Author's note: Tumblr request (violeta-violeta): « oooh, smutty ficlet friday, eh! well you said rare pairs, so could i request australia and norway, maybe getting it on in the back seat of a car? hehe. thanks! »
Conclusions drawn from this prompt: we've no idea if there are other fics for this ship so I'm calling it NorAussie until informed otherwise; I can ship any Nordic/any Kirkland because Reasons; Australia likes to steal New Zealand's things; America and Canada know better than to sit in the back seat of Australia's car; Norway is secretly my favorite nation to write and not-so-secretly, in my headcanon, the most beautiful nation. Everyone wants that.
Conclusions drawn from this fic: Australia is a lucky bastard.
Also for those who didn't now, I have occasionally over at my writing Tumblr what I like to call Smutty Ficlet Friday. They're like regular request posts except only on Fridays, normally Nordic, and always smutty. Also for December I was taking requests from long-time readers for ficlets for the holiday season; look for more next year if you didn't request this year.
How the stars shine in the southern sky
Jett wasn't sure when his lucky day became today but the stars must have all been in alignment as he jostled back to the main house after surveying his land. Everything was in order, the sun was high but not too bright, he had yet to get a sunburn today, and multiple nations were flying down to escape their cold winters and spend time with him. All he had to do now was ditch the dirty, old pick-up truck, shower, and go get the first nation coming: Lukas, the quiet, stern Norwegian that Jett had never quite been able to figure out.
Well, there had been Tampa. That had taught him a few things about the man like what sort of an English vocabulary he had, how strong he really was, and how quickly a former Viking goes back to his roots when angered.
The Australian really hopes that over a decade later things won't be awkward; he'd even stocked up on coffee as a peace offering.
"Just till tomorrow mate," Jett reminds himself. Tomorrow Alfie and Mattie would be getting here, bright and early, and they knew the Norwegian much better than he did. All he'd have to do was entertain Lukas till then.
The man looks overly proper as he exits airport security, briefcase and suitcase in hand, jacket over his shoulder. The suspenders of his pants lay flat across his muscular chest, his tie not nearly as tight as Jett knows he normally wears it but still just as properly knotted. Lukas comes to stand before him with a blank expression, blinking once before nodding his head. With that they set off.
In the car from the Sydney airport out to the farm, little is said. Every once and a while Jett casts an awkward glance at this man he barely knows, has only heard stories of; for the first hour Lukas stares straight ahead but after that he softens, resting his head against the window and gazing longingly out it.
"Nothing like what you've got in Norway down here, I bet."
"No," the man agrees, "not really like Norway at all."
Jett tries to keep his eyes on the road and his mind off thoughts of how handsome Lukas looked like that, visibly relaxing like he so rarely did with others. But he had to have another side to him; the Nordics were a close-knit group that surely he let loose with. The Australian was determined to not mess this up and use tonight to discover that hidden side to the Norwegian nation that few ever saw and lived to tell the tale of.
Lukas emerges from the guest room with still-damp hair, changed after his shower into neat slacks and a different button-down, simple black belt around his thin frame and top few buttons of his shirt undone.
"What do you do for fun around here?" the man asks in a bored tone, standing behind one of Jett's couches. The Australian lounges on another one, having been flipping through a magazine Georgie had sent him.
Jett shrugs. "Normally I steal Ethan's things in the night, to be perfectly honest." The Norwegian raises a slender eyebrow at that, his mouth forming an o. "You know how families can be, I'm sure."
"Oh yes," the man agrees, his accent clean on the English words, "I know."
The conversation seems to die at that though Lukas makes no sign to show he feels awkward about it; Jett feels completely put on the spot though, searching his mind for something to say. Then he comes on something.
"Hey!"
"Yes?" Lukas asks calmly.
"Want to see what the stars look like in the southern hemisphere?"
If Jett didn't know better, he'd swear he saw the corner of the Norwegian lips twitch as if the man wanted to smile.
Pick-up truck not quite seeming to be up to Lukas's standards, Jett gets out his car again that he'd picked the man up in. They drive out carefully into his land, the trees parting, the terrain leveling out. The Austrian maneuvers them to a good spot where he'd sometimes come with Georgie and Ella, laying in the back of his truck and watching the stars go by.
