Topic: [Sweden/Finland] Consummating the Marriage I'd love to see their first time. :3;; With Finland being all nervous, but Sweden being real gentle to make his wife comfortable. <3 Extra points if Finland is afraid Hana-Tamago seeing them.
Answer - "Like a growing fire":
The horizon is pulling its twilight back, the darkness around them feather-light for now.
Tino leans against the door and looks across their front yard, catching glimpses of Berwald between the fluttering white sheets as he takes their laundry down, folds them into his basket. Tino thinks of how seamless Berwald is, almost one with the gentle fluttering of the white linen.
Berwald doesn’t know that Tino watches him when he’s doing this. Berwald’s so focused that he doesn’t sense Tino’s eyes on his back and silhouette. Tino’s grateful that Berwald can’t sense his thoughts – though sometimes he wonders, because they feel so loud in his head.
He feels something paw at his pants leg, and his eyes flick down to see Hana-Tamago. His tail is wagging a little, and he starts to whine when he sees Tino look down – perhaps waiting for a treat, or affection.
As Berwald takes down the last sheet, Tino bends to gather Hana-Tamago into his arms and rub his nose into white fur. When he looks up, Berwald is facing him, perfectly still, the laundry basket slung on his hip.
Tino catches and holds that stoic gaze for a moment. It’s as though his thoughts fly across that space through his eyes, and he can’t help but blush a little.
He is the first to look away, bowing his head a little and turning to go back into the house. It’s his turn to cook tonight, and he doesn’t want to overcook the kaalikääryleet.
“W’tre y’makin?” Tino jumps a little at the voice in his ear as large arms settle around his shoulders. It’s a mostly conditioned response by now – he knows Berwald well enough to know what he’ll ask, when he’ll ask it.
“Kaldolmar,” he replies, using Berwald’s name for a dish they share. “I stuffed yours with pork and rice. I’m, erm, sorry if I cooked it wrong.”
“Mm.” Berwald places his chin on top of Tino’s head and watches the steam rise from the pot. “Thought y’preferred lamb.”
Tino feels his neck growing warm. He’s grateful that Berwald can’t see his face. “I-I can try new things,” he insists. Berwald doesn’t say a word.
“…Are you tired?” Tino turns his head a little. “I – you’ve worked hard today. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow to set up your bed? I-I…w-we can share mine, it’s not a problem –”
Tino’s voice catches and dies in his throat as Berwald presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, starts trailing them across his cheek and down his neck. And he starts to tremble, because he doesn’t know how to deal with this. Kisses on the lips are one thing, as are chaste kisses on the cheek. These kisses are slow, and Berwald’s lips are soft. It’s reminding Tino of what he’s putting out there.
“Y’sure ‘s ‘kay?” Berwald murmurs, and turns Tino around to face him. “Y’r shakin’.”
And Tino looks into those eyes, can’t help but feel a little frightened because Berwald’s gaze is filled with concern and understanding and something like a growing fire, something that’s been out of Tino’s eye until this moment. Tino shakes, but he tells himself that his tight arms and legs and heart are more from arousal than nerves. (He’s half-right.)
“I’m sure,” he whispers, and forces himself to look back into Berwald’s eyes and the fire he sees. “I’m fine.” And to prove it he moves up to his tiptoes and brushes his lips against Berwald’s. Berwald bends down and deepens their kiss, and for a moment Tino’s trembling because it’s warm and soft and everything he’s imagined.
Berwald breaks their kiss, pushes Tino back and nods. “L’ts finish dinner,” he grunts, nodding at the pot. “I got th’ plates.” The bed is soft and the sheets are warm, but it’s not enough. Tino’s body hasn’t stopped shaking since they finished dinner and Berwald kissed his forehead, telling him to go to bed and wait while he cleaned the kitchen. Tino chews the inside of his cheek and tries to continue reading Seven Brothers. It doesn’t take away the taste of lamb and rice threatening to snake its way out of his stomach.
He shifts a little on the bed. It doesn’t creak like his bed in Denmark; it reminds him how much things have changed. Tino reaches a hand back, brushes it along the headboard. The candle casts light and shadow on the decorative carving. Berwald made this bed for him - for us, Tino thinks, and feels guilt chew at him. This was both of them to sleep in, until Berwald discovered that Tino wouldn’t sleep if they were too close. So Tino ended up getting the big bed, and Berwald made another for himself and slept in the room down the hall.
