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Denmark's mind was gradually overrun by bliss, leisurely creeping into every nook and cranny as he dreamed of his love. His chest tingled, muscles tightening as he breathed in slowly, indulging in the most wonderful fantasy. He smiled in delight as heat lazily pooled in his groin. He sucked in a breath at a particularly strong wave of pleasure. He couldn't differentiate between dreamland and reality, but he seriously hoped Norway was up for some morning loving when he woke up. The pleasure was beginning to overwhelm him and he was finding it more difficult to exhale completely, breathing in short gasps of ecstasy.
"Ahh!" He awoke with a deep groan, vaguely aware that an orgasm had overtaken his body and mind. He was more concerned with what his body had reacted to that cause his climax in the first place.
Denmark slowly opened his eyes, surprised to find his pajama shirt unbuttoned and his nipples red and hard. The blanket he had wrapped himself in before falling asleep was pooled around his waist and one of his lower limbs was bent up, giving the impression of a red fleece tent between his legs where the sensual heat remained. And then the tent moved.
"Huh?" He threw the blanket back, equally astonished and turned on by the scene in front of him; Norway was completely engrossed in cleaning the come off of his lower half. And, damn, had he come a lot. "Norge, what are you doing?" He could barely form the question as he watched and felt himself being licked and sucked to hardness once again.
Norway looked up casually and damn did he look sexy with a bit of Denmark's come at the corner of his mouth, gold cross glimmering in the first rays of sun. He ran a finger up his lover's erection teasingly, his eyebrow raised as if to say, Did you want me to stop?
"Ugh, Norge, what do you have to be so freaking adorable?" Denmark moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow in defeat. He had wanted to wrench the delectable nation up by his hair and capture his lips and taste himself in that enticingly dirty mouth. But the anxiety of getting blue balls because Norway was probably too stubborn to go back down on him after being yanked away was more than enough to leave his lover down there to finish the job. He gasped and twitched and groaned as Norway continued to satisfy him. When he felt himself get close, he tried to get his partner's attention, tapping his hip with the side of his foot. "Norge, lift up your head so I can come on your face..." He begged, drowning in bliss.
"You already came on my face once today." He grumbled, the tip of Denmark's cock resting against his bottom lip tauntingly.
"But I didn't get to see it!"
"That's your own damn fault."
"Oh, come on, please, Norge!"
Norway huffed and raised his head, looking pointedly at Denmark before wrapping his hands around the erection that had just been in his mouth. Denmark knew he liked giving blow jobs more than hand jobs and he smiled at the thought that Norway actually did what he said even though he didn't want to. Truth was, Denmark was completely enamored with the sight of Norway's face twisted in concentration as he pumped; he was overwhelmed by blond hair pulled back by that clip, revealing a bewitching icy orb of blue that bore into his soul. Someday, he was going to tie Norway to the bed and see just how many times he could climax over that pretty little face. The thought pushed him over the edge and with one final ugh he coated his lover's face in his release. He watched anxiously as Norway licked and wiped, swallowing all the come that had landed on his face, not breaking eye contact through the entire display.
When Denmark's patience ran out, he grasped a handful of soft hair and pulled, eliciting a grunt of annoyance from the blond, upset at being interrupted in the middle of licking come off of his thumb. When Norway was straddling his torso, Denmark jerked his hand away to engage that now unoccupied mouth in a demanding kiss.
"Ahh!" He awoke with a deep groan, vaguely aware that an orgasm had overtaken his body and mind. He was more concerned with what his body had reacted to that cause his climax in the first place.
Denmark slowly opened his eyes, surprised to find his pajama shirt unbuttoned and his nipples red and hard. The blanket he had wrapped himself in before falling asleep was pooled around his waist and one of his lower limbs was bent up, giving the impression of a red fleece tent between his legs where the sensual heat remained. And then the tent moved.
"Huh?" He threw the blanket back, equally astonished and turned on by the scene in front of him; Norway was completely engrossed in cleaning the come off of his lower half. And, damn, had he come a lot. "Norge, what are you doing?" He could barely form the question as he watched and felt himself being licked and sucked to hardness once again.
Norway looked up casually and damn did he look sexy with a bit of Denmark's come at the corner of his mouth, gold cross glimmering in the first rays of sun. He ran a finger up his lover's erection teasingly, his eyebrow raised as if to say, Did you want me to stop?
"Ugh, Norge, what do you have to be so freaking adorable?" Denmark moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow in defeat. He had wanted to wrench the delectable nation up by his hair and capture his lips and taste himself in that enticingly dirty mouth. But the anxiety of getting blue balls because Norway was probably too stubborn to go back down on him after being yanked away was more than enough to leave his lover down there to finish the job. He gasped and twitched and groaned as Norway continued to satisfy him. When he felt himself get close, he tried to get his partner's attention, tapping his hip with the side of his foot. "Norge, lift up your head so I can come on your face..." He begged, drowning in bliss.
"You already came on my face once today." He grumbled, the tip of Denmark's cock resting against his bottom lip tauntingly.
"But I didn't get to see it!"
"That's your own damn fault."
"Oh, come on, please, Norge!"
Norway huffed and raised his head, looking pointedly at Denmark before wrapping his hands around the erection that had just been in his mouth. Denmark knew he liked giving blow jobs more than hand jobs and he smiled at the thought that Norway actually did what he said even though he didn't want to. Truth was, Denmark was completely enamored with the sight of Norway's face twisted in concentration as he pumped; he was overwhelmed by blond hair pulled back by that clip, revealing a bewitching icy orb of blue that bore into his soul. Someday, he was going to tie Norway to the bed and see just how many times he could climax over that pretty little face. The thought pushed him over the edge and with one final ugh he coated his lover's face in his release. He watched anxiously as Norway licked and wiped, swallowing all the come that had landed on his face, not breaking eye contact through the entire display.
When Denmark's patience ran out, he grasped a handful of soft hair and pulled, eliciting a grunt of annoyance from the blond, upset at being interrupted in the middle of licking come off of his thumb. When Norway was straddling his torso, Denmark jerked his hand away to engage that now unoccupied mouth in a demanding kiss.
"You're insatiable." Norway muttered when they finally pulled apart to breathe. Later, he was going to very forcefully remind Denmark that if he was ever hauled up by his hair again, even if it resulted in an incredible make-out session, his Viking days would look like a vacation compared to the hell Norway would put him through.
"You're the one who woke me up with a blow job." Denmark smiled arrogantly.
"You're an idiot."
"But I'm your idiot."
"Yeah, well, my idiot better be up again in the next ten seconds before I dig out that vibrator he bought me for my birthday and take care of my problem myself."
Sunlight peaked through the thin curtains as Denmark pinned his lover down and began to rid him of his clothes.
END.
The title refers to the time between dawn and sunrise (or conversely sunset and dusk) because Norway wakes up right before dawn and his fun ends (and begins again) at sunrise. Also, the first part is Norway's POV, the second is Denmark's, and the third is back to Norway - I took the dividers out because I separated it for the character count. Hope that makes sense. Phew.
Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!
"You're the one who woke me up with a blow job." Denmark smiled arrogantly.
"You're an idiot."
"But I'm your idiot."
"Yeah, well, my idiot better be up again in the next ten seconds before I dig out that vibrator he bought me for my birthday and take care of my problem myself."
Sunlight peaked through the thin curtains as Denmark pinned his lover down and began to rid him of his clothes.
END.
The title refers to the time between dawn and sunrise (or conversely sunset and dusk) because Norway wakes up right before dawn and his fun ends (and begins again) at sunrise. Also, the first part is Norway's POV, the second is Denmark's, and the third is back to Norway - I took the dividers out because I separated it for the character count. Hope that makes sense. Phew.
Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!
OP is back. The plot thickens! Sorry about the long comments. OP also have a habit of rambling. Don't let me be too pushy, because you're the author here. And you're doing a great job! Thank you so much for filling this!
