Nation Flirtration (5a/10)
anonymous
October 31 2010, 15:29:13 UTC
Bit nervous for this one, we'll see how this goes XD @ OP: Your art = ohmigodsqueal! Thanks for all your lovely, lovely comments and I am planning our wedding to be June, if that's okay~ @ other commentators: Love you. Seriously. Thanks for tuning into my fill X3
5. Intoxication (Embracing)
So Turkey pushes him against the wall, and the man is drunk, slurring words like he had let the sticky syllables run around his mouth a while before releasing them. His breath was heavy, stuck to Greece’s skin as the island nation recoiled from it, from Turkey. At this point, Greece barely even bothered to comprehend whatever statement the masked man was spewing at him.
“…Gods yer annoyin’…wheres that cute kid go? I turn back and yer this … this …”
Greece narrowed his eyes, shoving at Turkey’s shoulder. But in intoxication, the dark-skinned nation was a solid wall, grinning as he merely shifted and pinned Greece down further.
“No, babe, I gotcha just where I wancha an’ … an’ you know whatma gonna do?”
“You’re going to trap me here and talk about my childhood.”
“I’mma- hey!” Turkey half-heartedly grabbed Greece’s hip and gave it a squeeze. “I coul’ do other things too…”
“Yeah, right, old man, but you never do.” Greece sighed slowly, resting the back of his head against the wall. “You just talk…and talk…and frankly, that’s so much worse.”
Turkey’s expression turned petulant. Greece barely had a split second to brace himself before he felt lips smashing into his own, a bit too sloppy to be vicious. Closing his eyes lazily, Greece angled his mouth and tried to accommodate. It was better than listening to the drunk man talk, after all.
If the kiss was meant to be a battle for dominance, it was a rather fumbling one. Turkey was too drunk to be forceful, and Greece just didn’t care. So, it turned to a rather slow exploration of each other’s mouths, and when it ended, Greece knew that his breath would smell of raki although he hadn’t touched a drop.
Damn Turkey.
It was predictable. At this point, the older man would crush him closer and-
“I lurve yous, Yunanistan…so cute…so… seni seviyorum.” He trailed his lips along Greece’s jaw, to his ear. “Seni seviyorum, babe.”
“You hate me.” Greece clarified.
Turkey shook his head stubbornly.
“And I hate you.” Greece pressed his palms against Turkey’s chest, just to get an inch of breathing room. “That’s how this thing works, remember?” Patronizingly, he over-enunciated every syllable like he was speaking to a toddler.
“Hey! Lishren to yer elders, boy.” Turkey grumbled. “I lurve yous, mmmmkay? So just shaddup an’ kiss me.”
“Fine, fine, but you gotta take off your mask.” Greece rolled his eyes. “Goddamn silver cuts.” Turkey didn’t reply, but Greece wasn’t looking for consent, anyway. He tugged the mask off and tossed it somewhere, the silver skidding across the tile floor with a jagged sound.
RC = sake pautores - (maybe Japan's getting in on the action ;))
Nation Flirtration (5b/10)
anonymous
October 31 2010, 15:33:14 UTC
They kissed, again. Greece thought that if he closed his eyes and tried not to breathe, it was very nearly pleasant. Turkey had always been a skilled kisser, and intoxication actually took the edge off of his normally-aggressive caresses. The only unfortunate thing is that his drunken groping tended to miss the mark, causing Greece to jump when he felt his clavicle pinched and twisted.
Turkey smirked. “Like that?”
Greece didn’t think that merited a reply. “You’re heavy.” He murmured, annoyed. “Let’s move this to the couch.”
If he expected Turkey to just let him go, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, the other nation clung and provided little help, leaving it mostly up to Greece to shuffle/drag them the five feet it took to get to the nearest soft surface.
It was too much work. Not to mention, Turkey’s hands were everywhere, roaming around with a leer, gripping Greece in a hold that was tight and hot and crushingly possessive. Greece struggled to keep the annoying appendages, if not off altogether, at least confined above the belt.
They fell a bit short of the couch, clawed their way up, and continued their odd not-quite-battle-not-quite-embrace. It certainly felt like an embrace, Greece thought, as Turkey ran a warm hand through the island nation’s curls, murmuring “ Seni seviyorum, seni seviyorum.”
I love you, I love you.
“Old bastard,” Greece whispered, arms snaking around Turkey’s shoulders to hold him as well. “Stop ruining my hatred for you. Gods, you do this every time you’re drunk.”
