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hetalia2011-09-27 03:54 pm
himarules.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2011-09-27 03:54 pm
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] Stay the Night
Title: Stay the Night
Author/Artist: HimaRules
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Denmark/Norway.
Rating: T: Romance
Warnings: Possibly out-of-character; mainly fluff.
Summary: If there was one thing Norway could say, it was this: Denmark was the stubborn, silver-tongued kind. One-Shot.
"Norge."
There was a frown playing on the younger nation's lips―as it always was when the elder nation was near―and the said blond refused to comply.
Relenting a bit, the elder Nordic smiled a bit stronger this time as he tugged at his companions shirt-tail. Which, had he been paying attention, only earned him a glare―but he was rather intent on getting his current point across. In all honesty, he figured, he really was not asking for much. Actually, Norway should feel rather thankful he was going out of his way to invite him!, he thought to himself. It was not as if it were the first time he asked of such a favor.
Most certainly, 'twas it not his initial try.
"Norge, stay."
The phrase was nothing like a command, but in the smaller blond's ears, it certainly seemed that way. At least, it worked like so; his body losing its previous tension, softening in the other's hold as he allowed himself to return to their shared bed. Some part of him felt utterly ashamed with how easy it had been this time; but really, who was he trying to fool anymore? Norway certainly had no idea.
He had thoroughly comprehended his own yearning for the Dane centuries ago.
Planting a soft kiss on his bare nape, before idly tracing the discolored bruise on narrow hips (which he had made minutes prior); Denmark smiled against his marginally damp skin. He thrived on the scent that lingered; of himself, of his Norge, of the wonderful bliss they had just achieved. It was magnificent, a scent that blew any other smell out of the water. That much, Denmark knew.
"Thank you."
Norway's eyes had widened significantly, expression set in utter awe. Although the testimony had not been spoken aloud―rather, he felt them worded against his slowly flushing skin―the deeper significance the words held only multiplied.
He flushed into shades of a dozen pink, initially struggling as the Dane's hands began roaming his pleasured body. However, he stood stock still as luxurious lips pressed against his flushed ear, uttering the most sinful of phrases.
"I love you."
Without another chance at seduction, Norway swiveled in the embrace and shut him up with his still-swollen lips.
Norway's only reply, as every other time, had been a moaned "I-idiot."
And the Dane would not have accepted any other.
Author/Artist: HimaRules
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Denmark/Norway.
Rating: T: Romance
Warnings: Possibly out-of-character; mainly fluff.
Summary: If there was one thing Norway could say, it was this: Denmark was the stubborn, silver-tongued kind. One-Shot.
"Norge."
There was a frown playing on the younger nation's lips―as it always was when the elder nation was near―and the said blond refused to comply.
Relenting a bit, the elder Nordic smiled a bit stronger this time as he tugged at his companions shirt-tail. Which, had he been paying attention, only earned him a glare―but he was rather intent on getting his current point across. In all honesty, he figured, he really was not asking for much. Actually, Norway should feel rather thankful he was going out of his way to invite him!, he thought to himself. It was not as if it were the first time he asked of such a favor.
Most certainly, 'twas it not his initial try.
"Norge, stay."
The phrase was nothing like a command, but in the smaller blond's ears, it certainly seemed that way. At least, it worked like so; his body losing its previous tension, softening in the other's hold as he allowed himself to return to their shared bed. Some part of him felt utterly ashamed with how easy it had been this time; but really, who was he trying to fool anymore? Norway certainly had no idea.
He had thoroughly comprehended his own yearning for the Dane centuries ago.
Planting a soft kiss on his bare nape, before idly tracing the discolored bruise on narrow hips (which he had made minutes prior); Denmark smiled against his marginally damp skin. He thrived on the scent that lingered; of himself, of his Norge, of the wonderful bliss they had just achieved. It was magnificent, a scent that blew any other smell out of the water. That much, Denmark knew.
"Thank you."
Norway's eyes had widened significantly, expression set in utter awe. Although the testimony had not been spoken aloud―rather, he felt them worded against his slowly flushing skin―the deeper significance the words held only multiplied.
He flushed into shades of a dozen pink, initially struggling as the Dane's hands began roaming his pleasured body. However, he stood stock still as luxurious lips pressed against his flushed ear, uttering the most sinful of phrases.
"I love you."
Without another chance at seduction, Norway swiveled in the embrace and shut him up with his still-swollen lips.
Norway's only reply, as every other time, had been a moaned "I-idiot."
And the Dane would not have accepted any other.
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