Got an 11, so used an emotion generator to decide. Got close, eager, and excited, so I ran with it.
He woke up slowly, becoming increasingly aware as he did so of something warm and solid at his back. His eyes opened and he turned slightly, his lips quirking upwards when he caught sight of blonde hair.
Sindre, who had crashed at the Dutchman's place after Merlin and dinner had run a bit long.
Willem yawned and pulled himself away from where he had been pressed against the other man, being careful not to wake Sindre as he reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. He swallowed a big gulp of it as he started planning out his day, but his to do list was driven from his mind as he registered the taste of what he'd just drank.
Definitely not water. Way too sickly sweet.
He made a face, setting the glass back on the nightstand as he tried to figure out what he'd been drinking the night before. Turning over, he pulled the covers back up over his shoulders as he prepared to lay back down. Blonde hair caught his attention, and he studied the sleeping form of the Norwegian in his bed.
Sindre, he was sure, would taste so much better than whatever he'd just drank.
To test that theory he scooted closer, pressing open mouthed kisses to what of the man's neck and shoulder were exposed.
3. Shy Sindre? This is a new one. Be on the lookout for accidental moe.
This was a rather pleasant way to wake up, Sindre thought, a quiet hum slipping out as he shifted against the sheets. Warm figure pressed against his back, kisses being pressed to his skin...
Sindre shot a hand out. Any bedmate of his should know to bring coffee if he were to be at all useful right after waking up. Sure enough, his fingers brushed a glass and, without opening his eyes, he started gulping it down.
Only to start spluttering. That was awful. And not coffee. True, he was feeling much more awake now, but he would prefer it to be due to caffeine in the future, not an assault on his tastebuds.
Mind now somewhat functioning, Sindre turned his head to get a look at the person who woke him, only to whip it back around. It was Wilm. Wilm was behind him, kissing him.
Wilm, who had been Søren's best friend. Wilm, who Sindre had propositioned on not-entirely-a-rebound and had been turned down. Wilm, who had given Sindre the impression that he wanted another man.
Keeping his face turned firmly away, Sindre attempted to tug casually at the sheets. He felt so exposed, suddenly, and he needed something between him and the Dutchman, embarrassed by his pale, pale skin and svelte form.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Swallowed hard. Tried again. "Hva gjør du?" he managed, wincing internally as his voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Encouraged by the hum Willem picked up his pace, alternating the kisses with nuzzling the man's shoulder. He moved with the other man as he reached towards the night stand, not wanting to break from what he was doing.
Then suddenly sheets hit him in the face as they were pulled upwards, and he pulled back a bit in puzzlement. He couldn't understand what Sindre said to him, but the other man's voice sounded a bit off. A bit nervous, a bit worried, neither of which was a good thing. Pushing himself up he leaned so he was hovering over the other man, looking down at Sindre's profile.
"Seeing if you tasted good," Willem responded evenly. He noticed that Sindre was still blushing, still not looking at him, so he pried the blankets out of the Norwegian's grasp, pulling the comforter over their heads to block out the rest of the room.
The dark blanket blocked most of the light in the room as well, throwing Sindre's body into shadow. Willem scooted until he was again pressed against the other man's back, nuzzling into his shoulder.
Oddly enough, the comforter did help. Sindre found himself relaxing against the warm body beside his, even as the blush on his cheeks darkened.
"Ja..." he responded hesitantly. "But..."
He had to swallow, trying to keep the plaintive note from his voice. "Why do you want to taste me now?" The when you didn't want to before went unsaid.
Sindre stayed under the blankets for a few moments more, just...breathing.
And then, with a concerted mental effort, he shoved everything that had just happened to the back of his mind. No sense fretting over something that was surely nothing.
Entering the kitchen, Sindre collapsed in a seat. "Coffee," he demanded. Life would start making sense again after coffee.
A cup was almost immediately shoved into his hands. The Dutchman handing it to him smiled, having already anticipated the other man's need for caffeine and proud of himself for it. He then turned back towards the large bowl on the counter, picking it up and spooning some into the maker. He closed the lid, then called over his shoulder to ask what Sindre liked on his waffles.
Sindre felt his cheeks heat as the dreaded blush returned. "'m not cute," he insisted to his coffee. "Just...not awake."
At Wilm's direction, Sindre headed for his refrigerator, locating the berries easily. Once back at his seat, he tugged them close to him, protectively. They were his berries now, and he wasn't sharing.
He turned from putting the first couple of waffles on a plate to see Sindre sulking in his seat, holding the berries to him in way that suggested a child clutching a beloved toy. The Dutchman couldn't help but chuckle at that, placing the waffles in front of the other man with a quick kiss to his temple.
"Cute," he insisted firmly, placing the syrup on the other side of the Norwegian's plate.
He woke up slowly, becoming increasingly aware as he did so of something warm and solid at his back. His eyes opened and he turned slightly, his lips quirking upwards when he caught sight of blonde hair.
