[Fanfic] - Sight of You
Title: Sight of You
Rating: R
Pairing: Sweden/Finland/Sweden
Summary: Finland always gains weight during the holidays; Sweden’s pretty into it.
Warnings: A pretty weird kink, sexy times, tooth-rotting fluff and sap, and a little angst for good measure.
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The last night of Finland’s stay before he took off to prepare for the next session of Parliament, and Sweden was curled around him in bed, curtains drawn and room dark. Sweden sighed; a low pulse of want thrummed through him, spreading through his veins, rising up under his skin, low-lying electric current keeping him awake.
He knew Finland didn’t want to do anything, as he was always exhausted around Christmas. Sweden drew himself nearer to Finland under the covers. They never did anything sexual during the holidays unless Finland had been drinking, and even then it was always Sweden who did the work; a turnaround from their usual routine.
But still. He couldn’t keep his free hand from wandering, couldn’t stop pressing his larger form ever closer to Finland. Finland always gained weight over the holidays. A lot of weight. A noticeable amount of weight. His clothes, always a little baggy on him during the summer, filled out nicely, and Sweden couldn’t help observing.
On the couch, watching a movie while Sealand tried to stay awake on Sweden’s other side, and Finland’s curled-up position exaggerated the paunch of his stomach.
In the kitchen, where Finland flitted around from counter to stove and back, his shirt tightly wrinkling over his love handles when he reached up for something in the cabinet.
In the living room, decorating the Christmas tree - Finland and Sealand prattling on about everything, Sweden happily moving the ornaments at the top around over and over again according to their ever-changing whims - and Finland’s tightly stretched pants as he knelt on the floor, backside full and plump and oh-so-grabbable.
In bed in the morning, when Finland’s bright smile waking his groggy self up was made even cheerier than usual by his chubby cheeks.
And now. Lying in bed, and Finland was so much softer, melded to him so very easily, and there was just...so much more, it made him feel greedy, it made him burn with want, year after year. Sweden shifted, tucked his head over Finland’s and brought his nose to Finland’s hair. He let his lips brush the top of Finland’s head in a light kiss and draped a long arm over and down and around, pulling them flush together. He closed his eyes at the sensation of Finland’s cushioned middle yielding under his arm.
His erection pressed against Finland’s backside, and oh, was that ever nice.
“Sweden?”
“Mm?” Sweden ran a hand down Finland’s front, over the bedshirt, over the plump stomach, let it settle on the rounded curve of Finland’s hip.
Finland moved slightly; Sweden let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and he minutely jerked his hips, rubbing himself against a much more substantial behind than he was accustomed to.
“I...don’t know. I’m tired, Sve!”
“Yer leavin’ tomorrow.”
“W-well, yes...but I..I’m happy just cuddling with you too!”
“Mm.”
“No, really, it’s nice to be able to stay here with you and be lazy and comfortable.”
Sweden nodded against Finland’s head and marveled for the millionth time over how easily Finland could find the words. He couldn’t speak like Finland could, ever, he was never so open or expressive. He didn’t think Finland understood him at all sometimes, and the blame wasn’t on Finland. It was so frustrating. Finland was still jumpy around him at times, after all of these years, and Sweden was sure that if he could just speak...
His hand moved up Finland’s torso of its own accord, then traced back down, palm flat. It did nothing to assuage the heat between Sweden’s legs, but that wasn’t the point. He just liked touching Finland - especially when it was just the two of them, in the night quiet, and especially during the holidays.
A little lower, and his hand unexpectedly found Finland’s erection; Sweden squinted into Finland’s hair, confused.
“Y’sure?” he mumbled, palming Finland through layers of fabric. Finland’s breath hitched and Sweden pushed his erection against him once more in response.
“A-ah...I...oh...”
Sweden didn’t understand Finland’s reluctance, as he was holding the proof of Finland’s arousal right now. “’f it’s jus’ that yer tired...I can...y’don’t hafta do anythin’.” Was that what Finland was worried about? He needed to make it clear that he loved, loved, taking care of Finland’s every need, if that was the case. He’d happily do it all Christmas season; no, all year.
“I...yeah, that’s okay,” Finland sighed. “But it’s cold! We should stay under the covers.”