I'm enjoying Belarus's perspective and the dynamics between her and Lithuania. I'm guessing there's a reason why she's being halfway decent to him right now. Actually, I don't feel that the interconnected rooms are unrealistic. A lot of older, fancy houses have secret passageways or hiding spots. And what voyeur smut would be complete without a secret hiding spot? I felt that actually was a plus that you included that detail. And the Poland and Russia mentions are fine.
I'm glad that you don't mind the constructive criticism. It's nothing personal, and I'm not trying to be mean. It's just something I view as good ethics. You filled my request, so as a reader, giving you feedback is my way of saying "Thank you!" (Yes, I know I'm rambling again. Poke me if I get bothersome.)
1. If its post-Soviet Union, what is everyone doing at Russia's place? Or is this occurring as the Soviet Union is falling, where Poland and Hungary have already left, but before Lithuania declares independence from the Soviet Union? Or is there another reason? That's just a little history plot hole. This is still salvageable though if you give a reason why they're at Russia's.
2. You had two little perspective flip-flops occurring with Lithuania and Belarus. "Lithuania couldn’t really blame her, if she really hadn’t noticed before." Everything before that statement and directly after this is from Belarus's perspective. This snippit is coming from Lithuania's perspective. Unless we're in a POV where we are able to access everyone's thoughts, we should not have access to Lithuania's thoughts. This happens again at "He could remember fighting the former Ottoman Empire with Poland, and boy, he didn’t want to face that again." Are you indicating a perspective change here? If not, it shouldn't be mentioned.
3. Lithuania the Lithuanian? Seen here: "the Lithuanian’s". This description of Lithuania is repetitive. If he was going by the name Toris or if we didn't know his name, then using "the Lithuanian" would be appropriate.
4. It is a bit jarring to hear both Belarus "Natalya". Everyone else is being called by their national name. It would be one thing if this is some nickname that Lithuania has given her or if its an alias she responds to. But then it would be appropriate to call everyone by their human names. And explaining why Lithuania keeps doing this might be a bit of character development.
Overall, I love how the story's developing, and I'm looking forward to the next post. Don't stop being fabulous!
I'm enjoying Belarus's perspective and the dynamics between her and Lithuania. I'm guessing there's a reason why she's being halfway decent to him right now. Actually, I don't feel that the interconnected rooms are unrealistic. A lot of older, fancy houses have secret passageways or hiding spots. And what voyeur smut would be complete without a secret hiding spot? I felt that actually was a plus that you included that detail. And the Poland and Russia mentions are fine.
I'm glad that you don't mind the constructive criticism. It's nothing personal, and I'm not trying to be mean. It's just something I view as good ethics. You filled my request, so as a reader, giving you feedback is my way of saying "Thank you!" (Yes, I know I'm rambling again. Poke me if I get bothersome.)
1. If its post-Soviet Union, what is everyone doing at Russia's place? Or is this occurring as the Soviet Union is falling, where Poland and Hungary have already left, but before Lithuania declares independence from the Soviet Union? Or is there another reason? That's just a little history plot hole. This is still salvageable though if you give a reason why they're at Russia's.
2. You had two little perspective flip-flops occurring with Lithuania and Belarus. "Lithuania couldn’t really blame her, if she really hadn’t noticed before." Everything before that statement and directly after this is from Belarus's perspective. This snippit is coming from Lithuania's perspective. Unless we're in a POV where we are able to access everyone's thoughts, we should not have access to Lithuania's thoughts. This happens again at "He could remember fighting the former Ottoman Empire with Poland, and boy, he didn’t want to face that again." Are you indicating a perspective change here? If not, it shouldn't be mentioned.
3. Lithuania the Lithuanian? Seen here: "the Lithuanian’s". This description of Lithuania is repetitive. If he was going by the name Toris or if we didn't know his name, then using "the Lithuanian" would be appropriate.
4. It is a bit jarring to hear both Belarus "Natalya". Everyone else is being called by their national name. It would be one thing if this is some nickname that Lithuania has given her or if its an alias she responds to. But then it would be appropriate to call everyone by their human names. And explaining why Lithuania keeps doing this might be a bit of character development.
Overall, I love how the story's developing, and I'm looking forward to the next post. Don't stop being fabulous!
I think Scotland would think the title was for TMI: too much information!
I'm on the fence too. You've presented two equally delicious scenarios. I'm interested in seeing more of Ukraine and Turkey. However, you really have been doing well with Belarus; I enjoyed her harsh and intimidating personality in part 1. That was just spot on. And there's so much potential with our voyeurs. And the wording of the request implies that more attention should be given to the voyeurs. But I'll leave that up to you. Take the reins on this one.
((Well folks, this isn't as long as I'd hoped to make chapter four, but since I've not been able to type anything up for a few days I Was itching to get back at it since I finished a few things! School's getting more under control so let's all hope it stays that way and I can get more written up soon(tomorrow maybe!)Ugh. College. Anyway, here you go!))
"Alfred?!"
"Wha…?"
It was four am in the US. Hardly the time for any kind of call that wasn't an emergency. Pity for Alfred that Arthur thought this was one. Avoidance was bad enough, but he was going on four months of no one seeing the other nation, and that in and of itself was strange. Here was a man who so typically enjoyed traveling, visiting others, at the very least convincing them to get on the computer so that they could chat on webcam. And now he was flat our refusing, excuses at every corner. And that was why he decided on a call first thing in the morning. Worst of all, Alfred hardly sounded as if he'd been asleep ten minutes, though he also sounded exhausted.
Alfred hadn't been, and was just as tired as Arthur supposed. Everything yo-yoed between more difficult and easier. Sometimes the feelings of being hungry faded entirely, or were at least a dull gnawing, easy to ignore. Other times they were sharp and terrible. He'd found himself eating celery, supposedly having no calories and a high water content. It gave him vitamins, was healthy… What was the problem? He didn't have a problem, no siree. He was on a diet and doing damn well.
"Alfred?!" he heard again, blinking a few times.
"Will you quit yelling in my ear? Man, it's… It's four?! Why are you calling?"
'You keep falling asleep', Arthur though irritably but refrained from saying anything. "Oh, is it? Silly me, forgetting those time zones. Such a nuisance. Tell me Alfred, how've you been lately?"
He stared at the glow of his phone in the dim room for a few moments before holding it back to his ear. "Uh… I'm cool. Yup. Arthur… Dude, are you drunk or something?"
"Excuse me?! What are- Ahem. No.. Sorry, no. I'm not. It's far too early to be drinking anyway."
"Okaaay…" Alfred was officially weirder out. Arthur was acting nothing like himself. "Then what's wrong with you? Did something happen and you're calling for help or…" He trailed off in a loud, jaw cracking yawn that left Arthur feeling guilty.
If he's really that tired… No. "Me? Nothing's wrong with me. I just hadn't heard anything from you in a while and I thought I'd check up on you. Can't have any harm coming to a superpower, hm?"
"Yeah, exactly. I can't get hurt. Man, Arthur, you're acting really weird. I'm gonna go back to bed if you didn't just bash your head off the wall or something else dumb. I'll talk to you later." His tone was much snippier than usual, strange for someone so terribly (irritatingly) optimistic. And before Arthur knew it his phone was beeping to let him know the other caller had hung up before going silent. He sighed as he looked at the brick like phone Alfred had gifted him, the worry that continued to eat away at him only increasing. Something was most definitely wrong.
"Alfred?!"
"Wha…?"
It was four am in the US. Hardly the time for any kind of call that wasn't an emergency. Pity for Alfred that Arthur thought this was one. Avoidance was bad enough, but he was going on four months of no one seeing the other nation, and that in and of itself was strange. Here was a man who so typically enjoyed traveling, visiting others, at the very least convincing them to get on the computer so that they could chat on webcam. And now he was flat our refusing, excuses at every corner. And that was why he decided on a call first thing in the morning. Worst of all, Alfred hardly sounded as if he'd been asleep ten minutes, though he also sounded exhausted.