Sindre, who had crashed at the Dutchman's place after Merlin and dinner had run a bit long.
Willem yawned and pulled himself away from where he had been pressed against the other man, being careful not to wake Sindre as he reached for the glass of water on his nightstand. He swallowed a big gulp of it as he started planning out his day, but his to do list was driven from his mind as he registered the taste of what he'd just drank.
Definitely not water. Way too sickly sweet.
He made a face, setting the glass back on the nightstand as he tried to figure out what he'd been drinking the night before. Turning over, he pulled the covers back up over his shoulders as he prepared to lay back down. Blonde hair caught his attention, and he studied the sleeping form of the Norwegian in his bed.
Sindre, he was sure, would taste so much better than whatever he'd just drank.
To test that theory he scooted closer, pressing open mouthed kisses to what of the man's neck and shoulder were exposed.
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This was a rather pleasant way to wake up, Sindre thought, a quiet hum slipping out as he shifted against the sheets. Warm figure pressed against his back, kisses being pressed to his skin...
Sindre shot a hand out. Any bedmate of his should know to bring coffee if he were to be at all useful right after waking up. Sure enough, his fingers brushed a glass and, without opening his eyes, he started gulping it down.
Only to start spluttering. That was awful. And not coffee. True, he was feeling much more awake now, but he would prefer it to be due to caffeine in the future, not an assault on his tastebuds.
Mind now somewhat functioning, Sindre turned his head to get a look at the person who woke him, only to whip it back around. It was Wilm. Wilm was behind him, kissing him.
Wilm, who had been Søren's best friend. Wilm, who Sindre had propositioned on not-entirely-a-rebound and had been turned down. Wilm, who had given Sindre the impression that he wanted another man.
Keeping his face turned firmly away, Sindre attempted to tug casually at the sheets. He felt so exposed, suddenly, and he needed something between him and the Dutchman, embarrassed by his pale, pale skin and svelte form.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Swallowed hard. Tried again. "Hva gjør du?" he managed, wincing internally as his voice cracked slightly on the last word.
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Then suddenly sheets hit him in the face as they were pulled upwards, and he pulled back a bit in puzzlement. He couldn't understand what Sindre said to him, but the other man's voice sounded a bit off. A bit nervous, a bit worried, neither of which was a good thing. Pushing himself up he leaned so he was hovering over the other man, looking down at Sindre's profile.
"You okay?"
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Sindre kept his gaze firmly on the far wall, studiously ignoring the faint blush he knew was breaking out over his cheeks.
"F-fine. I'm fine. What are you doing?"
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The dark blanket blocked most of the light in the room as well, throwing Sindre's body into shadow. Willem scooted until he was again pressed against the other man's back, nuzzling into his shoulder.
"Better?"
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"Ja..." he responded hesitantly. "But..."
He had to swallow, trying to keep the plaintive note from his voice. "Why do you want to taste me now?" The when you didn't want to before went unsaid.
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"Is now wrong?" he asked. "Should I have made you breakfast first?"
He pressed a kiss to the Norwegian's shoulder, because it was there and solid and warm.
"My zus just sent me a waffle maker, so I could make you some."
Actually, that sounded like a wonderful idea. Waffles tasted good, especially with syrup and butter and fruit.
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So he latched onto Wilm's offer. "Ja," he replied, wanting the escape. "Waffles sound good."
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"I'll make some then. Zus taught me how to make them so they're really good."
With that he turned and strode into the kitchen.
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And then, with a concerted mental effort, he shoved everything that had just happened to the back of his mind. No sense fretting over something that was surely nothing.
Entering the kitchen, Sindre collapsed in a seat. "Coffee," he demanded. Life would start making sense again after coffee.
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having already anticipated the other man's need for caffeine and proud of himself for it. He then turned back towards the large bowl on the counter, picking it up and spooning some into the maker. He closed the lid, then called over his shoulder to ask what Sindre liked on his waffles.
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He broke off mid-sentence, suddenly self-conscious about demanding things in someone else's home. But Wilm had asked, so...so it might be acceptable.
"If you have them," he made himself finish. "Raspberries will suffice if you don't."
Swallowing hard, Sindre took a sip of the steaming beverage. "This is good," he exclaimed, almost surprised.
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"You're always more fun when you've had caffeine, so I figured out how to make good coffee."
He opened the machine, put the first waffle on a plate.
"Although you are cute when you're all sleepy."
He nodded towards the fridge.
"I got some the other day since you and Kai talk about them all the time and they're really good. There might be some left."
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At Wilm's direction, Sindre headed for his refrigerator, locating the berries easily. Once back at his seat, he tugged them close to him, protectively. They were his berries now, and he wasn't sharing.
That would serve Wilm right for the cute comment.
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"Cute," he insisted firmly, placing the syrup on the other side of the Norwegian's plate.
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Focusing on his food, Sindre kept his head down, refusing to look at Wilm.
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