Sweden didn’t think it was cold, and Finland certainly didn’t feel cold, but before he could think too hard on that Sweden folded their bodies together, line-on-line, front-on-spine - and he couldn’t even feel Finland’s spine, oh God. He moved a hand roughly up Finland’s front and began work on the buttons when he was interrupted by Finland’s hand twisting in his.
“Can I leave my shirt on?”
Again, Sweden squinted down into Finland’s hair, but simply moved his hand down to the waistband of Finland’s pajamas instead. Slowly. Haltingly. He couldn’t resist lingering over the bulky, pliant flesh underneath the shirt. Cozy, comfortable, so tempting. He thrust against Finland even as he pulled pants and underpants down.
Wasn’t Finland hot? He had to be, Sweden thought as he shimmied out of his own clothing - a hard task, as he was trying to remain as glued to Finland as possible the entire time - he was sweating, and - so was Finland.
Sweden’s slippery hands slid down Finland’s thighs under the blankets, Finland’s skin there wet with perspiration as well.
He pushed the pads of his fingers into Finland’s thigh, running back up to his inner thighs; Finland sighed, pleased and wanting all at once. Sweden slid his entire hand up, back down, barely squeezing. Finland’s thighs were so supple, bigger than Sweden was used to, and just the thought of that has him wantonly thrusting against Finland’s backside, penis slick from sweat and leaking fluid.
Sweden let the head slide crudely up the curve of Finland’s ass, up to well-padded hips. Slow motions, back and forth, even though the fire in him demanded more. His desperate breathing wasn’t matching up with Finland’s.
He moved up on one elbow, curling over Finland’s body to mouth at his ear. Finland always did like that, and the half-sigh half-keen that greeted the room made Sweden smile into the kisses he was peppering along Finland’s ear, jaw, cheeks. Oh those cheeks.
Once Finland was appropriately mewling under Sweden’s mouth, Sweden scooted down, legs sliding together, prying apart, and placed his cock between Finland’s moist thighs.
An awkward shift of the arm holding him up, and Sweden dug his hand under Finland to play with a nipple through his shirt. Finland’s moan and the feel of that extra flesh, fitting perfectly into his palm, caused him to throw his leg over Finland’s and press those lovely thighs down over him.
One slick, testing thrust resulted in Sweden’s low groan into Finland’s ear; he could definitely tell there was more to those thighs than usual. They molded against him, surrounded him, engulfed him.
He moved his hips. More friction, heat, sweat-sliding, skin gliding against skin. Finland’s hand joined his for a moment, over his chest; Sweden huffed and nipped Finland’s ear. Moved his other hand to Finland’s hip, dug under the shirt - oh.
Finland pushed back against him even as Sweden surged up and half-covered him, using his hand to grab Finland’s middle and tightly mash their bodies together - and Finland’s waist was just as wide as his, now.
He tightened and bowed against Finland with a groan, burying his face into Finland’s neck even as he buried his cock between cushy thighs, spurts of semen smearing and making it smoother, wetter, better - and grabbed Finland’s stomach, hips, searching, jerky, hopefully not too harsh but gods right then it was imperative that he have as much Finland as possible in his hands - both hands, he tried not to squeeze Finland’s chest too hard.
He came to wrapped tightly against Finland, and let his hands fall lax as he steadied his breathing. Finland’s pulse thundered against his ear, against his mouth; Sweden smiled, barely, closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
The peace didn’t last long; another ten seconds and Finland had shifted onto his back and he was babbling “Oh, wow, I’m sorry! I-I guess it’s been a while, huh?”
Sweden stared down at him. He was sorry? For what?
Finland chuckled and shifted underneath him, twitchy. “I just mean...um. You usually..last longer? I guess I’ve been too busy to-”
Sweden grunted and cut him off with a soft kiss. Then he pulled back and shook his head, arm groping for his underwear, discarded somewhere in the sheets in the heat of the moment.
“What are you doing, Sve?”
“Don’ be sorry,” Sweden muttered, gently wiping down Finland’s thighs under the covers even while bending down to press soft kisses to his neck.
A barely audible “oh” of encouragement met Sweden’s ears and he continued up, soft skin, soft jaw, round face, small ears. Shifted on top of Finland, just a bit more, the greater weight of his body pressing Finland down into the mattress. Finland’s arms rose to circle his middle, palms pressing lightly into the taut ridges of his back. And finally, finally, his hips arched up against Sweden’s thigh.