Turkey didn’t reply. He was warm and still and heavy lying over Greece’s body.
“Just once, maybe try sayin’ it sober.” Greece allowed himself an idle, ironic smile. “Then maybe I’ll believe you…”
Still no answer from Turkey. Oh no, there was a snore.
“Ah…” Greece blinked. Then, “Ah! Get off of me!” The island nation began struggling in Turkey’s grip, shifting his hips and pushing with his arms. Greece wasn’t exactly a weakling, but Gods, Turkey was heavy.
All Greece managed to do was to flip their positions until he was on top, but even then, Turkey seemed to cling to the other nation in his sleep, burying his face in Greece’s curly mop, arms locked around Greece’s lean waist.
“Friggin’ death grip…” Greece muttered, ceasing his useless struggles, and deciding to try and get comfortable in Turkey’s lap. He was going to be here a long time, after all.
Greece pummeled Turkey’s chest a couple of times, like he was beating a pillow into place. And although it really didn’t make his make-do bed any less uncomfortable, it did make him feel better on the inside.
Then, with a sigh, the island nation let himself spoon against Turkey’s broad chest. Stupid old man always made him feel like a kid. Not that that was an entirely bad thing, but still.
OMAKE
Turkey woke up the next morning with a raging headache. When had the sun become so liquidy? It seemed to be almost oozing from the window like a runny egg, and frankly, Turkey felt a bit sick at the thought.
An uncoordinated brush of his fingers against his cheek (he was about a millimeter away from literally poking out his eyeball) told Turkey that he did not have his mask on. Well then, where the beeping beep did it go?
He was determined to find it.
Turkey bent down, and groaned. On the other hand, screw this. He’d find it later.
Staggering to the bathroom was quite a feat. The bright lights bouncing off of white tiles seemed way too much for Turkey’s sensitive eyes, and he blinked rapidly in discomfort.
His image in the mirror made him blink even more.
Goddamn, who had drawn cat whiskers on him with a sharpie marker?
Nervous for this fill *nibbles fingernails* I have the hardest time ever characterizing Greece, and you can totally tell I've avoided swearing here, right? *nervous laughter*
RC: Pierre plowspor - this...just seems like something vulgar about France
My dentist thanks your for my patronage
anonymous
November 1 2010, 00:46:25 UTC
I think that my cavities just got a little bit worse...but reading these were sooo worth it. I can't wait for more chapters! I swear, that is a list of my favorite pairings. I think that your characterization of Greece was great!
@ OP: Your art = ohmigodsqueal! Thanks for all your lovely, lovely comments and I am planning our wedding to be June, if that's okay~
@ other commentators: Love you. Seriously. Thanks for tuning into my fill X3
5. Intoxication (Embracing)
So Turkey pushes him against the wall, and the man is drunk, slurring words like he had let the sticky syllables run around his mouth a while before releasing them. His breath was heavy, stuck to Greece’s skin as the island nation recoiled from it, from Turkey. At this point, Greece barely even bothered to comprehend whatever statement the masked man was spewing at him.
“…Gods yer annoyin’…wheres that cute kid go? I turn back and yer this … this …”
Greece narrowed his eyes, shoving at Turkey’s shoulder. But in intoxication, the dark-skinned nation was a solid wall, grinning as he merely shifted and pinned Greece down further.
“No, babe, I gotcha just where I wancha an’ … an’ you know whatma gonna do?”
“You’re going to trap me here and talk about my childhood.”
“I’mma- hey!” Turkey half-heartedly grabbed Greece’s hip and gave it a squeeze. “I coul’ do other things too…”
“Yeah, right, old man, but you never do.” Greece sighed slowly, resting the back of his head against the wall. “You just talk…and talk…and frankly, that’s so much worse.”
Turkey’s expression turned petulant. Greece barely had a split second to brace himself before he felt lips smashing into his own, a bit too sloppy to be vicious. Closing his eyes lazily, Greece angled his mouth and tried to accommodate. It was better than listening to the drunk man talk, after all.
If the kiss was meant to be a battle for dominance, it was a rather fumbling one. Turkey was too drunk to be forceful, and Greece just didn’t care. So, it turned to a rather slow exploration of each other’s mouths, and when it ended, Greece knew that his breath would smell of raki although he hadn’t touched a drop.
Damn Turkey.
It was predictable. At this point, the older man would crush him closer and-
“I lurve yous, Yunanistan…so cute…so… seni seviyorum.” He trailed his lips along Greece’s jaw, to his ear. “Seni seviyorum, babe.”
