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 One Kossu too much

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Tino/Finland
No mut ku voi perkele.
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Join date : 2010-02-18
Age : 28
Location : Helsinki

PostSubject: One Kossu too much   Fri Apr 16, 2010 2:13 pm

Is that stars there on that wall? No wait--that's the sky, not a wall.

He might've had more than one shot too much of that deliscious Koskenkorva Vodka, but it's not like that was something he, himself could understand at this point. Another thing he couldn't exactly understand was why all the signs around him seemed to be in Danish. He'd been on his way to Sweden hadn't he? Oh goddamnit I need more Kossu.

If this really was Denmark, and not Swede--VITTU that streetlamp just hit his forehead! --then this had to be Kööpenhamina and that would mean that hot he meant nice no wait hot, no oh never mind! MATTHIAS, should live here. But where was he, is that a tivoli there? Perkele, he really WAS in Kööpenhamina.

He needed a map. The Tivoli is a goddamn tourist attraction, there's go to be one. And yes, he was right, but it was plastered all over some plastic billboard thing and behind glass and even the drunken brain of Tino Väinämöinen could tell that's not getting him anywhere. So he did what anyone would do. Picked up a rock and broke the glass, before pulling out his pocket knife to get the map itself loose. Simple as that.


With the help of said map the drunken nation finally managed to end up on that doorstep. For some reason he could still see the damn Tivoli and he'd walked for hours. The Tivoli must be huge. Not that it matters. The fridge inside this Dane's house matters. He's got to have some vodka or something. Something to drink. Tino's throat felt so dry.

Without realizing a normal person would ring the doorbell he banged at the door, and when it took more than 3 seconds for it to open it was accompanied by a;
"HEI NYT VITTU SAATANA TUU AVAAMAAN MULL ON JANO, PERKELE TANSKA...!!!
(hey now fucking satan come and open the door already, perkele's denmark)

__________________

Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Fri Apr 16, 2010 4:22 pm

Denmark wasn't really the type to stay in much. To be honest, his bachelor adobe, superficially humble and pretenciously stylish (as he thought he heard Sweden say once, if you decoded his speech malfunctions and filled in the gaps with the vowels that they painfully lacked) but not very homey. It had been a long time since he needed extra space, even Faroe, whose room was still upstairs, virutally untouched and exactly as she left it (Mathias, the sentimental bastard wouldn't dare touch anything for fear of sacrilige) lived more or less on her own now (well, on her own if you didn't count sheep), so as a result Denmark's casually posh flat was more suitable for bringing in the current miss (or mr) flavour of the week than snuggling up with popcorn and a movie, the fireplace roaring amicably in the background.

Mathias, to be fair, was actually doing something productive in it for a change and no, it was not even in the purely euphemistic most people would be inclined to believe. Old newspaper spreads rustling under his bare feet, Denmark was repainting his living room with cheer and vigour partial to him just as much as the mess he created in the said living area for this very purpose. He would never admit it, not even under some exceedingly elaborate torture Norway would put him under, that he spent an incredibly, ridiculously girly amount of time choosing the right colour, calling Hungary at least twice a day being all 'so cheescake or custard...hmmmm what do you think about venetian beige? no? well..hmmm there's this midnight something...I canny read it but...er I thought I'd leave that one for the bedroom...venetian beige it is then? Hmmmm do you think I should add custard? No, yeah, yer right. Might end up looking like a motherfucking pancake'. She yelled at him eventually and Denmark who despite deserving it at least five times a day was seldomly yelled at (due to the silent nature of his Nordic brothers only) freaked out a little, got a grip and was now smoothly spreading Venetian Beige onto his living room wall with a sizeable paint roller.

It seemed, however, that people weren't quite done with the yelling just yet. Blinking, the Dane, listened on, a small crease between his darkish eyebrows. What in the name of ----
Wait.
Was that....was that....FINLAND?