Alfred hadn't been, and was just as tired as Arthur supposed. Everything yo-yoed between more difficult and easier. Sometimes the feelings of being hungry faded entirely, or were at least a dull gnawing, easy to ignore. Other times they were sharp and terrible. He'd found himself eating celery, supposedly having no calories and a high water content. It gave him vitamins, was healthy… What was the problem? He didn't have a problem, no siree. He was on a diet and doing damn well.
"Alfred?!" he heard again, blinking a few times.
"Will you quit yelling in my ear? Man, it's… It's four?! Why are you calling?"
'You keep falling asleep', Arthur though irritably but refrained from saying anything. "Oh, is it? Silly me, forgetting those time zones. Such a nuisance. Tell me Alfred, how've you been lately?"
He stared at the glow of his phone in the dim room for a few moments before holding it back to his ear. "Uh… I'm cool. Yup. Arthur… Dude, are you drunk or something?"
"Excuse me?! What are- Ahem. No.. Sorry, no. I'm not. It's far too early to be drinking anyway."
"Okaaay…" Alfred was officially weirder out. Arthur was acting nothing like himself. "Then what's wrong with you? Did something happen and you're calling for help or…" He trailed off in a loud, jaw cracking yawn that left Arthur feeling guilty.
If he's really that tired… No. "Me? Nothing's wrong with me. I just hadn't heard anything from you in a while and I thought I'd check up on you. Can't have any harm coming to a superpower, hm?"
"Yeah, exactly. I can't get hurt. Man, Arthur, you're acting really weird. I'm gonna go back to bed if you didn't just bash your head off the wall or something else dumb. I'll talk to you later." His tone was much snippier than usual, strange for someone so terribly (irritatingly) optimistic. And before Arthur knew it his phone was beeping to let him know the other caller had hung up before going silent. He sighed as he looked at the brick like phone Alfred had gifted him, the worry that continued to eat away at him only increasing. Something was most definitely wrong.
Hot damn, this was beautiful. Norway's face full of brogurt is quite the delightful mental image :D Also, holy shit--Denmark's quick recovering powers. Not bad.
Please continue delighting us with your wonderful intake on this couple! This was great!
Please continue delighting us with your wonderful intake on this couple! This was great!
It's rare to see Norway's self-reflection on his own complicated character and on how much he appreciates somebody like Denmark in his life. Such a cute fic, I like how they stay in character yet their relationship is functional and happy.
(could it be that the recent DenNor goodness on kink meme has the same author? Either way, great job!)
(could it be that the recent DenNor goodness on kink meme has the same author? Either way, great job!)
Author!Anon here! I don't mind the ramblings. They make me feel special.
I understand what you mean about the constructive criticism.
1. Ah, sorry for the confusion. It's post-Soviet, but the group are meant to be over for a visit. I think I hinted to something like that in the first post, but I guess I should be a bit clearer about that. There should be some more explanations further on, such as why Lithuania agreed to help Russia and why Ukraine invited Turkey over.
2. I was planning a perspective which included everyone's thoughts, but I guess Belarus is just a lot of fun to write. Maybe if I split each POV into separate parts?
3. I've seen so many people use that, it just became normal for me to use that. I'll refrain from that.
4. There is a reason Lithuania is calling Belarus by her human name. There will be a couple of other instances of human names used, but I'll try and get this reason out in the next part or so.
I understand what you mean about the constructive criticism.
1. Ah, sorry for the confusion. It's post-Soviet, but the group are meant to be over for a visit. I think I hinted to something like that in the first post, but I guess I should be a bit clearer about that. There should be some more explanations further on, such as why Lithuania agreed to help Russia and why Ukraine invited Turkey over.
2. I was planning a perspective which included everyone's thoughts, but I guess Belarus is just a lot of fun to write. Maybe if I split each POV into separate parts?
3. I've seen so many people use that, it just became normal for me to use that. I'll refrain from that.
4. There is a reason Lithuania is calling Belarus by her human name. There will be a couple of other instances of human names used, but I'll try and get this reason out in the next part or so.
This fill is so brilliant so far! I can't wait to read more!
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [1/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)MASSIVE MONSTER DELAY for which I'm sorry, as I am for the bad writing (Most of it is unproductive nonsense. Nothing worked as I wanted it D:) and the length of this thing. Also, more 'lengthy' things to come (see what I did there? NO I'M NOT SORRY FOR THAT)and--OP. You may want to stop checking from your phone. I know you are a rebel, an antichrist and anarchist, though, so you'll do what yer wild heart tells you, huh? xD Notes at the end, illustrations as links in the story. Enjoy!
Second Attempt: Laugardagr and a Man at a Loss II
Leiknir’s eyes wandered over his naked body in a way that could have seemed lascivious if Tino hadn’t been absolutely sure that they didn’t really care, but they fixed right at his face when he said, “I wanted to talk to you”.
The Finn sat down next to the naked wizard. “Then talk” he said.
Leiknir looked over the stream he’d been bathing in again, taking the washcloth and squeezing it over his chest. The water ran down in tiny rivulets, not unlike it had on Berwald a few minutes earlier; Leiknir wasn’t all that muscular, but his skin sure looked smooth. It was quite the sight, too.
“It is known amongst us that your folk possesses… powers. I know no stories of Finns that do not contain at least one powerful sorcerer, and I know of men who bought ropes tied to knots from your people because loosening these knots is sure to give good sailing winds.”
He stopped his words to glance at him again from half-lidded eyes, and in them was perhaps the slightest sparkle: Tino thought that maybe this subject truly interested him. Then Leiknir gracefully raised a long leg out of the water, stretching and flexing it once before briefly grazing it with the washcloth, still observing him.
He was good at this, but two could play this game… and Tino had no doubt that the one losing would eventually be Leiknir.
***
Berwald was a man of silence and few words and graceful, feline strength. If one were to compare him to an animal, the closest to him would be the great lion, an almost mythological beast only some Vikings knew of from travels far, far south.
While his eyes weren’t his strength, he had a mind sharper than ravenous teeth, unruly blond hair, a talent with the sword that compared to the longest of claws and a lean, muscular frame. He was silent as a stalking predator, breaking not a single twig and making not a single sound, reducing men with sharp senses to nothing but deaf and blind deer, wounded and crying and already within his jaws.
Currently, he was employing this talent of predatory soundlessness in spying on Leiknir and Tino from within the bushes.
He was frowning intensely, but that was hardly an unusual circumstance.
(If looks could kill, Leiknir would have quite possibly been feeling himself dissolve into a bubbling puddle of gore, and if looks could do other things, Tino would have quite possibly been feeling himself groped in inadequate places, but looks were just looks and the two of them were oblivious.)
Tino was, much to his dismay, smiling a little, seductive smile, and inched a bit closer to Leiknir.
Right above his head was a sharp intake of breath; he almost gasped, as well, noticing that Eirikr’s face had just surfaced above him with a quiet rustling of leaves.
“That little snake!” the boy hissed, inadvertently leaning his chin on Berwald’s head, but the latter was unsure who of them he was talking about.
“I was wondering if maybe you could…” Leiknir said, and to hear the next part they almost had to strain their ears, for it was said in a sensual whisper, “teach me”.
Even farther above his head there was suddenly another quick rustling of leaves and the weight on his head doubled, just as another, familiar and obnoxious voice exclaimed “Ha! That’s my Leiki, always so straightforward!”
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080009.jpg.html?sort=3&o=4
Above him, Eirikr took on his brother’s job and tried to punch Magnus, who swiftly dodged under protests: sadly, no one was as effective as Leiknir with him. He eventually shut up on his own as the Finn’s eyes quickly darted in the direction of their bush.
Second Attempt: Laugardagr and a Man at a Loss II
Leiknir’s eyes wandered over his naked body in a way that could have seemed lascivious if Tino hadn’t been absolutely sure that they didn’t really care, but they fixed right at his face when he said, “I wanted to talk to you”.
The Finn sat down next to the naked wizard. “Then talk” he said.