And as the two men sit in the parked car, windows down, silence all around them, Jett remembers just how much he loves the stars. He loves the way they gently move across the sky like nations incarnate through history: no rush, nowhere to go, and yet everything to see. They burn bright and they inspire and Jett hopes he does that too, not just for his people but for all the world. He wasn't Alfred, wasn't Arthur, but people liked him and people liked Australia and that had to count for something he thinks.
How long they sit there, he's not sure; Jett almost forgets there's someone else in the car with him save the gentle breathing of his companion. It helps the younger man relax, feeling like maybe he was making some progress in his relations with his Norwegian counterpart.
A hand deftly takes his laying on the seat, fingers lacing together.
Jett turns his head quickly but Lukas is still watching the stars, a small smile on his lips. "Beautiful," the man breathes before turning his head surely and those deep blue eyes are mesmerizing, like the deep blue of the night sky. They hold the younger man prisoner and all the discomfort he's felt today disappears as he looses himself in the endlessness of a view he hadn't realized he'd wanted this badly.
Without realizing it Jett's leaning in and Lukas meets him half way, lips that are soft pressing against his. The sides of their noses brush as they move, Lukas shifting first to better face his companion. It reminds Jett of the relaxed man he'd seen on the ride out from the airport, handsome and real and not at all the standoffish fellow everyone took Lukas to be. This wasn't the man in a suit and tie; this was the man with still-damp hair and a half-buttoned shirt.
Hands slide over the sides of his neck, the Norwegian deepening the kiss as he pulls him closer. Jett thinks that really this isn't at all bad; if anything, it just made his day that much better. Lukas was an incredibly beautiful man, with agreement more or less being that he was the handsomest nation from what Jett had heard through his cousins' whispers of the Europeans. As the Australian lets his hands feel the man he remembers what a great body Lukas has, having last seen it at the Summer Olympics when the nations all went for a swim in the pool. The light blond hair is soft where it brushes against his skin as Jett runs his hands up the exposed skin of Lukas's chest to the back of his head, pulling him even closer.
The kiss breaks, both men breathing heavily, as lips move to Jett's ear to whisper, "Back seat?" and all the Australian can do is nod.
Lukas pulls back like one of the giant cats Jett's seen at the zoo, all grace and pride and slinking body as he opens his door, stepping out into the cooling night to move to the back. Jett, much less calmly, scrambles out of the driver's seat to get to the back row where he has admittedly gotten up to his fair share of shenanigans and sex before.
As if they hadn't broken the kiss Lukas takes control, pulling Jett to him to demand his mouth. Tongues twirl in the hot cavity, hands running up and down chests as fingers free the buttons of their shirts. The Norwegian is a lot softer in his moves compared to Jett who bucks sporadically and excitedly, legs tangling together as he finds himself sitting on Lukas's lap. The man's belt is pulled from his pants, shirts are pushed off shoulders, and undershirts are shoved up as lips fall to Jett's torso. His tan skin is treated to kisses and bites and licks that have him bucking his hips against Lukas, their erections rubbing together through their pants.
Jett was rarely one for long-term serious relationships. He much preferred to have fuck buddies (as Alfred had taken to calling them), casual relationships, one-night stands, that sort of thing. Jett didn't want to force his relationships; he let men and women come and go knowing that that was how his life was meant to be and it was better that way.
And while he hadn't exactly been planning on fucking around with his Norwegian guest, Jett can't say where tonight was going was in any way a disappointment.
There's a gentle push to his chest and tug on his hips and so Jett moves with Lukas, laying on the back seat to let the Norwegian settle between his legs. Those deep blue eyes find his again, holding them there as if the man was silently saying a thousand different things. And Jett's not sure he speaks that language, understands those words, but he hope he does as Lukas's mouth finds his again.
They hump, growing more frantic as the car rocks gently, until finally the Norwegian asks for something that sounds like condom but comes out in not-quite-English. Jett tries to nod and sit up but Lukas pins him down, sitting and demanding, "Where?"
"Glove compartment, behind the maps." Jett misses Lukas's warmth when the man moves to lean over the front seat, filing through the papers until he finds two condoms. "Lube too," the Australian adds, remembering he had stashed some away for nights where he found men to help him pass the hours. The Norwegian raises his slender eyebrow again at that, smiling smugly and inspecting the lubricant before handing all three items to Jett.
