Credit: Thank you so much minn' for beta reading, ValeurStories for the Danish translation, and Lille Venn for the Norwegian translation

Disclaimer: Surely you all know that Hetalia is Himaruya's, not mine

Warning: yaoi PWP with overdose sap and florid diction, so get your vomit bag ready, readers

A/N: Christmas gift for middletails

A bit of cultural notes:

"Bjørnen og bjørnemannen har ikkje same meining" or "the bear and bear hunter are not of the same opinion" is a Norwegian proverb.

Alver = elves

Baldr is said to be the most beautiful god in Norse mythology.

Sigyn, the wife of Loki, is most notable for constantly protecting her husband—who is tied onto a rock as a divine punishment—by catching a gigantic serpent's venom with a bowl until the end of the world; whenever the bowl is full and she empties its content, the venom would drip onto Loki and the god's cries of agony would cause earthquake.

Of Flirting and Trolling

Sex. Norway often wondered how a single term could mean different activities. With any other nation, it comprised a mere series of thrust-ins and pull-outs. With Denmark, the connection of their flesh was nothing but a prelude of two souls connecting deeper than their bodies could reach.

There used to be times when a tryst was tantamount to a clash of axes, a woo to a shout, a kiss to a kick, and an embrace to a wrestle. Courtship went hand-in-hand with punching and biting and bleeding until both were sore. When Denmark swore, "By Odin, you are tight!" each time he entered Norway, the shorter nation would yell, "No ear could listen to your whine without groaning, you—ah— insolent scoundrel!" even though his own arms clawed his partner's back, drawing the boisterous nation closer to him amidst the tangle of their limbs and the mingling of their sweat. In the tree-cloaked forest, in their grand hall lined with the drinking horn-laden long table, in their oared wood-wreathed ships, in their thatched hunting hut by the hearth … it made no difference where; whenever Denmark took Norway, he always knew how to kindle desire and elicit screams from his lover.

Olaf Haakonsson's inheritance of both the Norwegian and Danish thrones, which unified the two countries from 1380, gave Norway all the excuse he needed to show less reluctance to his partner's advance. But then, Denmark had not unleashed his full control over Norway before Sweden withdrew himself the Kalmar Union in 1523, thus leaving Denmark–Norway under the hegemony of the Copenhagen king. The reformation introduced in 1537 only strengthened Denmark's possessive trait. He would often pull Norway into his embrace only to declare, "I shall not let you relinquish me, Norge. Not now. Not ever."

All those times, an internal war raged within Norway's chest. He—as any nation did—had his pride. He longed for freedom to determine what would be best for him and his people. He aimed for glory. He wished his citizens to prosper. He wanted to achieve many things. Yet, a part of him—the less rational, more affectionate part which he himself abhorred—did not want to part from Denmark's warmth.

Like now.

Centuries had passed since then, and now mankind had even erected skyscrapers that speared the lofty heavens; yet, it remained an enigma to Norway why he felt comfortable in the presence of such a boorish nation. He sighed; he had just finished buttoning up his pajama, but the presently naked Denmark would likely to unbutton them soon. The taller man's fervent breath were chasing him and sending the hair on his nape prickling with excitement. His whisper was so low that Norway could not hear him properly, though it suspiciously sounded like, "I want you."

Evidently such ardency did not go unreciprocated. Even as Norway did his best to calm his hammering heart, he could not help mimicking the three simple words in his mind. It was not as if Denmark had never told him this before, but a tingling sensation mysteriously crept underneath his skin whenever he heard that phrase coming out of the Dane's mouth. Denmark had one hell of a temper; during the last two days, he had been so grouchy that Norway shunned his companionship. However, he could also be charming when he wanted to, and when those times arrived, a bear would sooner be of one opinion with its hunter than Norway could resist Denmark's entrancement.

So preoccupied was the Norseman in his thoughts that he became two seconds too late to realize that his seducer had already tilted his head to the side. Denmark chased after Norway in the shorter nation's own mouth. The Norseman's tongue slid away from his pursuer's, evading the capture and sensing a faint trace of some mint toothpaste in its course. But it was not long before the agile Danish tongue caught up with his reserved lover's tempo, their tongues curling with each other in a voracious kiss.

Denmark's mute serenade trailed downwards. Norway bit his lip as he allowed himself to be indulged by the brush of Denmark's lips against the slope of his shoulder. He felt the light pressure of two palms moving across the chest portion of his pajama before calloused Danish fingers fiddled with the top button. One by one, the buttons yielded under the playful march of those fingers down Norway's chest. The pajama parted to either side and revealed more of Norway's fair skin.