Leiknir looked over the stream he’d been bathing in again, taking the washcloth and squeezing it over his chest. The water ran down in tiny rivulets, not unlike it had on Berwald a few minutes earlier; Leiknir wasn’t all that muscular, but his skin sure looked smooth. It was quite the sight, too.
“It is known amongst us that your folk possesses… powers. I know no stories of Finns that do not contain at least one powerful sorcerer, and I know of men who bought ropes tied to knots from your people because loosening these knots is sure to give good sailing winds.”
He stopped his words to glance at him again from half-lidded eyes, and in them was perhaps the slightest sparkle: Tino thought that maybe this subject truly interested him. Then Leiknir gracefully raised a long leg out of the water, stretching and flexing it once before briefly grazing it with the washcloth, still observing him.
He was good at this, but two could play this game… and Tino had no doubt that the one losing would eventually be Leiknir.
***
Berwald was a man of silence and few words and graceful, feline strength. If one were to compare him to an animal, the closest to him would be the great lion, an almost mythological beast only some Vikings knew of from travels far, far south.
While his eyes weren’t his strength, he had a mind sharper than ravenous teeth, unruly blond hair, a talent with the sword that compared to the longest of claws and a lean, muscular frame. He was silent as a stalking predator, breaking not a single twig and making not a single sound, reducing men with sharp senses to nothing but deaf and blind deer, wounded and crying and already within his jaws.
Currently, he was employing this talent of predatory soundlessness in spying on Leiknir and Tino from within the bushes.
He was frowning intensely, but that was hardly an unusual circumstance.
(If looks could kill, Leiknir would have quite possibly been feeling himself dissolve into a bubbling puddle of gore, and if looks could do other things, Tino would have quite possibly been feeling himself groped in inadequate places, but looks were just looks and the two of them were oblivious.)
Tino was, much to his dismay, smiling a little, seductive smile, and inched a bit closer to Leiknir.
Right above his head was a sharp intake of breath; he almost gasped, as well, noticing that Eirikr’s face had just surfaced above him with a quiet rustling of leaves.
“That little snake!” the boy hissed, inadvertently leaning his chin on Berwald’s head, but the latter was unsure who of them he was talking about.
“I was wondering if maybe you could…” Leiknir said, and to hear the next part they almost had to strain their ears, for it was said in a sensual whisper, “teach me”.
Even farther above his head there was suddenly another quick rustling of leaves and the weight on his head doubled, just as another, familiar and obnoxious voice exclaimed “Ha! That’s my Leiki, always so straightforward!”
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080009.jpg.html?sort=3&o=4
Above him, Eirikr took on his brother’s job and tried to punch Magnus, who swiftly dodged under protests: sadly, no one was as effective as Leiknir with him. He eventually shut up on his own as the Finn’s eyes quickly darted in the direction of their bush.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [2/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:19 pm (UTC)(link)(Berwald thought he’d seen him roll his eyes, but figured he might have imagined it, as he said nothing.)
“Of course you could expect me to repay you” Leiknir continued whispering; then he stood up, exposing his wet, naked flesh in its entirety to them and the Finn (above him, Eirikr made some comment about killing Magnus if he felt something poking his hip) and positioned himself behind the latter, leaning down to gently rub his back.
Magnus whimpered softly, but Berwald didn’t think about whatever might have caused it and just focused on the way the Finn very obviously leaned into the contact. All sounds his obnoxious jarl may have made were silenced a few seconds later, anyway, when from within Tino’s throat came a sound so deeply obscene that Berwald was actually grateful the other two were behind him and had no way of noticing what came to say hello between his legs.
There was a moment of silence, and then, in an equally lascivious tone, “Harder”.
Eirikr moaned and Magnus huffed, but Berwald just crouched there, contemplating, trying to will his little Midgard-snake back to peaceful pants-slumber and failing greatly. Still, what upset him most wasn’t the uncoiling world serpent not even Thor himself could wrestle down, but the way the Finn let himself go so obviously.
Then, something happened.
Tino’s eyes quickly darted to the bushes and rested on Berwald’s for a second before turning away. The lust he was expressing so physically didn’t seem to have reached them.
He was at an absolute loss as of what this could mean.
***
Leiknir could hardly control his displeasure. Did the Finn have to make those sounds? Those bodily gestures? By the völva, this was too much. As if he was doing it on purpose.
But, well, at least Leiknir was obviously doing it right.
Very, very obviously. In one particularly violent moan, the Finn threw his head back and mouthed his name. Leiknir made a face that could have soured milk—only inwardly, of course—and tried to think about the advantages the Finn would bring them.
For a start, maybe he would shut Magnus up for a while.
He still had the suspicion that he had no magical powers whatsoever, which was a turn-off (not that he would have needed one, as the turning on in itself had never occurred in the first place) though, so he pressed further on his previous inquiry.
“Well? Will you be my… master?” he asked, pressing down hard on his shoulders to emphasize the word. He had the idea of submitting in such an obvious way from Magnus, who was into Leiknir acknowledging his authority so much that making him do it pretty much gave him an instantaneous boner (as he never had bothered hiding or just as much as not commenting with “Grrr, you make my Mjölnir spring into action…you know, just as Thor’s, it gets bigger if you rub it!”, to which Leiknir always responded by, indeed, ‘rubbing’ it—violently, with his boot, and just once).
…but he preferred not to think about Magnus right now, lest the Finn’s shoulders turn broader in his mind and his hair longer and his moans into his jarl’s grunts; it would make this even more humiliating to imagine Magnus in this position. Luckily, the Finn brought him back with a whisper that was very obviously not Magnus’.
“I would love to have you under me”. The tone was quite seductive. Ah, he was responding to his flirtations. He would have cringed if it wasn’t a dead give-away. Well, maybe, if he got him to reveal how to do the weather-trick, if he even knew such a thing, he could stop this nonsense before having to actually get down to the dirtier business…
Either way, Leiknir was going to kill Magnus when this was over. He was going to strangle him with the furs he wore, maybe press them down on his face to asphyxiate him—or, better, he would bare his throat and squeeze—like he squeezed the sides of the neck in front of him now—and then he would push him down—getting on his knees, like he was now—and then he would straddle him—close to his body, like he was to the one before him now—and lean in and whisper—
Wait, this wasn’t Magnus. Wait, what was he doing?
“Of course you could expect me to repay you” Leiknir continued whispering; then he stood up, exposing his wet, naked flesh in its entirety to them and the Finn (above him, Eirikr made some comment about killing Magnus if he felt something poking his hip) and positioned himself behind the latter, leaning down to gently rub his back.
Magnus whimpered softly, but Berwald didn’t think about whatever might have caused it and just focused on the way the Finn very obviously leaned into the contact. All sounds his obnoxious jarl may have made were silenced a few seconds later, anyway, when from within Tino’s throat came a sound so deeply obscene that Berwald was actually grateful the other two were behind him and had no way of noticing what came to say hello between his legs.
There was a moment of silence, and then, in an equally lascivious tone, “Harder”.
Eirikr moaned and Magnus huffed, but Berwald just crouched there, contemplating, trying to will his little Midgard-snake back to peaceful pants-slumber and failing greatly. Still, what upset him most wasn’t the uncoiling world serpent not even Thor himself could wrestle down, but the way the Finn let himself go so obviously.
Then, something happened.
Tino’s eyes quickly darted to the bushes and rested on Berwald’s for a second before turning away. The lust he was expressing so physically didn’t seem to have reached them.
He was at an absolute loss as of what this could mean.
***
Leiknir could hardly control his displeasure. Did the Finn have to make those sounds? Those bodily gestures? By the völva, this was too much. As if he was doing it on purpose.
But, well, at least Leiknir was obviously doing it right.
Very, very obviously. In one particularly violent moan, the Finn threw his head back and mouthed his name. Leiknir made a face that could have soured milk—only inwardly, of course—and tried to think about the advantages the Finn would bring them.
For a start, maybe he would shut Magnus up for a while.
He still had the suspicion that he had no magical powers whatsoever, which was a turn-off (not that he would have needed one, as the turning on in itself had never occurred in the first place) though, so he pressed further on his previous inquiry.
