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.
Sight of You [2/?]
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.