Sweden brought one large hand up to cup Finland’s face - a perfect fit, he thought - and dropped kisses, bare presses of chapped lips, against the smooth skin of Finland’s cheeks. He wanted to nuzzle into them. He did; Finland laughed, right into his ear, not skittish chuckles but true laughter, high and surprised. That was good.
Chest-to-chest and Sweden could feel the differences between their builds in detail. He was still so much larger than Finland, of course, but for whatever reason Finland’s holiday physique always took the edge off of Sweden’s usual fear that he was crushing his lover.
Still, Sweden remained propped on his elbows as his mouth dragged over to meet Finland’s. Finland met him, heatedly this time, and Sweden felt the familiar jolt that always ran down his spine at the sensation - Finland’s odd brand of tender ferocity in bed never failed to make his breath hitch, just for a second.
Finland’s tongue met his and he happily surrendered to his mouth to the mild assault. Sweden was down from his high enough to concentrate on the fact that Finland’s kisses were very much like Finland himself. Mellow and gentle until something provoked him.
Finland had always been perfectly able to take care of himself. That spine of steel underlying a soft heart was a combination that still left Sweden awestruck on occasion, even centuries later - yet he still got protective, he simply couldn’t help it, and it was always nicer when Finland was a little filled out and looked more capable of holding his own. It was always nicer when the body underneath his wasn’t quite so much smaller - it reminded him too much of the past, the awkwardness of that relationship, of not being equals.
Sweden liked being equals. He was happier; he thought Finland was happier, too.
None of this he had ever been able to express in words, though he’s tried. Sweden supposed actions would have to do.
So he kissed back, hot and heady, mouths and tongues and after a minute, a bit of teeth. Drew his hand up, played along the buttons of Finland’s shirt and then back down to knead his hips, other elbow still propped half-up and hand cupping Finland’s face.
Lowered himself to a more subtle line of collarbone exposed by Finland’s skewed shirt and chuckled a low “Yer eager.”
Lowered himself further, running his nose along Finland’s new curves, dragging the covers down with him.
Stopped to hover above Finland’s straining erection and finally to tongue at it, garnering a whimper for his efforts. For a fleeting instant Sweden left both hands on pudgy hips, then brought a hand up to unbutton that pesky shirt.
Finland moved away, sheets bunching in tight lines up the bed and Sweden automatically moved up to follow.
“Don’t do that...” Finland breathed.
Sweden paused with his mouth half-over Finland’s tip and looked up, then mumbled an “Mm?” that was sure to be pleasurable.
“Sve,” Finland panted, “it’s just that...a-ah well I’ve kind of gained some weight? And...um...”
Sweden swallowed him down and drew back up, looking at Finland all the while, fingers tracing mild lines up curve of Finland’s abdomen. Finland reached down and carefully pushed Sweden’s hand away, a nervous grin on his face.
Sweden pulled all the way off and stared at Finland a moment, a slight frown on his face. “Please?”
“U-uh..really?” Finland asked, voice sounding high and thready and weak. Not at all like Finland normally sounded. Normally he was quiet, but there was at least some measure of confidence.
Sweden nodded - yes, really - and when Finland’s only response was to relax, slightly, Sweden decided to take care of it the only way he knew how. He answered with roaming, groping hands, swipes of tongue, the occasional nuzzle - appreciative jerky patterns all over Finland’s body. Pushed the shirt up, followed the exposed skin with ardent kisses and hot breaths, a thorough exploration that made Finland shudder under his arms.
Finland was so soft.
So much softer than Sweden was, as always, in every way; soft smile, soft eyes with their dull luminescence, his quiet way of speaking that embraced whoever he was talking to, friendly with everyone. He wasn’t scary at all like Sweden; nations the world over had an easy time approaching him. And this time of year it was like his body was the outward manifestation of that. Pampered, welcoming, inviting, forgiving - everything Sweden wasn’t.
And if he gained weight indulging in the bounty of the season, that was okay.
And if he drank a little too much, let himself go for a while, that was okay too.
Finland didn’t indulge enough, and when he did, Sweden delighted in it.
The shirt came unbuttoned, fully; Sweden slid up Finland’s chest even as he slid the material down Finland’s arms. Large hands finally got to caress unadulterated skin, nothing between them - as it should be.
“You’re really - it’s okay?” came Finland’s voice, in soft, uncertain pants.