“Well? Will you be my… master?” he asked, pressing down hard on his shoulders to emphasize the word. He had the idea of submitting in such an obvious way from Magnus, who was into Leiknir acknowledging his authority so much that making him do it pretty much gave him an instantaneous boner (as he never had bothered hiding or just as much as not commenting with “Grrr, you make my Mjölnir spring into action…you know, just as Thor’s, it gets bigger if you rub it!”, to which Leiknir always responded by, indeed, ‘rubbing’ it—violently, with his boot, and just once).
…but he preferred not to think about Magnus right now, lest the Finn’s shoulders turn broader in his mind and his hair longer and his moans into his jarl’s grunts; it would make this even more humiliating to imagine Magnus in this position. Luckily, the Finn brought him back with a whisper that was very obviously not Magnus’.
“I would love to have you under me”. The tone was quite seductive. Ah, he was responding to his flirtations. He would have cringed if it wasn’t a dead give-away. Well, maybe, if he got him to reveal how to do the weather-trick, if he even knew such a thing, he could stop this nonsense before having to actually get down to the dirtier business…
Either way, Leiknir was going to kill Magnus when this was over. He was going to strangle him with the furs he wore, maybe press them down on his face to asphyxiate him—or, better, he would bare his throat and squeeze—like he squeezed the sides of the neck in front of him now—and then he would push him down—getting on his knees, like he was now—and then he would straddle him—close to his body, like he was to the one before him now—and lean in and whisper—
Wait, this wasn’t Magnus. Wait, what was he doing?
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [3/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:36 pm (UTC)(link) Forgot this one after Tino's ridiculous moan
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He jumped up, cursing himself. For the first time in the whole endeavour, he had the feeling that he could absolutely not put up with this any longer: it was awfully humiliating, and, really, he hated sex, and why did he have to do this stupid thing when he’d much rather be strangling his jarl naked—
Where had that ‘naked’ come from?!
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080007.jpg.html?sort=3&o=5
And then there was the Finn, who had stood up after him and now asked him, “What is it, my underling?”, clearly enjoying himself.
Leiknir had always considered himself a master of controlling his facial expressions. Really, when it came to expressing emotions, he was so blank it was completely impossible to tell what he was thinking. This came from years of training himself to think that he already seemed effeminate enough—what with practicing the Seiðr and all—and that emotions would only enhance that misconception, thus mastering a complete lack of them whatsoever. In this, however, he had neglected that, while his face was a piece of stone, his body was very able to perform acts that might betray him.
Right now, for example, he was shoving the Finn against a tree with the intention of basking his head in.
Oh no. Shit. He controlled himself before launching the offending punch, instead camouflaging it as a straightforward caress to his cheek and down his neck and chest. Ah, crisis averted…
…or not, as the Finn apparently took it as a challenge to be rough in return; with a cocky smile, he grabbed him by the shoulders and swiftly switched their positions, pressing his back against the tree in his stead and pushing a leg between his.
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Leiknir thought he heard some kind of protest from a bush nearby, but his mind couldn’t dwell on it right now, instead shaking it off as some animal in the undergrowth. The Finn leaned in to whisper “Eager, Leiknir?”, as if he knew that it would piss him off, as if he was doing this coldly and calculatingly to amuse himself.
The Finn’s face hovered close to his, a moment too long, and it seemed apparent that he would kiss him, and Leiknir tried not to avert his face.
He would definitely kill Magnus. He would hurt him first: he would even bite him. Maybe, if the Finn’s mouth came down on his, he would imagine Magnus doing the same and how it would be to bite his tongue and…
He closed his eyes and thought of his jarl.
Nothing came.
***
Tino was so, so sorry.
This was mostly self-defence: Leiknir could not expect him to let himself be so obviously pushed against a tree without retorting, after all. It was just fair that Tino teased him and cornered him.
At first it had been hilarious, because, although the man’s face did not let on a thing, his body language made it perfectly clear that the entire situation was making him uncomfortable; right now, though, something was bothering him a bit too much. Tino didn’t want to end up confusing him as much as he had Eirikr—causing him harm was far from anything he wanted. He decided to continue their dialogue.
“Ah, yes, um—magic!” he said, attempting a reassuring smile that Leiknir completely missed because of his closed eyes. “Um, well—they say that when a little man made of copper rose from the sea and the Ancient Bard Väinämöinen ordered him to cut down the immense oak that obscured the sun after he turned into a giant, the tree fell and each of its branches grants him who takes it magic powers. Maybe you should take me home so we can look for a branch of the magical oak?”
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080005.jpg.html?sort=3&o=6
He jumped up, cursing himself. For the first time in the whole endeavour, he had the feeling that he could absolutely not put up with this any longer: it was awfully humiliating, and, really, he hated sex, and why did he have to do this stupid thing when he’d much rather be strangling his jarl naked—
Where had that ‘naked’ come from?!
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080007.jpg.html?sort=3&o=5
And then there was the Finn, who had stood up after him and now asked him, “What is it, my underling?”, clearly enjoying himself.
Leiknir had always considered himself a master of controlling his facial expressions. Really, when it came to expressing emotions, he was so blank it was completely impossible to tell what he was thinking. This came from years of training himself to think that he already seemed effeminate enough—what with practicing the Seiðr and all—and that emotions would only enhance that misconception, thus mastering a complete lack of them whatsoever. In this, however, he had neglected that, while his face was a piece of stone, his body was very able to perform acts that might betray him.
Right now, for example, he was shoving the Finn against a tree with the intention of basking his head in.
Oh no. Shit. He controlled himself before launching the offending punch, instead camouflaging it as a straightforward caress to his cheek and down his neck and chest. Ah, crisis averted…
…or not, as the Finn apparently took it as a challenge to be rough in return; with a cocky smile, he grabbed him by the shoulders and swiftly switched their positions, pressing his back against the tree in his stead and pushing a leg between his.
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Leiknir thought he heard some kind of protest from a bush nearby, but his mind couldn’t dwell on it right now, instead shaking it off as some animal in the undergrowth. The Finn leaned in to whisper “Eager, Leiknir?”, as if he knew that it would piss him off, as if he was doing this coldly and calculatingly to amuse himself.
The Finn’s face hovered close to his, a moment too long, and it seemed apparent that he would kiss him, and Leiknir tried not to avert his face.
He would definitely kill Magnus. He would hurt him first: he would even bite him. Maybe, if the Finn’s mouth came down on his, he would imagine Magnus doing the same and how it would be to bite his tongue and…
He closed his eyes and thought of his jarl.
Nothing came.
***
Tino was so, so sorry.
This was mostly self-defence: Leiknir could not expect him to let himself be so obviously pushed against a tree without retorting, after all. It was just fair that Tino teased him and cornered him.
At first it had been hilarious, because, although the man’s face did not let on a thing, his body language made it perfectly clear that the entire situation was making him uncomfortable; right now, though, something was bothering him a bit too much. Tino didn’t want to end up confusing him as much as he had Eirikr—causing him harm was far from anything he wanted. He decided to continue their dialogue.
“Ah, yes, um—magic!” he said, attempting a reassuring smile that Leiknir completely missed because of his closed eyes. “Um, well—they say that when a little man made of copper rose from the sea and the Ancient Bard Väinämöinen ordered him to cut down the immense oak that obscured the sun after he turned into a giant, the tree fell and each of its branches grants him who takes it magic powers. Maybe you should take me home so we can look for a branch of the magical oak?”
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [4/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:43 pm (UTC)(link)Leiknir could have said many things then, after confusedly opening one eye to make sure there was no impending kiss. He could have said that there was no way he was going to fall for the taking him home thing, or he could have asked if that meant that he had no magical powers as of now; yet the world works in funny ways, and a man’s mind will never do as expected, and what Leiknir quite eloquently asked was no other thing than
“Uh. W-what?”
The Finn started chuckling. Okay, he would make Leiknir uncomfortable just once more, the last time—this one was just too good to pass up on.
