[Part 12][Threshold][fem!Sweden/fem!Finland][10/15]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 07:19:46 UTC
Not that Finland is just lying back idly. Now that her recovery is complete, she turns her attention to evening the score between herself and Sweden. Her leg rocks against the taller Nation’s center once more, the friction building up with tantalizing speed as she trails biting kisses along her shoulder. Going so long without any sort of relief as she has, it isn’t long until Sweden feels her inner muscles starting to clench up as she grows close. It just spurs her to pick up her own pace, to bring Finland to the same levels of dizzying pleasure she is feeling. Judging from the needy cries Finland was letting out as she writhed beneath her, it is definitely working.
“Fin-” Sweden gasps out, toes curling as stars start to spark at the edge of her vision. “Fin, ‘m-”
Finland grinds harder against her, pulling Sweden’s mouth to hers to meld them together hard and fast. “G-go ahead, Sve. I-I’m almost t-there.”
The sounds of feverish breathing and moaning rose up in the air as both women grow close to release. With her final fragment of focus, Sweden moves up her thumb to rub at Finland’s point of weakness while thrusting her fingers faster still. She keeps at it even as white-hot lightening thrums through her body, breaking her utterly apart and putting her back together again all in the same instance. Sweden’s vision is blurred from both her release and lack of glasses, but she can still make out the Finn rocking once, twice more against her hand. She can hear perfectly her name being screamed in pleasure, feel the other woman clinch up before soaking her fingers with molten heat.
Sated as she is, Finland and her comfort are still first on Sweden’s mind. Pulling her hand out of the smaller Nation, she rolls off her and to the side. The blood staining her fingers sends a deep pulse of guilt flaring up in her heart, but she decides to set her feelings about it aside for the time. It wouldn’t make Finland happy, and that is what’s most important. Wiping her hand on the sheets, she pulls her wife into her arms. The Finn makes a content little sigh, her body warm and relaxed against Sweden’s. The activity has made one of her braids fall out of its loose plait, and the Swede finds herself lazily undoing the other one to match. Finland’s ash-blonde hair shines like liquid gold in the firelight, and the sight of it reminds Sweden of a marital duty she has yet to attend to.
“Y’r dower,” Sweden yawns, stroking the Finn’s soft locks absently. “Th’nk on wh’t y’want. F’r t’mornin’.” Sleepiness is beginning to overcome her, and what little energy she has is rapidly draining away. She snuffs out the candles on her side of the bed, rending their quarters comfortably dark.
Finland’s light chuckle rings out of the dimness, and Sweden can barely make out the curve of her smile with her weak vision. “Alright, Sve.”
That’s enough for Sweden in her tired state. The moniker ‘Lioness of Scandinavia’ does not just apply to her strength in war-she’s always slept as deeply as the big cat, all but dead to the world. Burying her face in the sweet crook of Finland’s neck, she nods off quickly, the happiest she has been in a long, long time.
Sweden never finds out what she misses because of it. Finland waits, still and awake as the candles dwindle down, until she is absolutely sure Sweden is fast asleep. The smaller Nation sits up, careful not to disturb the slumbering Swede.
“I love you, Sve,” Finland whispers, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her lips tilt into a small smile as she sighs. “Someday I’ll work up the nerve to say it to your face.” Blowing out the last of the candles, she settles back into the taller Nation’s arms and drifts off to sleep.
“Fin-” Sweden gasps out, toes curling as stars start to spark at the edge of her vision. “Fin, ‘m-”
Finland grinds harder against her, pulling Sweden’s mouth to hers to meld them together hard and fast. “G-go ahead, Sve. I-I’m almost t-there.”
The sounds of feverish breathing and moaning rose up in the air as both women grow close to release. With her final fragment of focus, Sweden moves up her thumb to rub at Finland’s point of weakness while thrusting her fingers faster still. She keeps at it even as white-hot lightening thrums through her body, breaking her utterly apart and putting her back together again all in the same instance. Sweden’s vision is blurred from both her release and lack of glasses, but she can still make out the Finn rocking once, twice more against her hand. She can hear perfectly her name being screamed in pleasure, feel the other woman clinch up before soaking her fingers with molten heat.
Sated as she is, Finland and her comfort are still first on Sweden’s mind. Pulling her hand out of the smaller Nation, she rolls off her and to the side. The blood staining her fingers sends a deep pulse of guilt flaring up in her heart, but she decides to set her feelings about it aside for the time. It wouldn’t make Finland happy, and that is what’s most important. Wiping her hand on the sheets, she pulls her wife into her arms. The Finn makes a content little sigh, her body warm and relaxed against Sweden’s. The activity has made one of her braids fall out of its loose plait, and the Swede finds herself lazily undoing the other one to match. Finland’s ash-blonde hair shines like liquid gold in the firelight, and the sight of it reminds Sweden of a marital duty she has yet to attend to.
“Y’r dower,” Sweden yawns, stroking the Finn’s soft locks absently. “Th’nk on wh’t y’want. F’r t’mornin’.” Sleepiness is beginning to overcome her, and what little energy she has is rapidly draining away. She snuffs out the candles on her side of the bed, rending their quarters comfortably dark.
Finland’s light chuckle rings out of the dimness, and Sweden can barely make out the curve of her smile with her weak vision. “Alright, Sve.”
That’s enough for Sweden in her tired state. The moniker ‘Lioness of Scandinavia’ does not just apply to her strength in war-she’s always slept as deeply as the big cat, all but dead to the world. Burying her face in the sweet crook of Finland’s neck, she nods off quickly, the happiest she has been in a long, long time.
Sweden never finds out what she misses because of it. Finland waits, still and awake as the candles dwindle down, until she is absolutely sure Sweden is fast asleep. The smaller Nation sits up, careful not to disturb the slumbering Swede.
“I love you, Sve,” Finland whispers, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her lips tilt into a small smile as she sighs. “Someday I’ll work up the nerve to say it to your face.” Blowing out the last of the candles, she settles back into the taller Nation’s arms and drifts off to sleep.
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