Yeah...he was...he was pretty sure it was Finnish. He even understood a couple of words like; 'perkele', 'sataana', 'vittu' and 'Tanska', the last one being the Finnish name for Denmark himself. And he never said anything out loud, mostly because he'd hate to make things awkward between them (not to mention Sweden's uncanny ability to appear right by Denmark's shoulder when he got nearer the shorter nation than Swedishly acceptable), but it never failed to produce an odd, not all together unpleasant sensation in Mathias's lower belly.

Rolling his eyes in a fashion he must have learned from all those years of living with Norge he padded over to the door, muttering something about Sverige needing to take better care of his spouse, because he was no marriage cousellor.
He pulled the door open with what he hoped was a lofty air.

'Hey, Fin, what's up man?' he said grinning down at him before taking a closer examination. Something in Denmark's chest plummeted down. He added in a bit of a whisper, leaning down to squint into Finland's face in the dark, alarm and sheer amusement fighting for dominance in his hushed voice. 'Fin...are you...are you plastered?'


Last edited by Denmark on Tue Apr 20, 2010 5:57 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Sun Apr 18, 2010 4:28 pm

As the door opened in front of him the light coming from inside blinded him. If he'd been sober he would've understood ti was due to his eyes getting used to the darkness outside but now it more seemed like Denmark had died and become an angel. A thought that fascinated the clouded mind of Finland.

"Moro. Tarvin lisää viinaa! Brännvin..! Va säger ni.. Vittu, KOSKENKORVA!! UNDERSHTÄND??"
(Hi. I need more ...strong alcohol... What do you say.. Vittu, KOSKENKORVA!!)

Thinking that him being welcomed to enter the Dane's house at 4 a.m. in the morning was as self explanatory as a cat having wings (--wait, what?) he stumbled forward and hit Denmark's side while trying to pass by him.

"Oot tiellä.. pane nyt vittuun, miss mun viina...????"
(You're in the way, get the hell out of it (go into a cunt), where is my alcohol...???)

The house smelled strongly of something, he couldn't place the smell, but it did remind him of alcohol. Now were did the saatanan tanskalainen hide his fridge?

__________________

Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Tue Apr 20, 2010 7:15 am

Next day, or rather later that day would wonder if this was one of those tricks of the fate he heard about. Like, if there was any way this, theoretically hilarious (but not so much in practice)situation, could have turned out differently if he chose, let's say, Custard instead of Venetian Beige.

He made a mental note to knuckle down to some serious Finnish lessons as of tomorrow, because this was really really frustrating. And hot. Denmark shifted a bit, slightly uneasy by the occurence of this unwelcome, but insistent thought. He shouldn't even think of Finland as hot, not that he did of course, he shouldn't even consider his voice attractive or any other part of him for that matter. Or if he had no choice but to do so, it should only-I repeat-only take place in the privacy of his bedroom and not with the man in question standing, highly inebriated, in his hallway.

Originally, because that was a honour-filled (Denmark couldn't really think of an accurate adjective at that moment) thing to do, Mathias planned to let the Finn drink himself into oblivion and when the latter passed out make a hushed phone call to Sweden to pick his wayward wife up and deal with his hangover (he also briefly considered calling an ambulance if the situation required it).

'You better not have called me a cunt just there' he laughed, quirking an amused eyebrow and placing a steadying palm between Tino's shoulder blades as the smaller man kept bumping into him stubbornly, like a toddler into a wall (Faroe did that a lot when she was little). Denmark tried not to find this floppy Finland overwhelmingly endearing, he was after all, in a precarious state. Gently guiding the Finn, that was still swearing his tits off (at least that was what Denmark reasoned from the tone), he led the way to the kitchen.

'Here's the fridge' Denmark said, carefully, a bit like a man trying to calm down a wild animal. 'Please help yerself to anything you like'

He grabbed a glass and poured some water into it, doubting genuinely that Finland would even touch it but it seemed like the sensible thing to do. Wow. I'm almost an adult.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Wed Apr 28, 2010 2:19 am

He wasn't exactly sure what that Dane was doing, pushing him forward like that but it did somehow make things a little easier. At least he didn't hit any obstacles. One could wonder why everything wanted to be in Finland's way today.