“Oh, figures you don’t know—Väinämöinen! He was an Ancient Bard born from a super kinky threesome between the old virgin Luonnotar, who wanted to finally have sex, the Sea, and the Wind!”
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080013.jpg.html?sort=3&o=3
He could practically see the way the sexual imagery spread involuntarily in Leiknir’s brain, and used the occasion to stop their nonsense right then and there.
“So… you see that I am useless outside of my land, yes? I need to, uh, take magic from there, so it would be best if you just took me back in order to show you, okay?”
But something in Leiknir seemed to have snapped. His face was, upon inspection, blank in a different way than before—as if, somehow, he had just suffered some kind of overdose…
“Hey! Man! I just said something super important that could pretty much end this stupid plot right here—I don’t have magic! Hey, are you listening to me? ...Leiknir?”
***
Berwald wanted to say something and didn’t, but he never said anything, anyway. He turned around to see if his jarl had finally gotten that this had been a stupid idea.
Looking at Eirikr and Magnus, they both were frowning, just as he was, and looked equally concentrated. Then, Eirikr said,
“A… a small man made of copper?”
Berwald stared at him, disbelieving; hadn't he listened to anything else? He had thought the kid to have some of Leiknir’s quick wits, what was this?
“WAIT!” Magnus then blurted out, so loud the Finn immediately looked at the bushes again, prompting Berwald to try and cover them—but well, at least he seemed to have realized what their captive’s last statement involved. “A girl can only get pregnant through one hole. Does that mean they took turns, or did they both fit in her, um, axe wound? And—and were the Sea and the Wind people, or did she get it on with water and air? Because once a girl told me that if you shove water into the toothless-dwarf-mouth it hurts like—hey!”
Eirikr tried to punch him again, which was, sadly, dodged.
“Didn’t ya notice anything else?” Berwald said, slowly.
Magnus looked at him, puzzled; then he frowned, and pouted, “Yeah. The Finn pretty much assaulted Leiki and he didn’t protest! I-I mean, Leiknir is supposed to do the seducing, so why would he tolerate something like that?”
Berwald would have loved to guide his palm to his face and hit it until he was as mentally numb as the other two, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to continue watching, leaving Eirikr confusedly thinking about what copper had to do with the ocean, and Magnus grumbling and pouting by turns.
***
A whirlwind of naked, writhing bodies passed through his mind, voicing cries of ecstasy.
There were thing he could never unsee, he knew. Right now, there were just too much of those things: the Finn’s naked body, his hands on that body, that body pressing his own against a tree; and somewhere, a desire—somehow, naked wasn’t such a bad word anymore. Somehow, he had spent all his life thinking sex—ugh, sex?—was a stinking, sweaty activity, and he’d just observed it calculatingly and coldly and always from afar, and now he’d been thrown right into the water.
From within, it wasn’t that bad. Maybe he could get used to it.
Then the Finn’s body morphed into a bigger, broader one—a familiar one, a willing one—and he wished it taught him how to swim, and he didn’t think about it coldly anymore, but from within the waters.
In other less fancy and cryptic words: Leiknir ran away with an erection.
***
“Uh. W-what?”
The Finn started chuckling. Okay, he would make Leiknir uncomfortable just once more, the last time—this one was just too good to pass up on.
“Oh, figures you don’t know—Väinämöinen! He was an Ancient Bard born from a super kinky threesome between the old virgin Luonnotar, who wanted to finally have sex, the Sea, and the Wind!”
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080013.jpg.html?sort=3&o=3
He could practically see the way the sexual imagery spread involuntarily in Leiknir’s brain, and used the occasion to stop their nonsense right then and there.
“So… you see that I am useless outside of my land, yes? I need to, uh, take magic from there, so it would be best if you just took me back in order to show you, okay?”
But something in Leiknir seemed to have snapped. His face was, upon inspection, blank in a different way than before—as if, somehow, he had just suffered some kind of overdose…
“Hey! Man! I just said something super important that could pretty much end this stupid plot right here—I don’t have magic! Hey, are you listening to me? ...Leiknir?”
***
Berwald wanted to say something and didn’t, but he never said anything, anyway. He turned around to see if his jarl had finally gotten that this had been a stupid idea.
Looking at Eirikr and Magnus, they both were frowning, just as he was, and looked equally concentrated. Then, Eirikr said,
“A… a small man made of copper?”
Berwald stared at him, disbelieving; hadn't he listened to anything else? He had thought the kid to have some of Leiknir’s quick wits, what was this?
“WAIT!” Magnus then blurted out, so loud the Finn immediately looked at the bushes again, prompting Berwald to try and cover them—but well, at least he seemed to have realized what their captive’s last statement involved. “A girl can only get pregnant through one hole. Does that mean they took turns, or did they both fit in her, um, axe wound? And—and were the Sea and the Wind people, or did she get it on with water and air? Because once a girl told me that if you shove water into the toothless-dwarf-mouth it hurts like—hey!”
Eirikr tried to punch him again, which was, sadly, dodged.
“Didn’t ya notice anything else?” Berwald said, slowly.
Magnus looked at him, puzzled; then he frowned, and pouted, “Yeah. The Finn pretty much assaulted Leiki and he didn’t protest! I-I mean, Leiknir is supposed to do the seducing, so why would he tolerate something like that?”
Berwald would have loved to guide his palm to his face and hit it until he was as mentally numb as the other two, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to continue watching, leaving Eirikr confusedly thinking about what copper had to do with the ocean, and Magnus grumbling and pouting by turns.
***
A whirlwind of naked, writhing bodies passed through his mind, voicing cries of ecstasy.
There were thing he could never unsee, he knew. Right now, there were just too much of those things: the Finn’s naked body, his hands on that body, that body pressing his own against a tree; and somewhere, a desire—somehow, naked wasn’t such a bad word anymore. Somehow, he had spent all his life thinking sex—ugh, sex?—was a stinking, sweaty activity, and he’d just observed it calculatingly and coldly and always from afar, and now he’d been thrown right into the water.
From within, it wasn’t that bad. Maybe he could get used to it.
Then the Finn’s body morphed into a bigger, broader one—a familiar one, a willing one—and he wished it taught him how to swim, and he didn’t think about it coldly anymore, but from within the waters.
In other less fancy and cryptic words: Leiknir ran away with an erection.
***
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [5/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)Later, when Eirikr went after the Seiðmaðr and Magnus told him to watch the Finn while he had some things to think about, Berwald stepped out of the bushes and appeared next to the shocked Tino.
“Bu… but what… I…” he stammered.
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Berwald hesitantly touched his shoulder.
Tino blinked at him.
“Oh, hi. I’m afraid I don’t quite get your, um, culture.”
Berwald thought long and hard about how to put in words that he knew—that he was well aware that the Finn knew of Magnus’ plans (but of course he knew, he was so intelligent, and perceptive, and smart!), that he had just been playing with Leiknir and Eirikr as well (that’s why he’d been laughing—oh, how adorable he was, how playful!) and that he’d just told them through hints (he ran out of flattering terms related to his thoughts, so he trailed off to and he’s very, very hot). He thought, and thought, and, unsurprisingly, what finally managed to come out of his mouth was a non-committal sounding “Hm.”
They looked at nothing in particular in silence, until Tino said, “Say, Berwald—can I finish bathing?”
Berwald happily tagged along, not even trying not to look at the Finn’s naked butt.
***
Back to their tents, Leiknir put his clothes on, but he still felt naked—and he liked it. He even contemplated masturbating, something he had pretty much never thought about before. Oh, wow. He felt great.
His brother came to him and asked him what was up, and he barely suppressed a supremely cheesy “my dick is up, that’s what”. Ah, that was something Magnus would say.