If I weren’t so skittish, I… The guilt doesn’t make him feel any less nervous about what will happen soon. His book won’t stay still in his hands, and he’s trying to think of relaxing things and failing – Tino jumps and yelps as the door to their bedroom opens and closes; he’s suddenly aware that his robe is sloping off one shoulder and pulls it up, blushing. Berwald is wearing a robe, too. But as he turns and looks at his housemate, Tino thinks that it might as well be as if he’s naked.
“I –” Tino tries to stop himself, but the words come bubbling out. “H-Hana-Tamago, I-I-I what if he sees us while we’re – while you and I –”
“Lock’d th’ laundry room door,” Berwald grunts, locking their bedroom door.
“B-but Hana-Tamago is so smart,” Tino argues, trying to keep his voice from rising. “H-he – what if he gets out and starts looking for us to –”
Berwald crosses the room and pulls the curtains shut. He doesn’t look at Tino as he stops by the bedside, places the key on the small dresser, and blows Tino’s single candle out, plunging them into darkness. Tino feels his body go rigid as Berwald lifts the sheets and slips underneath the covers with him. “’s better?” he asks.
“Y-Y-I guess so,” Tino manages, then clamps his mouth shut. They lay like that; Tino counts to thirty before he says anything.
“Wh-wh-why aren’t y-you –”
“Y’ need t’breathe,” Berwald murmurs.
Tino realizes he’s been holding his breath; but something in Berwald’s tone makes his lungs unwind a bit, makes him release his air and take another deep sip, release, take, release, take.
“Good,” Berwald whispers, and rolls over, planting one hand on either side of Tino’s shoulders. Tino gasps a bit, his eyes falling shut as their lips brush and touch. For what they’re doing, Tino thinks their kiss is laughable in its chastity. No tongue, no collision of teeth, just small brushes of lips against lips, with pauses in between for small sips of air.
Berwald breaks their kiss first, trails his lips over Tino’s cheek, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose. One hand dips below the sheets, takes his wrist and brushes a thumb against Tino’s pulse point. Tino gasps and pants and feels tightness, but a good tightness, not the tightness of fear and terror.
“Y’r still shakin’.” Berwald’s lips brush against his ear.
“K-keep going,” Tino gasps, and lifts the hand not being held to grasp at Berwald’s terrycloth robe.
Berwald pauses; then he kisses Tino’s ear again, runs the very tip of his tongue around and down the shell, and starts pressing his lips to Tino’s neck. The lips are warm and so, so soft where the blood rushes and beats through his system, and Tino shivers at the feeling, at how nice it feels.
Berwald lets go of Tino’s wrist. His hand moves to Tino’s chest, sneaks under the bathrobe to splay against pale skin and the blush that’s forming on it. Berwald kisses and tongues the dip in Tino’s throat, the little pool just below his Adam’s apple. A petal of fire unfurls in Tino’s gut and dissolves into his blood.
His hands are still shaking, but Tino’s sure it’s for entirely different reasons as he undoes the tie to his robe. Berwald pulls back as Tino shrugs off his robe and lies back down on top of it; the fire in those eyes grows just a little, and that’s nice, it’s beautiful beyond words.
Berwald bows his head, kisses down Tino’s collarbone and chest; he runs his tongue over a nipple, grunting in approval as Tino gasps and arches into his mouth. His other hand reaches up to stimulate the other, and Tino feels little shocks of pleasure run down his body, up his legs, growing in the center of him.
Berwald starts to kiss down his body, lips moving over his stomach. Fingers press and move over his ribs; Tino squirms and hears chuckling, and it’s not until Berwald looks up at him that he realizes that he was laughing.
“…it tickles,” he whispers, and looks away, blushing.
Berwald doesn’t move for a minute. Tino gasps as he feels fingers slowly traveling up and down his sides, feather-soft.
“’s a nice sound,” Berwald rumbles, and kisses Tino just above his bellybutton.
Tino realizes where Berwald is, his face turning a furious red in embarrassment, wondering what Berwald’s reaction will be to his –
But Berwald doesn’t do a thing. He doesn’t even look at Tino’s cock as he ducks his head between Tino’s legs, starts trailing his kisses down the inside of those thighs. And Tino feels his heart grow a little larger, because he realizes Berwald knows how self-conscious he’s feeling.