“Mm,” Sweden grunted against his collarbone, then placed hasty kisses up his neck and threaded a hand through Finland’s silky hair. When they were finally eye-to-eye, Sweden took a deep breath. “Yer beautiful,” he stated, bashful and quiet.
Finland looked away; Sweden brushed unhurried kisses to his eyelids and caught his gaze when they opened again. They simply looked at each other.
“Lemme take care of ya. I don’ mind.”
Finland didn’t look away this time. “If you’re sure...”
“M’sure.” Finland, however, didn’t look sure. Sweden barely refrained from frowning - that wouldn’t give the right message - but apparently Finland needed vocal reassurance. He always was the communicative one. “M’sure,” Sweden repeated, and awkwardly added “I kinda like it.”
“What?!”
“Mm, yeah. ‘s cute.”
Finland huffed and Sweden belatedly remembered that Finland didn’t care much for being called cute.
“Ah, jus’ lemme show ya. Please.” And with that hands and mouth resumed their slow worship, starting with Finland’s mouth, hair, neck, and moving lower, taking their time. Further and further down, exploring, indulging in the chance to appreciate Finland like this because who knew when that would happen again, and the further along he got the more undone Finland became.
By the time his mouth was ghosting over the hair below Finland’s navel - his hands rubbing up and down supple thighs, squeezing round hips, fingertips ghosting and gripping anywhere they could reach - Finland was nearly back to his usual attitude in bed. Unable to stay in one place, small hands gripping sheets, legs brushing along Sweden’s sides, head thrashing back and forth. Mouth forming half-vocalized pants, huffs, exhalations - and one low moan when Sweden swallowed him down in one motion.
Sweden observed as he worked, burning the view into his memory while one hand held a twitching hip down and the other refused to linger in one spot too long. Finland’s half-vocalizations became full ones, and the closer he got the more he instructed and encouraged Sweden. This was more akin to what Sweden was accustomed to - Finland was normally almost bossy in bed - he was glad Finland was lost enough in pleasure to finally lose his self-consciousness.
Finland brought his fingers to his lips - he was close - finally arched back off the bed with a cry and then up, deep, into Sweden’s throat. Sweden’s concentration was torn between Finland’s pulsing weight against his tongue and the sight he presented - sheen of sweat, twisted torso, and the absolutely gorgeous expression he always had when he came.
Finland dropped back down to the bed, satisfied smile firmly in place, and Sweden crawled up to lay beside him and scoop him up, pulling them together while Finland gathered his wits. Sweden ran a soothing up and down along Finland’s back, eventually digging his palm into the padded muscle as he went - broad, sweeping motions meant to calm. Once Finland’s breathing had steadied somewhat, Sweden pressed a kiss to his hairline. When he pulled back it was to meet Finland’s slightly glazed eyes.
The both moved forward at the same time and Sweden kept his eyes open for the kiss, mouthing ‘beautiful’ against Finland’s lips.
Finland smiled and broke away to yawn. “Hm, Sve? Did you say something?”
An embarrassed flush covered Sweden’s cheeks and he buried his head in Finland’s hair. “Said yer beautiful. An’ we should do somethin’ in the mornin’.”
Finland ducked his head under Sweden’s chin and curled against him. Sweden could feel Finland’s soft contours mold right into his harder lines - perfect. “Really?” Finland murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
“Yep.”
“O-okay. Well, um...we’ll see.” A yawn. “In the morning, because,” another, much longer yawn, “I’m really tired. Goodnight, Sve.”
“Mm. ‘Night.”
Finland’s quiet snores soon filled the room and Sweden tightened his hold around him, still quite awake in the dark. Much of the rest of the night was spent relishing in warm touches, and trying to figure out exactly how to put his feelings into the words he’d greet Finland with in the morning.
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Okay so I think I was on crack when I wrote this. Let's see, a character I’ve never written before, a pairing I don’t ship, a kink I don’t have, and SO MUCH SAP I NEED A SHOWER UGH GET IT OFF GET IT OFF. Yes, I rule, obviously. -_-;;
But it was another case where a prompt fits my headcanon so well I just had to. You see, in the middle ages some flab was viewed as quite attractive. I think Sweden would be into that, all like “I can pr’vide fer m’wife.” *goes super domestic and protective*
And hopefully my Finland isn’t fail I’ve never really written him before aaaack give me crit on this yesplz?