Oooh, Magnus. Leiknir bit his lip. Where was he? His eyes could use some of that rippled chest and strong legs—what was this sudden urge to howl? It didn’t matter; when he saw the man, he was going to eat that meat—he was going to be the Freyja to his Óðr (or viceversa, and gods did that thought set his loins on fire), and he was going to care very little about being argr or whatever and—
“Brother? Are you well? N-not that I was spying or anything, I just, um, casually saw that you ran away from Titi—I mean, the Finn, and, uh, what is it?”
“Where’s Magnus?” Leiknir coughed. His cheeks were turning red, and he licked his lips. “I need to speak to him”, he added, however not continuing the sentence aloud with about having him bang me against a tree like Ragnarök is tomorrow.
“Um. I don’t know. Shall I go looking for him? Do you want to rest? I… I know you didn’t want to do this, Leiknir, it was hard for me, too—“
“Yes. Yes, look for him. And bring him here” so I can seduce him like Loki seduced Svaðilfari. Well, maybe with less bestialism, but to fuck all the same. Again, he did not finish the sentence.
Eirikr nodded and, after putting on his clothes again, ran off.
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***
Magnus sat in the water and brooded. In a puddle nearby, Berwald and the Finn splashed each other like three-year-olds, but he felt no desire to join them at all. He was gloomily contemplating his reflection in the water, for once feeling not all that good. He didn’t even want to be naked, which was quite the rare occurrence, but he didn’t want to go back to the camp and bother Leiknir.
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“Bu… but what… I…” he stammered.
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Berwald hesitantly touched his shoulder.
Tino blinked at him.
“Oh, hi. I’m afraid I don’t quite get your, um, culture.”
Berwald thought long and hard about how to put in words that he knew—that he was well aware that the Finn knew of Magnus’ plans (but of course he knew, he was so intelligent, and perceptive, and smart!), that he had just been playing with Leiknir and Eirikr as well (that’s why he’d been laughing—oh, how adorable he was, how playful!) and that he’d just told them through hints (he ran out of flattering terms related to his thoughts, so he trailed off to and he’s very, very hot). He thought, and thought, and, unsurprisingly, what finally managed to come out of his mouth was a non-committal sounding “Hm.”
They looked at nothing in particular in silence, until Tino said, “Say, Berwald—can I finish bathing?”
Berwald happily tagged along, not even trying not to look at the Finn’s naked butt.
***
Back to their tents, Leiknir put his clothes on, but he still felt naked—and he liked it. He even contemplated masturbating, something he had pretty much never thought about before. Oh, wow. He felt great.
His brother came to him and asked him what was up, and he barely suppressed a supremely cheesy “my dick is up, that’s what”. Ah, that was something Magnus would say.
Oooh, Magnus. Leiknir bit his lip. Where was he? His eyes could use some of that rippled chest and strong legs—what was this sudden urge to howl? It didn’t matter; when he saw the man, he was going to eat that meat—he was going to be the Freyja to his Óðr (or viceversa, and gods did that thought set his loins on fire), and he was going to care very little about being argr or whatever and—
“Brother? Are you well? N-not that I was spying or anything, I just, um, casually saw that you ran away from Titi—I mean, the Finn, and, uh, what is it?”
“Where’s Magnus?” Leiknir coughed. His cheeks were turning red, and he licked his lips. “I need to speak to him”, he added, however not continuing the sentence aloud with about having him bang me against a tree like Ragnarök is tomorrow.
“Um. I don’t know. Shall I go looking for him? Do you want to rest? I… I know you didn’t want to do this, Leiknir, it was hard for me, too—“
“Yes. Yes, look for him. And bring him here” so I can seduce him like Loki seduced Svaðilfari. Well, maybe with less bestialism, but to fuck all the same. Again, he did not finish the sentence.
Eirikr nodded and, after putting on his clothes again, ran off.
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***
Magnus sat in the water and brooded. In a puddle nearby, Berwald and the Finn splashed each other like three-year-olds, but he felt no desire to join them at all. He was gloomily contemplating his reflection in the water, for once feeling not all that good. He didn’t even want to be naked, which was quite the rare occurrence, but he didn’t want to go back to the camp and bother Leiknir.
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Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [6/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 04:33 pm (UTC)(link)A hint of shame crossed his brow. He had forced Leiknir to do this, to unman and shame himself . He could not face him now—he wouldn’t until this entire affair was settled.
And it appeared as though he would have to settle it himself. He needed those powers—they would give him and his family (as he thought of them) the necessary strength to prove themselves in front of all other tribes; that would allow Berwald to gather a squad and gain territory, and it would allow Eirikr to prove himself a grown man, and it would allow Leiknir to practice Seiðr without being wrongly judged, as were their wishes.
He thought briefly about what he would do. Well, seduce the Finn, of course, that was the most sensible and logical approach—but how? They had shown him a beautiful girl and he hadn’t reacted, which meant that he didn’t like women, so hiring one was out of the question. And Leiknir was the hottest guy he could think of to seduce someoneand his efforts had been fruitless, as well.
He briefly considered if there was a physical possibility not to be attracted to anyone, but quickly dismissed that as nonsense. No sex? How would that even work?!
The only thing that occurred to him was that maybe Leiknir hadn’t been the… right kind of male. He was roughly the same size as the Finn—hardly a thumb taller—with fair, smooth skin and long, silky hair, thin-limbed and handsome in a somewhat delicate-looking way. Magnus liked all kinds of hot guys, but maybe the Finn, who looked rather small and frail himself, preferred them bigger and wider.
Stroking his braided beard, he tried to come up with a solution to the problem. After a while, he realized that the only way to finally seduce his little secret weapon would be to send…
Himself. Obviously. If you wanted something well done, then you had to take matters into your own hand—the same applied to slaughter, haircuts, and handjobs, after all!
Magnus, somewhat more motivated, rose from the waters with a fierce grin.
End of Chapter 2 (friggin’ finally)
Notes:
The Finns totally took advantage of the magical-powers-thing: they sold magic items to foreigners. Also, the Finnish creation myth is crazy as hell: as Fin said, there was this virgin who didn't want to be a virgin anymore so she got down and dirty with the wind and the ocean, both at the same time (yes, this is specified in the Kalevala) and became pregnant with Väinämöinen (familiar? Himaruya probably took the name from there :D), who then proceeded to stay in her vagi--I mean, uhm, womb for SEVEN HUNDRED YEARS because there still was no earth to be born on until a duck put 7 eggs on his mom's knee, which then fell off creating stuff. So when Väinämöinen popped out, he was a 700 year old wise man with a beard. I swear I'm not making this up.
Now for the viking genitalia jokes! (I have been waiting to say this sentence all my life). The midgard- or wolrd-snake was a giant snake that could envelop the world itself. (Yeah, that was a lazy one. Don't judge me.)
Mjölnir is Thor's hammer... which got bigger if he took it in his hand, and he could enhance its powers by rubbing it.
"Axe wound" is a common slang term for the coochie--uh, pardon, the vagina. "Toothless-dwarf-mouth" is supposed to mean the same--i. e.,fish taco (STOP ME)--because dwarves have beards, and classy ladies have pubic 'fros.
Freyja & Óðr: Freyja was the goddess of a bunch of stuff, including sex. Óðr was her bedmate.
Ragnarök: apocalypse.
Loki & Svaðilfari: (Don’t picture Tom Hiddleston during this. Just. Just don't.) Loki turned into a giant mare to, um, distract an architect’s stallion so he couldn't build. Spoiler: sex. And Loki bore an 8-legged horse. Which Thor, in an act of massive douchebaggery, claimed for himself (because it's totally okay to use your buddy's son as a mount, right?)
Yeah, I think that's it. Sorry for all that DenNor--I don't know where the heck that came from. I'm somehow totally in the mood for it. I hope you’re still reading!
And it appeared as though he would have to settle it himself. He needed those powers—they would give him and his family (as he thought of them) the necessary strength to prove themselves in front of all other tribes; that would allow Berwald to gather a squad and gain territory, and it would allow Eirikr to prove himself a grown man, and it would allow Leiknir to practice Seiðr without being wrongly judged, as were their wishes.
