[Part 12][Threshold][fem!Sweden/fem!Finland][3/15]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 07:03:40 UTC
Sweden dimly registers Finland’s hands threading through her hair, untying the blue ribbon binding her hair into a ponytail, but was far more occupied with the wet heat of Finland’s tongue snaking through her lips. It tastes of ale and apples and something that’s purely Finland, and the combination is utterly addictive. Wanting more, her own tongue twirls against the smaller Nation’s even as she grows light-headed from the sensation and a building need for air. Finally her body trumps desire and Sweden reluctantly pulls away from Finland, panting softly as their eyes lock.
They stare at each other, and for a minute it’s more strained then before. Sweden swallows hard, her stomach plummeting with sudden fear. She nearly moves to push Finland away, to go-somewhere, anywhere-only to stop midway when the shorter woman lets out a short, rueful laugh.
“We’re really not good at this, are we?” Finland rests her head on Sweden’s shoulder, her exhale brushing against her skin. Her ash-blonde hair smells fresh and clean, like the air after rainfall, and Sweden can’t help but breathe in the scent of it. “But…Sve, I did mean it. Um, earlier. So…if you want to…”
Sweden’s heart does a nervous, jumping little skip in her chest at that. It’s true, she wants what Finland’s offering more desperately than the other Nation could possibly know, but not if she doesn’t want it too. Even with all Finland’s said to her, it’s still so hard to believe. Not that she doesn’t trust her, but just that her dreams being fulfilled like this always seemed so distant as to be in the realm of fantasy. “D’you?”
Out of the corner of her eye she sees the redness on Finland’s face deepen in color. To say she looks flustered would be an understatement, and as she lifts her head from Sweden’s shoulder the shorter woman keeps her gaze down. Wetting her lip nervously, Finland speaks up like it is taking all her sisu to do so. “Ah, Sve…” She begins. Even the tips of her ears have gone pink by now. “I guess you never really realized this, but…didn’t you ever wonder why I’d always cling closer to you whenever you woke up from...er…having a good dream? Or why my nightshift kept slipping down so much?”
“….” Sweden can’t respond at all beyond that-her mortification is so intense it kills all other semblance of thought. Finally she manages to weakly croak, “Y’were aw’ke?”
“It’s kind of hard to sleep when someone’s moaning your name right in your ear,” Finland says like it’s the most normal thing in the world. By this point, Sweden is praying for someone to just strike her down before embarrassment, Finland, or some combination of the two does the job first. Seemingly oblivious to Sweden’s death-wish, the shorter Nation plays with one pale blonde braid and continues, “I was disappointed you never tried anything. Your self-control is really good, Sve. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you wanted me at all.” Finland gives her a little smile, and even at a time like this it still makes Sweden melt inside. “I guess that’s why I didn’t have the nerve to try anything more obvious.”
Sweden opens and shuts her mouth a few times, a mismatched whirl of words on her tongue. Eventually she settles on, “Th’n…y’want…”
They stare at each other, and for a minute it’s more strained then before. Sweden swallows hard, her stomach plummeting with sudden fear. She nearly moves to push Finland away, to go-somewhere, anywhere-only to stop midway when the shorter woman lets out a short, rueful laugh.
“We’re really not good at this, are we?” Finland rests her head on Sweden’s shoulder, her exhale brushing against her skin. Her ash-blonde hair smells fresh and clean, like the air after rainfall, and Sweden can’t help but breathe in the scent of it. “But…Sve, I did mean it. Um, earlier. So…if you want to…”
Sweden’s heart does a nervous, jumping little skip in her chest at that. It’s true, she wants what Finland’s offering more desperately than the other Nation could possibly know, but not if she doesn’t want it too. Even with all Finland’s said to her, it’s still so hard to believe. Not that she doesn’t trust her, but just that her dreams being fulfilled like this always seemed so distant as to be in the realm of fantasy. “D’you?”
Out of the corner of her eye she sees the redness on Finland’s face deepen in color. To say she looks flustered would be an understatement, and as she lifts her head from Sweden’s shoulder the shorter woman keeps her gaze down. Wetting her lip nervously, Finland speaks up like it is taking all her sisu to do so.
“Ah, Sve…” She begins. Even the tips of her ears have gone pink by now. “I guess you never really realized this, but…didn’t you ever wonder why I’d always cling closer to you whenever you woke up from...er…having a good dream? Or why my nightshift kept slipping down so much?”
“….” Sweden can’t respond at all beyond that-her mortification is so intense it kills all other semblance of thought. Finally she manages to weakly croak, “Y’were aw’ke?”
“It’s kind of hard to sleep when someone’s moaning your name right in your ear,” Finland says like it’s the most normal thing in the world. By this point, Sweden is praying for someone to just strike her down before embarrassment, Finland, or some combination of the two does the job first. Seemingly oblivious to Sweden’s death-wish, the shorter Nation plays with one pale blonde braid and continues, “I was disappointed you never tried anything. Your self-control is really good, Sve. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you wanted me at all.” Finland gives her a little smile, and even at a time like this it still makes Sweden melt inside. “I guess that’s why I didn’t have the nerve to try anything more obvious.”
Sweden opens and shuts her mouth a few times, a mismatched whirl of words on her tongue. Eventually she settles on, “Th’n…y’want…”
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