Rating: R
Pairing: Sweden/Finland/Sweden
Summary: Finland always gains weight during the holidays; Sweden’s pretty into it.
Warnings: A pretty weird kink, sexy times, tooth-rotting fluff and sap, and a little angst for good measure.
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The last night of Finland’s stay before he took off to prepare for the next session of Parliament, and Sweden was curled around him in bed, curtains drawn and room dark. Sweden sighed; a low pulse of want thrummed through him, spreading through his veins, rising up under his skin, low-lying electric current keeping him awake.
He knew Finland didn’t want to do anything, as he was always exhausted around Christmas. Sweden drew himself nearer to Finland under the covers. They never did anything sexual during the holidays unless Finland had been drinking, and even then it was always Sweden who did the work; a turnaround from their usual routine.
But still. He couldn’t keep his free hand from wandering, couldn’t stop pressing his larger form ever closer to Finland. Finland always gained weight over the holidays. A lot of weight. A noticeable amount of weight. His clothes, always a little baggy on him during the summer, filled out nicely, and Sweden couldn’t help observing.
On the couch, watching a movie while Sealand tried to stay awake on Sweden’s other side, and Finland’s curled-up position exaggerated the paunch of his stomach.
In the kitchen, where Finland flitted around from counter to stove and back, his shirt tightly wrinkling over his love handles when he reached up for something in the cabinet.
In the living room, decorating the Christmas tree - Finland and Sealand prattling on about everything, Sweden happily moving the ornaments at the top around over and over again according to their ever-changing whims - and Finland’s tightly stretched pants as he knelt on the floor, backside full and plump and oh-so-grabbable.
In bed in the morning, when Finland’s bright smile waking his groggy self up was made even cheerier than usual by his chubby cheeks.
And now. Lying in bed, and Finland was so much softer, melded to him so very easily, and there was just...so much more, it made him feel greedy, it made him burn with want, year after year. Sweden shifted, tucked his head over Finland’s and brought his nose to Finland’s hair. He let his lips brush the top of Finland’s head in a light kiss and draped a long arm over and down and around, pulling them flush together. He closed his eyes at the sensation of Finland’s cushioned middle yielding under his arm.
His erection pressed against Finland’s backside, and oh, was that ever nice.
“Sweden?”
“Mm?” Sweden ran a hand down Finland’s front, over the bedshirt, over the plump stomach, let it settle on the rounded curve of Finland’s hip.
Finland moved slightly; Sweden let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and he minutely jerked his hips, rubbing himself against a much more substantial behind than he was accustomed to.
“I...don’t know. I’m tired, Sve!”
“Yer leavin’ tomorrow.”
“W-well, yes...but I..I’m happy just cuddling with you too!”
“Mm.”
“No, really, it’s nice to be able to stay here with you and be lazy and comfortable.”
Sweden nodded against Finland’s head and marveled for the millionth time over how easily Finland could find the words. He couldn’t speak like Finland could, ever, he was never so open or expressive. He didn’t think Finland understood him at all sometimes, and the blame wasn’t on Finland. It was so frustrating. Finland was still jumpy around him at times, after all of these years, and Sweden was sure that if he could just speak...
His hand moved up Finland’s torso of its own accord, then traced back down, palm flat. It did nothing to assuage the heat between Sweden’s legs, but that wasn’t the point. He just liked touching Finland - especially when it was just the two of them, in the night quiet, and especially during the holidays.
A little lower, and his hand unexpectedly found Finland’s erection; Sweden squinted into Finland’s hair, confused.
“Y’sure?” he mumbled, palming Finland through layers of fabric. Finland’s breath hitched and Sweden pushed his erection against him once more in response.
“A-ah...I...oh...”
Sweden didn’t understand Finland’s reluctance, as he was holding the proof of Finland’s arousal right now. “’f it’s jus’ that yer tired...I can...y’don’t hafta do anythin’.” Was that what Finland was worried about? He needed to make it clear that he loved, loved, taking care of Finland’s every need, if that was the case. He’d happily do it all Christmas season; no, all year.
“I...yeah, that’s okay,” Finland sighed. “But it’s cold! We should stay under the covers.”
Sweden didn’t think it was cold, and Finland certainly didn’t feel cold, but before he could think too hard on that Sweden folded their bodies together, line-on-line, front-on-spine - and he couldn’t even feel Finland’s spine, oh God. He moved a hand roughly up Finland’s front and began work on the buttons when he was interrupted by Finland’s hand twisting in his.