He thought briefly about what he would do. Well, seduce the Finn, of course, that was the most sensible and logical approach—but how? They had shown him a beautiful girl and he hadn’t reacted, which meant that he didn’t like women, so hiring one was out of the question. And Leiknir was the hottest guy he could think of to seduce someoneand his efforts had been fruitless, as well.
He briefly considered if there was a physical possibility not to be attracted to anyone, but quickly dismissed that as nonsense. No sex? How would that even work?!
The only thing that occurred to him was that maybe Leiknir hadn’t been the… right kind of male. He was roughly the same size as the Finn—hardly a thumb taller—with fair, smooth skin and long, silky hair, thin-limbed and handsome in a somewhat delicate-looking way. Magnus liked all kinds of hot guys, but maybe the Finn, who looked rather small and frail himself, preferred them bigger and wider.
Stroking his braided beard, he tried to come up with a solution to the problem. After a while, he realized that the only way to finally seduce his little secret weapon would be to send…
Himself. Obviously. If you wanted something well done, then you had to take matters into your own hand—the same applied to slaughter, haircuts, and handjobs, after all!
Magnus, somewhat more motivated, rose from the waters with a fierce grin.
End of Chapter 2 (friggin’ finally)
Notes:
The Finns totally took advantage of the magical-powers-thing: they sold magic items to foreigners. Also, the Finnish creation myth is crazy as hell: as Fin said, there was this virgin who didn't want to be a virgin anymore so she got down and dirty with the wind and the ocean, both at the same time (yes, this is specified in the Kalevala) and became pregnant with Väinämöinen (familiar? Himaruya probably took the name from there :D), who then proceeded to stay in her vagi--I mean, uhm, womb for SEVEN HUNDRED YEARS because there still was no earth to be born on until a duck put 7 eggs on his mom's knee, which then fell off creating stuff. So when Väinämöinen popped out, he was a 700 year old wise man with a beard. I swear I'm not making this up.
Now for the viking genitalia jokes! (I have been waiting to say this sentence all my life). The midgard- or wolrd-snake was a giant snake that could envelop the world itself. (Yeah, that was a lazy one. Don't judge me.)
Mjölnir is Thor's hammer... which got bigger if he took it in his hand, and he could enhance its powers by rubbing it.
"Axe wound" is a common slang term for the coochie--uh, pardon, the vagina. "Toothless-dwarf-mouth" is supposed to mean the same--i. e.,fish taco (STOP ME)--because dwarves have beards, and classy ladies have pubic 'fros.
Freyja & Óðr: Freyja was the goddess of a bunch of stuff, including sex. Óðr was her bedmate.
Ragnarök: apocalypse.
Loki & Svaðilfari: (Don’t picture Tom Hiddleston during this. Just. Just don't.) Loki turned into a giant mare to, um, distract an architect’s stallion so he couldn't build. Spoiler: sex. And Loki bore an 8-legged horse. Which Thor, in an act of massive douchebaggery, claimed for himself (because it's totally okay to use your buddy's son as a mount, right?)
Yeah, I think that's it. Sorry for all that DenNor--I don't know where the heck that came from. I'm somehow totally in the mood for it. I hope you’re still reading!
Whenever one of England's former charges feels overwhelmed by workload or guilty for not meeting yet another deadline, they visit their former caretaker. England positions them gently over his knees and delivers a nice, hard spanking, followed by accordingly fluffy and soothing aftercare.
I'm looking mostly for parental punishment and family bonding sort of fic, but if you feel like adding smut, I won't oppose.
Bonus: Different spanking tools for each country
Bonus 2: Flashbacks of the colonies' childhood with England
Bonus 3: Friendly and relaxed talk over tea and cake afterwards
I'm looking mostly for parental punishment and family bonding sort of fic, but if you feel like adding smut, I won't oppose.
Bonus: Different spanking tools for each country
Bonus 2: Flashbacks of the colonies' childhood with England
Bonus 3: Friendly and relaxed talk over tea and cake afterwards
An AU revolving around a dancing contest similar to Dancing with the Stars. Any characters are fine, but I'd love it if the dance partners were unusual combinations. If there's romance, it can be anything and it doesn't matter whether it's between a pair or between members of competing pairs. Genderbending is okay.
Spain decides to teach Romano some patience, so he gets him on the mood and once in the bedroom he undresses his henchman, but instead of having sex with him Spain ties Romano to a bed or a chair and proceeds to watch him intently. With attention and ~passion~ and desire in his eyes, which Romano notices (emphasis on this would be nice). He's really turned on by this.
And Spain won't even touch him. He even teases him either telling him how his cock is so hard and leaking already when he hasn't even touched him, or even placing a fingertip or a hand somewhere for a few seconds, but that's all.
Of course, Romano curses him all the way through and just when he's less expecting it Spain comes and fucks him silly.
This could be just for a night or go on for several.
And Spain won't even touch him. He even teases him either telling him how his cock is so hard and leaking already when he hasn't even touched him, or even placing a fingertip or a hand somewhere for a few seconds, but that's all.
Of course, Romano curses him all the way through and just when he's less expecting it Spain comes and fucks him silly.
This could be just for a night or go on for several.
AU with two siblings, where one dies young and ends up a ghost whom only their living sibling can see. They grow up used to this...
The come puberty. And suddenly the living sibling is looking at other people and their attention isn't on the dead sibling anymore.
The dead sibling gets... possessive. They starts driving off all the potential dates so that they can keep their sibling as theirs alone.
I'm not picky on which set of siblings you use, or what pairing(s) you use (if any), but no romance between the siblings. I'm fondest of America & Canada, but since I've also seen this trope with them to most, I wouldn't mind seeing a different sibling set for once.
Bonus: The living sibling to not be aware of what's happening at first, or believing their sibling when they say they're keeping the other 'safe' from bad types.
The come puberty. And suddenly the living sibling is looking at other people and their attention isn't on the dead sibling anymore.
The dead sibling gets... possessive. They starts driving off all the potential dates so that they can keep their sibling as theirs alone.
I'm not picky on which set of siblings you use, or what pairing(s) you use (if any), but no romance between the siblings. I'm fondest of America & Canada, but since I've also seen this trope with them to most, I wouldn't mind seeing a different sibling set for once.
Bonus: The living sibling to not be aware of what's happening at first, or believing their sibling when they say they're keeping the other 'safe' from bad types.
Italy tries to skip training by pretending he's sick. Germany decides to give him a check-up. At first he only intends to prove that Italy isn't sick, but then they both get really into it.
So, anon recently watched the episode where France and England are fighting over baby America. While they were fighting in Austria's house, I noticed that Prussia is looking really unamused. What I want to see, is where Gilbert gets to him before those two, and America becomes Prussia's colony, and Gilbert becomes Alfred's big brother.
Bonus one: How Gilbert raises America. Fluffy, adorable moments would be completly awesome!
Bonus two: England and/or France isn't ready to give up
Bonus three: How Germany fits into this.
Bonus one: How Gilbert raises America. Fluffy, adorable moments would be completly awesome!
Bonus two: England and/or France isn't ready to give up
Bonus three: How Germany fits into this.
Exactly what it sounds like. I don't care who's taking what position as long as there's a frying pangle DP happening.
Bonus: bondage
Bonus: bondage
England gets really turned on from America's hero voice. During a world meeting, it gets worse and worse, until he has to take care of it. America catches him and decides to 'help.'
Bonus one: They aren't in an established relationship
Bonus two: Seme!Arthur (If you can squeeze this in somehow. There's not enough of it)
Bonus one: They aren't in an established relationship
Bonus two: Seme!Arthur (If you can squeeze this in somehow. There's not enough of it)
So, Japan is an archeologist who is working on decoding an ancient language. However, some rouge agency/military dictatorship/whatever want the translation for themselves, though why is up to anon. So, they kidnap Japan. While he's being held captive, nation B isgayrding him, and they fall in love, leading to both of their escapes.
BONUS: Nation B is Turkey, Netherlands, or Prussia
BONUS: Nation B is Turkey, Netherlands, or Prussia
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