Deft hands make work of Jett's shoes and socks, pulling them off before yanking down less patiently the Australian's pants and briefs. Naked, erection standing proudly, Jett is quite happy with the sight he makes until he's distracted by Lukas pushing his own pants and boxer-briefs down just far enough to free himself comfortably.
"Damn," Jett breathes, having not expected Lukas to be so, well, long.
"Damn's right," the man says proudly before pressing down to kiss Jett. What follows to him seems to be a blur but at some point the older man takes one of the condoms from his hand, presumably putting it on himself; Jett normally liked to top but when the partner was strong and handsome and skilled like Lukas was, he didn't care either way.
The lube is pulled carefully from his hand next, Lukas breathing in his ear, "Turn over." It's a bit tight in the back, the leather of the seat moist and sticky from their body sweat; Jett kind of wishes he'd rolled down the windows but doesn't want to ruin the moment, letting his head drop down and ass stick up, shaking it a bit which makes the man behind him chuckle. "Good boy," Lukas breathes as he plants feather-light kisses down the Australian back, a finger teasing Jett's hole.
His companion takes his time preparing and working Jett, taking the second condom and rolling it down Jett's length (to not dirty the seats, he realizes; he'd have to remember that) before the Australian feels the seat dip and something press against his ass. "Lukas," he moans wantonly and finds himself reward with a kiss to the back of his neck as Lukas's cock pushes into him. Jett feels his breathing hitch, his body adjusting to the foreign feeling before relaxing. The Norwegian, to his great credit, knows just when to wait and when to move; Jett's always figured that between Berwald and Christen, Lukas rarely got to be the one penetrating and so knew just what the Australian needed.
His toes curl and his body moves with the thrusts, both men rocking as they build up speed. A hand wraps around Jett's cock, stroking it in time with Norwegian thrusts. The only sound Lukas lets escape his mouth is his breathing, hot and heavy, as he bites and kisses the back of Jett's shoulder.
The Australian is a lot less quiet, moaning, "Yes, God, yes," between strangled cries of, "There, Lukas, fuck yeah there!" And between the cock inside him, the hand stroking him, and the lips on his back Jett doesn't realize he was anywhere close to finishing when he comes, screaming something unintelligible. He pushes back into Lukas as he orgasms and the hands grabbing his hips, the quickening of the thrusts, tells him the Norwegian is ready to come too.
The only sound the man makes is a quiet sigh of, "Jett," and he's pretty sure his name has never sounded so beautiful as when Lukas says it.
He finds his companion with a mug of coffee sitting in bed in one of the guest bedrooms, lazily turning the page in his book. "Hey," Jett says weakly, the first thing either of them have said since they finished having sex.
His head doesn't move though those deep blue eyes do look up, taking him in. "Hey," Lukas breathes.
"If– if you need anything," the Australian starts, a little distracted and a whole lot confused. He really wishes he'd thought through what he was going to say before announcing himself. "I'm, you know, just down the hall."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," and Jett brings his eyebrows together, confused if Lukas had genuinely forgotten where he'd shown him the master bedroom was or if the man was teasing him. "Thought I should remind you is all."
"You don't have to," Lukas says, finally looking up as he places the book down on his bedside table. Jett gets the distinct impression that they may be having two different conversations.
"Why's that?"
Deftly the Norwegian reaches over to turn down the sheets on the empty side of his bed and Jett, though not necessarily a rocket scientist, takes the hint. "Really?" he asks, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to Lukas.
"More room, in a bed." Forget Jett's lucky day; this was turning out to be Jett's lucky night.
The sunlight is harsh as it cuts through the room, the Australian not used to waking up in a different part of the house. Hair sticks to his face and there's a weight on his chest: Lukas, that's right. They'd been up till 3 in the morning more or less going at it like rabbits and Jett had enjoyed every moment of it.
"Dude," someone gets in from the door and realizing that that was what had woken him, Jett rolls his head over to find Alfred and Matthew standing at the entryway. The American, smiling wide, laughs as his brother looks mortified at having intruded on the scene. "And Arthur said I was a manwhore!"
"Fuck off mate."