"Sweden."
Norway's gaze is still and calm on the TV in front of them. Sweden doesn't move either, he just stays at the couch next to Norway.
"Mm?"
"We should try something new." He shifts slightly, leaning further back against the cushions.
"What did'ya have in mind?" Sweden looks over at his fellow Nordic.
"I want to tie you up." Sweden's eyes go wide.
"'Scuse me?"
"I want to tie you up," Norway simply repeats. "During sex."
"Did you talk to Ice again?"
"Yes."
"Denmark does that to him?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Norway says. Sweden exhales heavily in relief. "It's the other way around, of course." And tenses up again.
Iceland tying Denmark to a bed and fucking his brains out is not an image Sweden wants in his head, so he quickly changes the subject, back to the less uncomfortable of the two subjects they were discussing, Norway tying Sweden up. "You were saying?"
"I want to tie you up."
It might be fun, Sweden thinks (and maybe it will chase the thoughts of Denmark's sex life out of his head) and that's why he, three hours later, is on his back, hands tied above his head.
The fastenings are secured around his wrists, the soft leather cuffs straining against his skin, keeping his arms still. He shifts and throws a look at his companion who stands in the corner of the room, dressed in nothing but an old tunic from ages far gone, dull eyes blazing in the dim light of one single candle on the bedside table and a soft, seductive smile on his thin lips. Sweden shifts again, finding Norway's knots to be quite well fastened and the leather unbudging. He is in nothing but his underwear but he could just as well be without it considering how naked he feels under the Norwegian's intense gaze.
Slowly, slowly, as if through a dream, Norway walks towards him. He looks almost feline, slender and lithe, a graceful, timeless beauty. He reaches the bed and sits down next to Sweden. Their eyes meet and both are determined not to be the first one to talk. Sweden tilts his head back and looks at Norway long and hard, a trick he's learned from years of scaring the pants off the poor nations he's conquered. Norway rolls his eyes. He's not scared of Sweden, and he never really was. He places his finger against Sweden's throat, pressing softly against his Adam's apple. It bobs as Sweden swallows and his breathing picks up. The corner of Norway's mouth twitches in an almost-smile.
The smaller nation shifts to kneel on the bed, the long sleeves of his tunic falling past his hands and caressing Sweden's skin as he moves his arms over his torso. Sweden shudders. They tickle, the soft touches against his skin. He doesn't allow any sound to slip from his mouth though. Norway's finger slides, the pressure soft but firm, down, down, down, pressing against his sternum, down his chest and stomach, over his belly button, until he reaches the trail of light hair above the band of his blue boxers. Sweden shivers, the anticipation shaking his body in its holds, as Norway blatantly ignores the growing need in his southern regions.
Norway runs his finger all the way up again, until two fingers rest against Sweden's pulse point. The slow beating of a strong heart is felt beneath the tender skin and it's growing faster and more restless by the second. Norway leans down, his other hand resting against the mattress for support, and kisses Sweden's lips, working the lower one between both his own, teeth coming down to squeeze softly. Sweden stretches up, craning his neck to bring them closer together. He wants to deepen the kiss, he wants to feel Norway's tongue against his own.
But Norway is brief, fleeting against his lips, heated breathes mingling and spreading warmth over their faces. He pulls away only millimeters, lips still close, and lets his mouth stray over Sweden's cheek, lips sometimes brushing. He presses a kiss to Sweden's temple and breaths in his ear, the heavy heat lingering before he sticks his tongue out, tracing the lobe. Sweden sucks in a breath and Norway continues down, tongue sticking out, wetting the skin of his neck.
A moan is almost released to the room as a firm, sucking kiss is placed on Sweden's neck, but the tall man catches his breath just in time to stifle the sound. Norway is not satisfied and shifts again, this time straddling the Swede.
It's at this time Sweden notices out that Norway is wearing nothing but his old tunic. Since the Norwegian re-entered the room all he has focused on is that stern, handsome face with the delicate features and the snow-white skin, smooth as porcelain at its places while other patches are marred with old scars, many caused by Sweden's own hand. Now his focus shifts to those long legs that take their place at his sides as they peek out under the tunic. Sweden raises his gaze. It's a red tunic with a wide neck that shows off Norway's neck and collarbones. It was most likely Denmark's a long time ago, as it hangs just a tad bit to big over Norway's shoulders and down his thighs.
A flare of jealousy sparks in Sweden at the thought of Denmark, and Norway wearing his clothes still, after all these years. He loses this focus quick though and revels in the feeling of the soft inside of Norway's thighs against his sides and the pressure of his half-hard penis against his stomach as the smaller nation leans down to press yet another kiss to the base of his neck. He arches his back, pressing up against Norway, exposing his neck, wanting more by the second. The leather cuffs creak with Sweden's strains, but they won't break, not tonight at least. Norway kisses down Sweden's body, the muscles of the built chest trembling. He gives a nipple a light lick, barely touching, but still bringing that first sweet moan from Sweden's lips.
Sweden wants to tangle his hands in Norway's blonde locks, he wants to trace lines and unplanned patterns on pale skin and he wants to press him closer in an embrace that's loving enough for Norway to never think of anyone but Sweden ever again.