But now we're talking! That's a fridge right there isn't it? "No kato vittu, perkele tajusit!!" (Now look cunt, you fucking got it!!) There would have to be something drinkable in there at least. Finland stumbled walked elegantly, thanks to his balance senses being in the best state they had ever been in.

As he almost smashed into the fridge he saw something that looked suspisciously like a glass in that vitun äijä's hand. He was givng him a glass? Perfect! No wait-- WATER? He's got to be joking, right. Right?!

"Nonnii!!" (Now then!!) Finland blurted out as he ripped the door open to see what was inside. Or well, he lost grip on it as soon as it opened and it smashed open, revealing the contents. His sight was for some reason filled with small blurry dots, that almost looked like birds, but they didn't stop him from recongizing those bottles of beer on the lowest shelf.

"Voi JUMALAUTA vihdoinkin!" (Goddamnit finally!) He said as he pulled out three bottles with one hand.

__________________

Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Sun May 30, 2010 8:29 am

'Ken something Fin' Denmark said, in an amused conversational tone of voice, pulling himself a chair and plopping down by the table. He learned, due to an amazing gift of retrospective and self-study that there was not much point in arguing with a drunk, all you could do is kick back and relax, nod in agreement and then tease them mercilessly in the morning if you were feeling particularly malicious or let it slide if more on the benevolent side. He grinned as the younger nation scoffed at the offered water like a sneezing cat. 'For someone, who's well, pretty much a poof, you refer to the female reproductive organs an awful lot.'

Expectedly, Finland went straight for the fridge, which, Denmark reckoned, was a logical choice and observed, with an utterly asexual interest, merely that of an artist studying a subject (of course), how beautiful Finland's neck was, framed by the blueish light, the tiny fair hairs shining like little optical fibres. He liked his lips and then nearly bit them bloody when it hit him what had just been going through his mind. Jumping up from his chair as if it was made of hot coals all of sudden, turning away from where Tino was prowling through Denmark's groceries in hopes of finding alcohol, hiding his face in his hands and taking a tremulous calming breath. A faint scent of paint. What was wrong with him?.

There was a slur of triumphant Finnish and Denmark turned back to the younger nation, schooling his features into a smile. One that was not nearly as nervous as it felt, he hoped, plus there was a good chance Tino was too sloshed to notice the difference anyway.
'Oh by all means, Fin' he said jovially, sitting back in the chair. 'Just don't go bitching that Danish beer is pish, 'cause it ain't'
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Mon May 31, 2010 5:23 pm

Finland was facing towards the fridge, thus not noticing any of Denmarks odd behaviours at all. Not that he would have even if he'd been facing in the right direction, because his eyes were tightly set on the beer bottles and his mind concentrated on getting them open. This, of course, was no match for a drunken Finn and soon the first bottle was open.

"Nonii sinne se meni ja nyt vittu juodaan!" (And there, there it went now let's cunting drink!) The cap flew off and landed somewhere on the floor. The thought of Denmark possibly not wanting it on his floor never crossed Finlands mind. He was finally getting something to drink!

One "sip" later (it could more be compared to deep-throating, if one would like to make such a comparison) his whole mouthful was splurting on to the floor in the middle of a loud "HYI VITTU". The drunken mind of Finland just -- didn't think of the fact that he would never be able to down Danish beer.
"Saatana mikä ällö, hyi..!!" (Satan how disgusting, yuck..!!) And then the bottle was turned upside down and the contents pouring down on to Denmarks clean floor. Just where they belonged.

