous at first when we started sharing a bed, but it’s been almost a hundred years now and we haven’t done anything-” As if aware she is babbling, Finland snaps her mouth shut abruptly, looking away from Sweden.
There’s an awkward tension in the room, and for the life of her Sweden has no idea how to make things better. Her mind is swimming in a sea of confusion and turbulent emotion, and it’s taking everything she has not to drown.
“Sv…Sweden?” Finland asks in a hesitant tone. It’s rather jarring to be called by her full name-something Finland hasn’t done for hundreds of years now-and the sound of it is just wrong to her ears. “I’m sorry if I…assumed things I shouldn’t have.” She stands up, biting her lip hard in a way that tells Sweden she’s barely keeping her composure. “I’ll just go and-”
Sweden’s hand shoots out so fast to grasp Finland’s it surprises even her. Or at least it would if she was thinking about anything except keeping her wife from leaving. The smaller nation lets out a little squeak as she finds herself pulled onto Sweden’s lap, eyes wide and face prettily flushed.
“O-ohyaaa…w-what are you-” Finland stammers, her chest heaving in a rather enticing way.
“Sve,” Sweden cuts her off, adjusting her hold so her arms are gently keeping Finland in place. At the confused stare she gets she continues, “Feels wrong f’r you t’call me anythin’ else.”
The way Finland’s eyes go so soft and warm at that heats her from head to toe like fine, heady wine. She’s just beautiful like that, always so impossibly lovely Sweden could lose herself in gazing at her, but there are important things that need to be said before she can indulge in that. “As f’r t’…t’ching…didn’t know y’wanted t’.”
“Oh…I…I really do, Sve.” Finland’s gone straight from rosy pink to brilliant crimson by this point. She pauses, seemingly working up the nerve for something. Her arms slip around Sweden’s neck, and before she knows it their mouths are merged together, hard and urgent. It’s clumsy like Finland doesn’t quite know what she’s doing, and the angle is a little uncomfortable. But none of that really matters, not when Sweden’s been dreaming of this for so long and thought it would never come true. She lifts one hand up to cup Finland’s smooth neck, the other pressing against the small of her back to pull her closer. The other Nation makes a little noise at that before slanting her mouth against Sweden’s, and somehow it makes things perfect. There is no partnership like theirs once they find their equilibrium, and it seems that even applies to things like this.
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