Starry Night [6]
anonymous
April 23 2009, 20:10:19 UTC
“I-Is it?” he replied, blinking owlishly. “Well, all right, I could get you some more of those wool blankets; they’re warm, so one or two would...” Estonia trailed off as Poland shook his head.
“You like, so don’t get it.” He laughed a bit, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to baffled Estonia’s cheek. “My bed,” he said again, “is cold. Freezing. Like, I’m totally serious. And I think,” another kiss, light and airy, “that yours,” and another, “would be a lot warmer.”
Blushing pepper-red, Estonia stared at him. His mind raced. What was he implying? Poland’s eyes were bright and laughing, and he was leaning close, so close that Estonia could feel the heat on him, the lingering warmth of the hot shower. Could he mean - ... No. He couldn’t, could he? But what if he did? Finally, he decided, whether he did or didn’t, the answer would be the same.
“I-if you think so,” Estonia said quietly, wetting his lips, “then I. Ah. I think there’s enough room in my bed for the both of us. If your own is really so cold, of course.” Though he tried to say it nonchalantly, his voice trembled, and he silently decided that was a habit he would have to rid himself of.
Evidently, even with the trembling, that had been the reply Poland had hoped for. He slunk beneath the covers, and after negotiating space for himself in the layers of sheets, quilts and wool blankets, he slid his arms around Estonia and pressed close and kissed him without another word. Though still nervous, Estonia found himself welcoming it, melting under the soft pressure of Poland’s lips.
All too soon, Poland drew away. Estonia looked at him curiously, but before he could question him, Poland only smirked, kissed his cheek, and said, “Good night”. Then he rolled over, yawning. “Mm, like, turn out the light, will you? I’m exhausted. I’m so not kidding.”
Estonia stared at him for a moment, then obliged him, turning off the lamp. The stress that had built in him washed away. How ridiculous of you, he thought. There was nothing to worry about. You were nervous for nothing; he implied nothing. That was all you.
He slid his arms around Poland’s waist and brushed a kiss against his hair. “Good night,” Estonia whispered, and soon afterward they both slipped into sleep.
“You like, so don’t get it.” He laughed a bit, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to baffled Estonia’s cheek. “My bed,” he said again, “is cold. Freezing. Like, I’m totally serious. And I think,” another kiss, light and airy, “that yours,” and another, “would be a lot warmer.”
Blushing pepper-red, Estonia stared at him. His mind raced. What was he implying? Poland’s eyes were bright and laughing, and he was leaning close, so close that Estonia could feel the heat on him, the lingering warmth of the hot shower. Could he mean - ... No. He couldn’t, could he? But what if he did? Finally, he decided, whether he did or didn’t, the answer would be the same.
“I-if you think so,” Estonia said quietly, wetting his lips, “then I. Ah. I think there’s enough room in my bed for the both of us. If your own is really so cold, of course.” Though he tried to say it nonchalantly, his voice trembled, and he silently decided that was a habit he would have to rid himself of.
Evidently, even with the trembling, that had been the reply Poland had hoped for. He slunk beneath the covers, and after negotiating space for himself in the layers of sheets, quilts and wool blankets, he slid his arms around Estonia and pressed close and kissed him without another word. Though still nervous, Estonia found himself welcoming it, melting under the soft pressure of Poland’s lips.
All too soon, Poland drew away. Estonia looked at him curiously, but before he could question him, Poland only smirked, kissed his cheek, and said, “Good night”. Then he rolled over, yawning. “Mm, like, turn out the light, will you? I’m exhausted. I’m so not kidding.”
Estonia stared at him for a moment, then obliged him, turning off the lamp. The stress that had built in him washed away. How ridiculous of you, he thought. There was nothing to worry about. You were nervous for nothing; he implied nothing. That was all you.
He slid his arms around Poland’s waist and brushed a kiss against his hair. “Good night,” Estonia whispered, and soon afterward they both slipped into sleep.
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