__________________

Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Fri Jun 18, 2010 2:50 am

He liked people. And people liked him; chicks liked him, liked his dishwater unruly hair and those sneering eyebrows (that were a step away from the English catepillars, an evolutionary step away, may it be duly noted) and that cheeky smattering of freckles across his nose, because it always got sunburnt no matter how much suncreen he slabbed on, they liked that he could take a refusal with a laugh and (some cheap excuse for) dignity (though he mostly managed to turn it around to his advantage), that he brought them breakfast in the morning and that he managed to remain good friends afterwards. Dudes were more or less the same, just simpler really, since they required less thinking with the head that was on your shoulders. It was all about taking a joke, putting up a fight, having a few laughs. Just look at him and Holland; the banter was excellent and the sex was, well, brain-meltingly, knee-dissolvingly awesome, hell, Denmark could not sit down straight for weeks to come (which always made Norway's face inpercebtibly scowlier...and that was a perfectly legitimate word too). And yet a playful bump of their shoulders or a punch in the arm said more than a thousand of woobie-faced confessions.

Finland, well, Finland wasn't just some dude. Or a regular dude, as a matter of fact. Sure, when he smacked you on the back you could hear your own teeth rattling (and possibly were sent flying into the North Pacific), the kid was like a baby Hercules, but he just wasn't a 'dude'. To Denmark he was somewhere in between.
Not androgynous, God forbid. Just. Just a boy, he reckoned. Now, he wasn't too sure whether boys were supposed to be woo-ed (Mathias cringed at the word, no matter how you said it, it always sounded sad and pathetic) but Tino always struck him as the type. At least that was what Sverige appeared to be doing anyway, as much as that sort of thing could be considered wooing, but then again you couldn't expect too much from a social retard.

Denmark wondered if Sweden noticed. If others noticed. How Finland sometimes licked his lips before speaking, how he always smelled like crisp winter air, with something woody to it, like a pine forest in midwinter. He wondered whether Ivan had noticed those things. He wondered if he had loved him.

Denmark would have.

There was a yell and the Dane blinked himself out of his haze, realizing that he had been staring vacantly at hi kitchen tap for good five minutes if not longer. He blinked again and his eyes (the traitorous bastards) zoomed in, ever so conveniently, on Finland, who was having something that could only be described as a make out session with a bottle of Tuborg. Denmark's jaw dropped...first in awe at this undiscovered talent of Fin's and then in blatant indignation, because that disgusted splutter was highly uncalled for.
He had no idea what Tino actually yelled, but he got offended just in case.

'No, no, no' Mathis reprimanded cheerfully, salvaging a Tuborg from the Finnish wrath. Humour, yeah, he could do humour. He could do humour in his godamn sleep. Denmark had no idea what brought on his sudden (well, not so sudden, but he'd rather not get into that one, like, at all) fascination with the realm of Finland but he could turn it all around. Youse just watch!
'If yer gonna give head to a Danish bottle' he said casually, hands up in demonstration, like an overenthusiastic weatherman. 'Yer've got to have the common decency to swallow.'
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Tue Jun 22, 2010 2:05 am

The bottle was suddenly gone from his hand, the beer-fall down onto the floor stopping abruptly as Denmark had taken the bottle from his hand with a quick snatch. His eyes followed the bottle and found their way to Denmark that way.

He couldn't exactly see Denmark. He was kind of blurry, almost pixeled, like all those movies online 10 years ago, exploding in strange colours every once in a while. But the Tuborg bottle was as clear as ever before his eyes. Not that he wanted it. And what was that about giving head? Denmark...

"Vittu eiks sull oo yhtään mitään parmepaa?! Jumalauta...!"
(Fuck don't you have anything better than that, damnit...!(God help but oh well))

Almost already forgetting how bad it had tasted, that he'd been pouring it out and that he'd just asked for something better Finland took a step forward, reaching out, trying to get the bottle and it's little content back
"Anna se takai--shin nytt ennen ku... mä..!"
(Give it b-bhack noww before ..I ..!)
And with a failing step he stumbled straight in to the taller manwith a groan.

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Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Tue Jun 22, 2010 7:00 am

Denmark threw his head back, not able to stop the, maybe slightly hysterical, guaff that threatened to escape him. He shook his head and looked at an absolutely indignant Finland, grinning impishly.