“Can I leave my shirt on?”
Again, Sweden squinted down into Finland’s hair, but simply moved his hand down to the waistband of Finland’s pajamas instead. Slowly. Haltingly. He couldn’t resist lingering over the bulky, pliant flesh underneath the shirt. Cozy, comfortable, so tempting. He thrust against Finland even as he pulled pants and underpants down.
Wasn’t Finland hot? He had to be, Sweden thought as he shimmied out of his own clothing - a hard task, as he was trying to remain as glued to Finland as possible the entire time - he was sweating, and - so was Finland.
Sweden’s slippery hands slid down Finland’s thighs under the blankets, Finland’s skin there wet with perspiration as well.
He pushed the pads of his fingers into Finland’s thigh, running back up to his inner thighs; Finland sighed, pleased and wanting all at once. Sweden slid his entire hand up, back down, barely squeezing. Finland’s thighs were so supple, bigger than Sweden was used to, and just the thought of that has him wantonly thrusting against Finland’s backside, penis slick from sweat and leaking fluid.
Sweden let the head slide crudely up the curve of Finland’s ass, up to well-padded hips. Slow motions, back and forth, even though the fire in him demanded more. His desperate breathing wasn’t matching up with Finland’s.
He moved up on one elbow, curling over Finland’s body to mouth at his ear. Finland always did like that, and the half-sigh half-keen that greeted the room made Sweden smile into the kisses he was peppering along Finland’s ear, jaw, cheeks. Oh those cheeks.
Once Finland was appropriately mewling under Sweden’s mouth, Sweden scooted down, legs sliding together, prying apart, and placed his cock between Finland’s moist thighs.
An awkward shift of the arm holding him up, and Sweden dug his hand under Finland to play with a nipple through his shirt. Finland’s moan and the feel of that extra flesh, fitting perfectly into his palm, caused him to throw his leg over Finland’s and press those lovely thighs down over him.
One slick, testing thrust resulted in Sweden’s low groan into Finland’s ear; he could definitely tell there was more to those thighs than usual. They molded against him, surrounded him, engulfed him.
He moved his hips. More friction, heat, sweat-sliding, skin gliding against skin. Finland’s hand joined his for a moment, over his chest; Sweden huffed and nipped Finland’s ear. Moved his other hand to Finland’s hip, dug under the shirt - oh.
Finland pushed back against him even as Sweden surged up and half-covered him, using his hand to grab Finland’s middle and tightly mash their bodies together - and Finland’s waist was just as wide as his, now.
He tightened and bowed against Finland with a groan, burying his face into Finland’s neck even as he buried his cock between cushy thighs, spurts of semen smearing and making it smoother, wetter, better - and grabbed Finland’s stomach, hips, searching, jerky, hopefully not too harsh but gods right then it was imperative that he have as much Finland as possible in his hands - both hands, he tried not to squeeze Finland’s chest too hard.
He came to wrapped tightly against Finland, and let his hands fall lax as he steadied his breathing. Finland’s pulse thundered against his ear, against his mouth; Sweden smiled, barely, closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
The peace didn’t last long; another ten seconds and Finland had shifted onto his back and he was babbling “Oh, wow, I’m sorry! I-I guess it’s been a while, huh?”
Sweden stared down at him. He was sorry? For what?
Finland chuckled and shifted underneath him, twitchy. “I just mean...um. You usually..last longer? I guess I’ve been too busy to-”
Sweden grunted and cut him off with a soft kiss. Then he pulled back and shook his head, arm groping for his underwear, discarded somewhere in the sheets in the heat of the moment.
“What are you doing, Sve?”
“Don’ be sorry,” Sweden muttered, gently wiping down Finland’s thighs under the covers even while bending down to press soft kisses to his neck.
A barely audible “oh” of encouragement met Sweden’s ears and he continued up, soft skin, soft jaw, round face, small ears. Shifted on top of Finland, just a bit more, the greater weight of his body pressing Finland down into the mattress. Finland’s arms rose to circle his middle, palms pressing lightly into the taut ridges of his back. And finally, finally, his hips arched up against Sweden’s thigh.