“You hate me.” Greece clarified.
Turkey shook his head stubbornly.
“And I hate you.” Greece pressed his palms against Turkey’s chest, just to get an inch of breathing room. “That’s how this thing works, remember?” Patronizingly, he over-enunciated every syllable like he was speaking to a toddler.
“Hey! Lishren to yer elders, boy.” Turkey grumbled. “I lurve yous, mmmmkay? So just shaddup an’ kiss me.”
“Fine, fine, but you gotta take off your mask.” Greece rolled his eyes. “Goddamn silver cuts.” Turkey didn’t reply, but Greece wasn’t looking for consent, anyway. He tugged the mask off and tossed it somewhere, the silver skidding across the tile floor with a jagged sound.
RC = sake pautores - (maybe Japan's getting in on the action ;))
Reply
They kissed, again. Greece thought that if he closed his eyes and tried not to breathe, it was very nearly pleasant. Turkey had always been a skilled kisser, and intoxication actually took the edge off of his normally-aggressive caresses. The only unfortunate thing is that his drunken groping tended to miss the mark, causing Greece to jump when he felt his clavicle pinched and twisted.
Turkey smirked. “Like that?”
Greece didn’t think that merited a reply. “You’re heavy.” He murmured, annoyed. “Let’s move this to the couch.”
If he expected Turkey to just let him go, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, the other nation clung and provided little help, leaving it mostly up to Greece to shuffle/drag them the five feet it took to get to the nearest soft surface.
It was too much work. Not to mention, Turkey’s hands were everywhere, roaming around with a leer, gripping Greece in a hold that was tight and hot and crushingly possessive. Greece struggled to keep the annoying appendages, if not off altogether, at least confined above the belt.
They fell a bit short of the couch, clawed their way up, and continued their odd not-quite-battle-not-quite-embrace. It certainly felt like an embrace, Greece thought, as Turkey ran a warm hand through the island nation’s curls, murmuring “ Seni seviyorum, seni seviyorum.”
I love you, I love you.
“Old bastard,” Greece whispered, arms snaking around Turkey’s shoulders to hold him as well. “Stop ruining my hatred for you. Gods, you do this every time you’re drunk.”
Turkey didn’t reply. He was warm and still and heavy lying over Greece’s body.
“Just once, maybe try sayin’ it sober.” Greece allowed himself an idle, ironic smile. “Then maybe I’ll believe you…”
Still no answer from Turkey. Oh no, there was a snore.
“Ah…” Greece blinked. Then, “Ah! Get off of me!” The island nation began struggling in Turkey’s grip, shifting his hips and pushing with his arms. Greece wasn’t exactly a weakling, but Gods, Turkey was heavy.
All Greece managed to do was to flip their positions until he was on top, but even then, Turkey seemed to cling to the other nation in his sleep, burying his face in Greece’s curly mop, arms locked around Greece’s lean waist.
“Friggin’ death grip…” Greece muttered, ceasing his useless struggles, and deciding to try and get comfortable in Turkey’s lap. He was going to be here a long time, after all.
Greece pummeled Turkey’s chest a couple of times, like he was beating a pillow into place. And although it really didn’t make his make-do bed any less uncomfortable, it did make him feel better on the inside.
Then, with a sigh, the island nation let himself spoon against Turkey’s broad chest. Stupid old man always made him feel like a kid. Not that that was an entirely bad thing, but still.
OMAKE
Turkey woke up the next morning with a raging headache. When had the sun become so liquidy? It seemed to be almost oozing from the window like a runny egg, and frankly, Turkey felt a bit sick at the thought.
An uncoordinated brush of his fingers against his cheek (he was about a millimeter away from literally poking out his eyeball) told Turkey that he did not have his mask on. Well then, where the beeping beep did it go?
He was determined to find it.
Turkey bent down, and groaned. On the other hand, screw this. He’d find it later.
Staggering to the bathroom was quite a feat. The bright lights bouncing off of white tiles seemed way too much for Turkey’s sensitive eyes, and he blinked rapidly in discomfort.
His image in the mirror made him blink even more.
Goddamn, who had drawn cat whiskers on him with a sharpie marker?
Nervous for this fill *nibbles fingernails* I have the hardest time ever characterizing Greece, and you can totally tell I've avoided swearing here, right? *nervous laughter*
RC: Pierre plowspor - this...just seems like something vulgar about France
Reply
Keep it up anon!
Reply
I think that your characterization of Greece was great!
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