Berwald tongues and kisses his thighs, the skin underneath Tino’s legs. Tino’s body turns to warmth, liquid and molten, and his hands clutch at the sheets beneath him. “Please,” he gasps, and squeezes his eyes shut. “I…please,” and he’s not embarrassed that it comes out almost as a sob.
Berwald is stone still. His fingers freeze on Tino’s ankle where it rests on his shoulder; his other hand rubs at Tino’s hip bone.
Berwald nods, slowly, and puts Tino’s leg down. His own fingers undo the knot at his waist, and he sheds his robe, reaching into the pocket and pulling something small out before depositing the robe over the side of the bed.
Tino can’t help but look, and he feels as though his face is on fire. Berwald’s large, and fully erect; he thinks about where that will go and whimpers a little.
Berwald slicks his fingers with oil and leans over Tino’s body. They look into each other’s eyes for a moment, thin Berwald bends his head and kisses at Tino’s temple as he massages Tino’s entrance with a finger.
“Relax,” Berwald whispers as one starts to slip in. And it’s easy, easier than Tino thought it would be even if it hurts a little. And that can be solved by gripping at Berwald’s shoulders and panting in his ears as fingers continue to slide into him, as his body opens up and lets Berwald inside to share his secrets.
Berwald doesn’t complain as Tino throws his arms around his neck, arches up against the leg pressed in between Tino’s. He just continues to brush that spot, teasing, light, until Tino’s nearly crying and begging for relief.
“Now,” Tino sobs. “Now. Please. Do it now.”
“Y’sure?” Berwald asks, even as he leans back and pours more oil onto his hand, slicking his erection with it.
“Please,” Tino whispers, and shuts his eyes as Berwald lifts his legs onto those broad shoulders, positioning something hard and hot at his ass.
Tino’s eyes flutter open, focus on the end of the bed. And for one moment, Tino wishes that they’d at least have left the windows open, because he wants to see Berwald’s face.
But then Berwald pushes in and all Tino can do is claw and cry out into the dark room as they consummate their relationship slowly, steadily. It only hurts a little, and maybe it’s wrong that it turns Tino on a little, but he’s so far gone and lost that he doesn’t care.
Berwald pulls out a little, pushes back in, rocks back and forth as Tino tries as best he can to reciprocate. His hips are moving, and they seem a bit off, but Tino doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he’s crying out and it’s so good –”
Berwald stops moving, and it’s so abrupt that Tino’s eyes fly open. Berwald’s suddenly leaning over him, eyes wide, and for once that stare doesn’t scare him because there’s something like wonder in those eyes.
“Did I-I…do something wrong?” he asks, and the fear in his stomach now has nothing to do with nerves.
Berwald crushes their lips together and starts to move again, filling Tino over and over as they hold each other close; they gasp against faces and cheeks and neck and climb towards release. Tino’s not listening to what he’s crying out, he’s so lost, but Berwald seems to like it, because he’s peppering kisses against Tino’s clavicle and moving faster, faster, and soon it’s too much Tino can’t take it and he –
Tino screams and comes between them, semen making their sweat-slicked skins even more slippery. He tightens around Berwald, who only manages a few more thrusts before he comes, too, riding out his orgasm as Tino squeezes around his cock, tight and wet and it’s beautiful.
They collapse to the bed and pant and drift. Tino recovers first, rolling them over onto their sides and reaching up with his arms to hug Berwald’s neck, cover it with kisses.
“…T’nk y’,” Berwald murmurs into Tino’s hair.
“Mmm?” Tino’s falling asleep, his mind expanding and stretching away from him, and it’s hard to hear.
“…f’r sayin’ m’name.”
And before Tino can respond, he’s fast asleep.
Tino is the first to wake the next morning, blinking awake as he surfaces slowly. His pillow is warm and fleshy, and the heartbeat tries to pull him back down into sleep. Resisting, Tino lifts his head a little, slipping it out from underneath Berwald’s chin to look up. It’s funny how much friendlier Berwald looks in his sleep. He looks a little happier, too. I wonder if that’s because I said his…
Tino doesn’t remember much of what he said last night, but ...
Kaoru-no-kimi