'Hey, it's not like you wanted it, eh? 'Tis only fair, right?' Mathias teased with a lopsided smile, growing more and more amused with Tino's drunken wrath. Something that any other half sane being would not dismiss as he had, but then again he was Denmark, and laughing in the face of danger was what he did, which was only a bit funnier than having danger laugh in his face. He reckoned.

The bottle was tipped and the Dane promptly gulped down the remains, just in a nick of time, it seemed, as Fin lunged forwards much like rather poorly coordinated panther. Denmark burst out laughing or, more precisely speaking, started to before the sound came to a halt as some wind was knocked out of him by a flying Finn (which tought Denmark an important lesson concerning flying Finns, the rules of duck and hide to be obeyed in the future). Still sniggering, and secretly proud of how ecstatically amazing blackmail material this all would prove in the morning, wrapping an arm around the flailing man, as he babbled away. And all of sudden, coming close with the boy's flushed face, Denmark felt a little winded. Something that had, strangely, nothing to do with laughing.
'Hey' he said, smiling uncertainly, as one might handling a newborn kitten. 'Hey, steady there, soldier. You okay?'
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Tue Jun 22, 2010 10:18 am

Something kind of warm and soft was holding him, he figured it had to be Denmark but since when did that freak smell this nice? This was like... Nahh. He couldn't place it. But he liked it. Better than that awful beer at leats. Wait. Where had it gone off to?

"I'mm okei ...joo"

He pulled his face back a few centimeters, away from the soft thing that must have been Denmarks shirt or something and looked up at the taller man. It took a few seconds to get it focused but whopp there it was, way closer than he had thought.
Not that he actually had thought about amything.

And he didn't now either, at least not of the consenquences when he suddenly reached up and pulled Denmarks head down by his hair and kissed him straight on the mouth. Or well, if that sloppy slimy thing could be called a kiss.

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Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Thu Jun 24, 2010 4:35 am

It was truly, truly dreadful as kisses went.

And, well, you'd think that maybe that would have knocked Denmark out of his besotted stupour, because, wasn't he supposed to be the only one left with a slice of sober judgement in this hopeless situation? You'd think that, right?

If there was a shred of decency left in Mathias Sorensen's bones, then it chose to remain hidden, because it would have stopped him from kissing back, hungrily, otherwise. Sweet holy Virgin Mary on God's green earth, he tasted. Oh fuck, Fin tasted...peculiarly divine. Vodka thick of his tongue, a hint of salt. Salmiakki no doubt, Denmark nearly snorted a chuckle into the kiss. Figures. There was a slight bitterness to it, a remnant of Tuborg.
Heh. maybe Fin did have a point about it. Heh. Maybe it was an aquired taste after all. Unlike Finland.

The kiss was wet, sloppy and positively awful. Like slipping on a sleet-covered pavement right in front of a bus.
Really, he should have been repulsed and not turned on like some horny teenager.
Honestly, was that how he tasted like whenever he appeared on Norway's doorstep on some ungodly hour? Hell, no wonder he always got kicked in the shin.

He breathed Finland in, along with all the fumes possibly, kissing into his mouth deeply in a desperate attempt to find thar sweetness that had to me so quintenssentially Finland, beneath all that liquor. Sort of citrusy and...chocolate-y? Mmmm...like a humbug. Seemed appropriate. Supposedly domesticated, yet unknown and exotic. Then again it might have just been some lime flavoured Koskenkorva. Denmark was none the wiser. All he knew was that Fin tasted delicious and he wanted more. And more. And then some.
Moaning into that excuse of a snog, he cradled the younger nation's warm cheek his his palm, the other slipping down to the small of Tino's back, keeping hims steady on his wobbly knees.

And that was when in hit him.

Now, due to his rather action-packed lifestyle Denmark had been hit by many a thing, which partially explained how all common sense came to be rattled out of him.
Pots, pans and flowerpots were amongst many. But nothing could have compared with the force this had hit him. In the face. Literally.