Sweden brought one large hand up to cup Finland’s face - a perfect fit, he thought - and dropped kisses, bare presses of chapped lips, against the smooth skin of Finland’s cheeks. He wanted to nuzzle into them. He did; Finland laughed, right into his ear, not skittish chuckles but true laughter, high and surprised. That was good.
Chest-to-chest and Sweden could feel the differences between their builds in detail. He was still so much larger than Finland, of course, but for whatever reason Finland’s holiday physique always took the edge off of Sweden’s usual fear that he was crushing his lover.
Still, Sweden remained propped on his elbows as his mouth dragged over to meet Finland’s. Finland met him, heatedly this time, and Sweden felt the familiar jolt that always ran down his spine at the sensation - Finland’s odd brand of tender ferocity in bed never failed to make his breath hitch, just for a second.
Finland’s tongue met his and he happily surrendered to his mouth to the mild assault. Sweden was down from his high enough to concentrate on the fact that Finland’s kisses were very much like Finland himself. Mellow and gentle until something provoked him.
Finland had always been perfectly able to take care of himself. That spine of steel underlying a soft heart was a combination that still left Sweden awestruck on occasion, even centuries later - yet he still got protective, he simply couldn’t help it, and it was always nicer when Finland was a little filled out and looked more capable of holding his own. It was always nicer when the body underneath his wasn’t quite so much smaller - it reminded him too much of the past, the awkwardness of that relationship, of not being equals.
Sweden liked being equals. He was happier; he thought Finland was happier, too.
None of this he had ever been able to express in words, though he’s tried. Sweden supposed actions would have to do.
So he kissed back, hot and heady, mouths and tongues and after a minute, a bit of teeth. Drew his hand up, played along the buttons of Finland’s shirt and then back down to knead his hips, other elbow still propped half-up and hand cupping Finland’s face.
Lowered himself to a more subtle line of collarbone exposed by Finland’s skewed shirt and chuckled a low “Yer eager.”
Lowered himself further, running his nose along Finland’s new curves, dragging the covers down with him.
Stopped to hover above Finland’s straining erection and finally to tongue at it, garnering a whimper for his efforts. For a fleeting instant Sweden left both hands on pudgy hips, then brought a hand up to unbutton that pesky shirt.
Finland moved away, sheets bunching in tight lines up the bed and Sweden automatically moved up to follow.
“Don’t do that...” Finland breathed.
Sweden paused with his mouth half-over Finland’s tip and looked up, then mumbled an “Mm?” that was sure to be pleasurable.
“Sve,” Finland panted, “it’s just that...a-ah well I’ve kind of gained some weight? And...um...”
Sweden swallowed him down and drew back up, looking at Finland all the while, fingers tracing mild lines up curve of Finland’s abdomen. Finland reached down and carefully pushed Sweden’s hand away, a nervous grin on his face.
Sweden pulled all the way off and stared at Finland a moment, a slight frown on his face. “Please?”
“U-uh..really?” Finland asked, voice sounding high and thready and weak. Not at all like Finland normally sounded. Normally he was quiet, but there was at least some measure of confidence.
Sweden nodded - yes, really - and when Finland’s only response was to relax, slightly, Sweden decided to take care of it the only way he knew how. He answered with roaming, groping hands, swipes of tongue, the occasional nuzzle - appreciative jerky patterns all over Finland’s body. Pushed the shirt up, followed the exposed skin with ardent kisses and hot breaths, a thorough exploration that made Finland shudder under his arms.
Finland was so soft.
So much softer than Sweden was, as always, in every way; soft smile, soft eyes with their dull luminescence, his quiet way of speaking that embraced whoever he was talking to, friendly with everyone. He wasn’t scary at all like Sweden; nations the world over had an easy time approaching him. And this time of year it was like his body was the outward manifestation of that. Pampered, welcoming, inviting, forgiving - everything Sweden wasn’t.
And if he gained weight indulging in the bounty of the season, that was okay.
And if he drank a little too much, let himself go for a while, that was okay too.
Finland didn’t indulge enough, and when he did, Sweden delighted in it.
The shirt came unbuttoned, fully; Sweden slid up Finland’s chest even as he slid the material down Finland’s arms. Large hands finally got to caress unadulterated skin, nothing between them - as it should be.
“You’re really - it’s okay?” came Finland’s voice, in soft, uncertain pants.