He can do none of these things as Norway's lips and teeth abuse the Swede's nipple until it's darkened and over-simulated. Sweden is soon panting and Norway takes up on his journey again, kissing down his stomach, the muscles hardening and trembling as they rise and fall with the Swede's laboured breathing.
A hard lick through Sweden's underwear at his rock-hard and clothed cock. A teasing suck follows it. Sweden moans. Norway's lip twitches in amusement.
"Norway!" Sweden gasps suddenly, out of breath and panting. Norway looks up, eyes trailing over the toned body to at last peek through pale eyelashes at Sweden's face. A pink tongue darts out again and, all while keeping his eyes glued to Sweden's, Norway laps at the clothed erection again. Sweden groans, his head is thrown back and his hands struggling against their restraints, the smooth leather digging into soft, pale skin.
Norway lets his tongue run up Sweden's torso again, firmly caressing the taut muscles and teasing over a sensitive nipple. Gasping and groaning, Sweden squirms, desperately trying to get Norway to touch him, to squeeze and to stroke. Then, Norway's face is next to Sweden's, lips brushing against his earlobe as he utters that one word, the first of his during this event; "Beg."
Sweden bucks his hips, connecting them with Norway's, and groans. Norway just looks at him, amused and a bit more excited when he's reminded by the strength Sweden's hips hold, how hard the man can fuck if he wants to.
But still he pulls away and turns around on the bed, letting his back face Sweden, too far away for the Swede to even be able to touch him, but close enough to see everything as Norway stretches for the lube, pours it onto his fingers and slowly, teasingly begins to trace his hole with slender fingers. He dips a finger in and gasps at the feeling, turning his head around to look Sweden in the eyes. The desire and arousal lingers in Norway's eyes and he sends it all to his lover with heated gazes and soundless gasps.
Sweden shifts, he wants to touch, to feel, to just take what's his, "Nor... Stop it."
Norway smiles. It's rare and it's wicked and it's the most arousing thing Sweden has ever seen; "Beg."
Sweden groans and strains even more as Norway moves over, straddling Sweden again. His now slick and loosened entrance hovers over Sweden's clothed erection and Sweden bucks his hips, knowing it's useless, but does it anyway because he needs it, he needs it so bad it hurts.
Norway's hands slip over Sweden's torso, down to the band of his boxers and he palms Sweden's cock and pulls it free from his underwear. He tugs and strokes it and almost places it right to sink down on it but stops himself and drags the tip of the Swede's cock along the cleft of his ass instead. He's denying Sweden the warmth, the tightness, the completeness of them coming together and Sweden groans and bucks. "Beg," Norway says, stern and cold as always but Sweden gets it because Norway is after all warm and teasing beneath, and he wants to have all control over this situation today.
Still, it stings when those words leave his mouth, falling, tumbling out, all on their own, "Please Norway!" Norway's reaction doesn't wait and he presses down, letting the heated flesh of Sweden's cock sink into his tight warmth. Sweden moans, he's louder than usual because the tension releases and all he feels is Norway's heat, concentrated to one single place, intense and delicious.
Straining against his restraints, Sweden buck and squirm to meet Norway as he grinds down on Sweden's cock. Norway hushes and presses a kiss to Sweden's forehead as he pushes down, clenching and squeezing around his lover. The friction and the heat is driving Sweden crazy still, and he roars at Norway; "Untie me. Want to touch you."
Norway just grins and stretches up over Sweden's torso until he reaches the leather cuffs and slowly, slowly, he undoes the knots keeping Sweden's hands there. Sweden's reactions are quick, and he sits up and grabs Norway's middle to run his hands up and down his sides heatedly. Norway sighs as Sweden grabs his hips and helps him to bounce up and down on that cock, getting the angle just right.
Norway is still in charge though, and he grinds down hard while his hands tangle in Sweden's hair, pulling him close. Sweden groans and captures Norway's lips in a bruising kiss, all lips and tongues and it's wet, almost too wet, neither able to focus as the burning pleasure in their lower regions is growing stronger, more intense, more unbearable but also more fulfilling by the second.
Norway breaks the kiss and bites his lip, forcing his sounds to stay inside as he pushes Sweden down onto his back again, riding him, controlling him. Sweden's hands are still on Norway's hips, just being there, heavy and hot and following his movements.
As Sweden's left hand releases Norway's hip, to stroke his cock instead, Norway gives a lone, breathy moan and comes, his release spilling on Sweden's hand and stomach. He tenses up, muscles tightening around Sweden's need and the larger nation comes as well, pushing deeply into Norway.
Their quick, gasping breathing is all that's heard in the room, and it slows gradually as they descend from their high, their minds leaving the clouds, coming back to the reality inside that small bedroom.
Sweden presses a kiss to Norway's forehead, "That was..," he trails off.
"Mm," Norway hums and buries his head in the crook of Sweden's neck. "Told you."
"Like touching you though."
"I know."
Sweden runs a hand over Norway's back as he kisses his head again tenderly.
The "I love you" goes unsaid, as usual.
A/N: Writing some SuNor for the kink meme, just to piss people off. XD No, but seriously, I love this pairing and I do not understand how it's not more popular. D':
Sidenote; why does everything I write turn into such a sap-fest? Even bondage. wtf dude.
Also, have some (not-so-subtly) implied DenIce (I don't even ship it, wtf).
Review? :D