His back rammed into the kitchen counter as he sprung back violently, eyes wide and chest heaving.
'Fuck, no, fuck' he rasped out, appraising Finland with the coherence of a deer cought in the headlights of a transport car. God, his lips. They still tingled. Like from that sour-pop fizzy candy.

Now, Denmark had never really panicked, much less had a panic attack, but he reckoned that was how it felt to have one; he half-expected to fall, face-first, into his non-Ikea tiles, foaming at the mouth. Neither of that happened sadly (would have saved a lot of hassle with what was to follow), but he wished someone would be kind enough to pass him a godamn paperbag. Tino probably hadn't even intended to kiss him, plastered as he was.
'Fin, look' he said, hands before him in his best 'let's be reasonable about this' gesture (never worked when faced with trolls). 'You need to listen carefully, you don't know what yer doing, I dunno what I'm doing. Let's just forget about this. And now, I need you to punch me here' he ploughed on, indicating his jaw ' very hard. Because trust me, yer gonna want to do it in the morning but yer hang-over won't let you'
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Sun Oct 10, 2010 8:18 am

His lips were all over Denmarks. Or maybe it was the other way around. It didn't really matter. It didn't even matter who it was. There was a pair of lips right in front of him that just... ...needed to be kissed.

His mind told him he must've been right, when the owner of the lips answered the kiss, kissed him back like no tomorrow. To stop the swaying so things would maybe work better he slipped his arms around that neck. Mmm, had Denmark always tasted this good? Had he even tasted him before? No idea. But this was... hot.

So hot he found himself pressing closer. As close as possible. Just closer.
And then suddenly Denmark was gone. Dashing backwards like as if Tino had turned into some dangerous animal. Or a ghost. Or something. Something that made aquiring as much distance as possible as fast as possible. Tino didn't understand why at all.

Punch him?
Why would he do that? Okay, that was Denmark right? Yeah he could be an ass at times and he and Berwald were always fighting but Tino didn't have a reason to punch him, did he? He'd just kissed him! ...and wouldn't mind another one. Not at all. Tino stopped staring at Denmark, completely blind to the fact that the other seemed to be panicking and chuckled, stumbling closer to the other again.
"I know wha'm doin', vittu!" Another chuckle and his hands were on Mathias chest and his lips reaching up again. Maybe he was a horny drunk.

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Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Tue Oct 12, 2010 7:43 am

Denmark was going to hell in a handbasket, that was for sure. Well, he was pretty certain about that fact beforehand. If he were to die (could he die, even?) he'd probably end up in some firey couldron of tar with Belzeebub himself stirring the Danish stew every so often. Denmark always used to think this was a rather ambitious goal for an afterlife, all things considered, but the way the current hopeless (oh so so fucking hopeless) situation presented itself, he might even end up having his liver torn out by vultures like the mythical Prometeus. That would seem about approapriate, Mathias reckoned.

Because even though he backed away violently, all he wanted to do was to get back there and kiss Finland some more. Preferably for the next hour or so.

The fact that Tino just stood there, apparently oblivious to the consequences that this occurence might bring, bright eyed and oh so fucking delicious Denmark didn't even know what do with himself. Part of him as truly happy that Finland didn't really register what was happening or well, he did, sort of, but all the alcohol made it easy to dismiss no doubt.
Mathias tried not to look, not to look, because he couldn't bare to look the smaller nation in the eye.

Okay, okay, let's just edge away, edge away...edge away
Yeah that was the right thing to do, he would just gently slip away from the kitchen counter, run past Finland, upstairs, lock his godamn room. Probably attend to some...uhm...unfinished business and never ever speak about anything that happened tonight to anyone. Not. a. living. soul.

And then Finland's hands were on his chest, just like that. Searching, and somehow really innocent and Denmark had to look down, he had to (and that would be what he was going to keep repeating to himself later on), into Tino's hopeful face.