“Mm,” Sweden grunted against his collarbone, then placed hasty kisses up his neck and threaded a hand through Finland’s silky hair. When they were finally eye-to-eye, Sweden took a deep breath. “Yer beautiful,” he stated, bashful and quiet.
Finland looked away; Sweden brushed unhurried kisses to his eyelids and caught his gaze when they opened again. They simply looked at each other.
“Lemme take care of ya. I don’ mind.”
Finland didn’t look away this time. “If you’re sure...”
“M’sure.” Finland, however, didn’t look sure. Sweden barely refrained from frowning - that wouldn’t give the right message - but apparently Finland needed vocal reassurance. He always was the communicative one. “M’sure,” Sweden repeated, and awkwardly added “I kinda like it.”
“What?!”
“Mm, yeah. ‘s cute.”
Finland huffed and Sweden belatedly remembered that Finland didn’t care much for being called cute.
“Ah, jus’ lemme show ya. Please.” And with that hands and mouth resumed their slow worship, starting with Finland’s mouth, hair, neck, and moving lower, taking their time. Further and further down, exploring, indulging in the chance to appreciate Finland like this because who knew when that would happen again, and the further along he got the more undone Finland became.
By the time his mouth was ghosting over the hair below Finland’s navel - his hands rubbing up and down supple thighs, squeezing round hips, fingertips ghosting and gripping anywhere they could reach - Finland was nearly back to his usual attitude in bed. Unable to stay in one place, small hands gripping sheets, legs brushing along Sweden’s sides, head thrashing back and forth. Mouth forming half-vocalized pants, huffs, exhalations - and one low moan when Sweden swallowed him down in one motion.
Sweden observed as he worked, burning the view into his memory while one hand held a twitching hip down and the other refused to linger in one spot too long. Finland’s half-vocalizations became full ones, and the closer he got the more he instructed and encouraged Sweden. This was more akin to what Sweden was accustomed to - Finland was normally almost bossy in bed - he was glad Finland was lost enough in pleasure to finally lose his self-consciousness.
Finland brought his fingers to his lips - he was close - finally arched back off the bed with a cry and then up, deep, into Sweden’s throat. Sweden’s concentration was torn between Finland’s pulsing weight against his tongue and the sight he presented - sheen of sweat, twisted torso, and the absolutely gorgeous expression he always had when he came.
Finland dropped back down to the bed, satisfied smile firmly in place, and Sweden crawled up to lay beside him and scoop him up, pulling them together while Finland gathered his wits. Sweden ran a soothing up and down along Finland’s back, eventually digging his palm into the padded muscle as he went - broad, sweeping motions meant to calm. Once Finland’s breathing had steadied somewhat, Sweden pressed a kiss to his hairline. When he pulled back it was to meet Finland’s slightly glazed eyes.
The both moved forward at the same time and Sweden kept his eyes open for the kiss, mouthing ‘beautiful’ against Finland’s lips.
Finland smiled and broke away to yawn. “Hm, Sve? Did you say something?”
An embarrassed flush covered Sweden’s cheeks and he buried his head in Finland’s hair. “Said yer beautiful. An’ we should do somethin’ in the mornin’.”
Finland ducked his head under Sweden’s chin and curled against him. Sweden could feel Finland’s soft contours mold right into his harder lines - perfect. “Really?” Finland murmured, voice heavy with sleep.
“Yep.”
“O-okay. Well, um...we’ll see.” A yawn. “In the morning, because,” another, much longer yawn, “I’m really tired. Goodnight, Sve.”
“Mm. ‘Night.”
Finland’s quiet snores soon filled the room and Sweden tightened his hold around him, still quite awake in the dark. Much of the rest of the night was spent relishing in warm touches, and trying to figure out exactly how to put his feelings into the words he’d greet Finland with in the morning.
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Okay so I think I was on crack when I wrote this. Let's see, a character I’ve never written before, a pairing I don’t ship, a kink I don’t have, and SO MUCH SAP I NEED A SHOWER UGH GET IT OFF GET IT OFF. Yes, I rule, obviously. -_-;;
But it was another case where a prompt fits my headcanon so well I just had to. You see, in the middle ages some flab was viewed as quite attractive. I think Sweden would be into that, all like “I can pr’vide fer m’wife.” *goes super domestic and protective*
And hopefully my Finland isn’t fail I’ve never really written him before aaaack give me crit on this yesplz?