Fuck this. Fuck this. Everyone else thinks I'm a bastard anyway

'Come here'
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Tino/Finland
No mut ku voi perkele.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Tue Nov 02, 2010 4:44 pm

Come here.

He wouldn't have to say that twice. A wide grin spread over Tino's drunken face (if what already was there could get any wider, that is) and a chuckle escaped his lips. The sound was kind of... bubbling. Must've been a burp at the same time. Not that Tino himself noticed it in any way.

But wow Mathias sure did have a nice chest, too bad it was covered by that ugly shirt. Oh well, maybe he'd get rid of it later. Mmm, pretty collar bones and neck, wow how had he never noticed how hot the man was. Because hell, this couldn't just be that Kossu, could it? Kossu had never had this effect on his previous love object(s).

Closer, closer, oh so close, chest against chest, mm, why did it never feel this hot with Sweden? He had no fucking idea, but he wanted this man here and now. Just, nothing mattered. Nothing else even existed. His brain was a fuzzy cloud of two three different things; Alcohol, Denmark and sex. And so he reahced up and forced his mouth on Denmark's again, this time pressed so much closer, that if he could've concentrated on such things, and even had the ability to care about it, he would've been sure Denmark could feel his quickly growing erection through his trousers. And this just from a quick kiss and some "innocent" touching.

Oh perkele, how he loved that kossu.

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Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Wed Dec 08, 2010 6:32 am

It was an outstanding fact of nature, how despite being inebriated to a nearly fatal point Finland still showed signs of quite unperturbed cognition. A highly selective one if one took under consideration what was actually being said and implied. Not that Denmark did, naturally. Who was he to throw a fuss, right? There was Fin wobbling over to him like a shitfaced toddler. It broke his heart a little. How Tino managed to roam his hands on the Dane's flannel covered chest, lighting every single tiny never hidden under the material, god, he had never...never felt like this. With Norge, of course, but even that was different. Calculated somehow, they both had always known that no matter how the history played out, behind closed doors it was Norway that always always had the upper hand. Denmark knew the other man loved him, in his own way, at least he assumed so. Hell, he hoped so. But with Norway one could never be sure whether it was you he came to see or whether it was something else that chased him back into your arms. Mathias thought it ought not bother him, he wasn't a deep kinda guy anyway, it really did.

And this, this was different. Denmark was as drunk with love infatuation, infatuation! with Finland that it could only be compared with the latter intoxication with Kossu. Heh, he guessed they were equal in this after all. Which, the older man maintained firmly in his own head, made what happened seconds after legitimate.

He kissed him, Tino still tasting like liquorice and vodka and Denmark kept on kissing, craving Finland more and more and deeply, pulling the boy impossibly more. God, it was nothing short of a miracle that Fin could even get hard at his level of intoxication, but here he was, apparently very happy to have him, the hardness pressing intently into Denmark's hip could vouch for that. Denmark ground back, one hand sneaking to Finland's back and lower to lift the smaller nation up, grinding their clothed erections together.

Jesus Christ and all that was holy. Yeah...yeah, definitely worth going to the fiery pits of hell for.


Last edited by Denmark on Tue Jan 18, 2011 12:34 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: One Kossu too much   Sat Jan 08, 2011 9:05 am

Tino stood on his toes to reach higher as the taller Mathias gave in and pulled him closer. Never once did the thought of this maybe not being like things should be crossing his vodka-induced mind. Nothing about what would happen later, not even Sweden. (Except for in the context of comparing the two men and realizing Denmark was so much hotter.)

A low groan escaped into the kiss as he grinded back almost too eagerly. At the same time as he was clumsily sucking on Mathias's lower lip his fingers fumbled with the buttons on his oh-so-irritating shirt, wanting (needing) to get in underneath it.

The pleasantly numb feeling in his body that the alcohol always caused was mixed with something very close to fire (alcohol burns well, eh?). And it was spreading fast. Like those Russian forest fires in spring.

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Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa,
kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien.

Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand,
Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord.
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