Still, Norway did nothing except letting his gaze traverse the room. Two pair of skis, bindings, and poles leaned against the wall of the far corner. A pair of midnight blue boots stood upright closely together by the door, while another pair—a one-size larger, black one—lay scattered on the floor, unstrapped. The nearby window revealed the snow that unceasingly rained down from the coal-black dome of the sky.

Although there were still two more buttons to go, Norway shifted to release himself from Denmark and approach the window. His lover's protestation trailed behind him, "Where are you going?"

"Closing the curtain," he answered simply. No apologetic concern laced his voice; stoicism had always been what made Norway.

"C'mon, Norge, it's not like anyone is going to spy on us in the middle of a snowstorm. This chalet is the only building on the Memurutinden Mountain, remember?" It was for this reason Denmark stayed away from Norway's more popular ski resorts, after all. In truth, Norway had built the chalet for his holiday destination and even commissioned the alver to conceal the edifice from human eyes with their elven magic, so that hikers could see nothing but rocks and snow when they climbed the mountain. Yet, he decided that Denmark did not need to know this.

The Norseman ignored his partner's plea, his sylphlike legs striding forward with smooth familiarity over the wooden floor and forming silhouettes against the cotton material of his pajama trousers. Not in the slightest did he realize that these mere movements were a feast to his ravenous lover's eyes. Nor was he made aware of this fact until something weighed down his back: Denmark was applying enough strength to keep the shorter nation pinned against the window.

In the pit of Norway's stomach, a jolt came into being. The coldness of the glass surface bit into his skin, tacitly coercing the pebbled nubs of his chest to rigidify. He struggled to break free, but the other nation's muscular torso was still there to hold him down. What was more, the Dane's hands now slipped underneath the elastic waistband of Norway's trousers.

Norway's facial expression remained tranquil as ever, but in his heart, he knew he was going to lose soon, lost in Denmark's irresistible embrace. He did not know how much longer he could contain the throbbing on his inner thighs. Regardless of his familiarity to his childhood friend's intimate touches over centuries of their propinquity, tingles of pleasure coursed through his veins being whenever his lover's hands cupped the cheeks of his backside passionately.

Even so, the fondling of Norway's curvaceous rear lasted as briefly as Denmark's endurance … or lack thereof. Next, both of the Norseman's pants and underpants slid down at one go. The shorter nation felt a yank on his thigh, though considering his lover's nature, this was merely an enthusiastic elevation. Now squatting, the Dane lifted his partner's leg, one by one. He did not, however, put down the second leg after making it step out of the garment that had previously pooled around the standing man's ankles. Instead, he spread it higher and, after admiring the view of his beloved Norge's exposed crotch with an appreciative whistle, he brought his face closer to it, guiding his mouth onto the erogenous zone between the sac in Norway's front and the orifice at Norway's rear.

The slowly rising tumidity between the Norseman's loins told the seducer the success of his effort. With a smirk, the Dane reached out for the pendulous twin spheres and demonstrated the consummate skills of his fingers there.

Norway closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of Denmark's tongue plunging into the depth of his puckered ring of muscles. The heat swelling in his groin sent his thighs shivering and he desperately gripped the curtain as the agile slickness moved to and fro inside him. Then, his ears caught the shifting sound of Denmark's legs—the squatting man was changing his position into a kneeling one, like in a prayer, in which Norway became the sole deity whom Denmark worshipped.

At length, it was Norway who could no longer steel himself against the temptation; his manhood, aching with needs, had sprung to full bloom for a while now. In a sharp voice he demanded, "Do it!"

"And what is it that I need to do exactly?" To Norway's indignation, the exceedingly complacent grin on the Denmark's face simply widened; the rambunctious nation had always enjoyed a thrill of superiority at any given opportunity.

Norway's gaze was riveted upon Denmark's with a look of mingled contempt and entreaty. Like himself, the Dane possessed golden hair and deep blue eyes. Yet, those features seemed to adorn his best friend's countenance better than his own; they only added dignity to his bearing, while the heavy-set mouth spoke of strength. Without stretch of the imagination, one might have likened him to a Viking vanquisher who had learned the twenty-first century vernacular.

With a sharp intake of breath, Norway reprimanded himself; how many more times would he allow himself to be mesmerized by Denmark's charm? He growled through gritted teeth in a tone no less patronizing than that of his previous remark, "NOW!"

Denmark's lips formed an upward curve at the sight of the leaking drops at the tip of the rigidity that beckoned him unashamedly. Better than all the Dane's mouth could have its way with words, the drips of pearlescent liquid at the tip of the Norseman's erect flesh told him of how much pent-up frustration Norway had undergone.

Still, it was not until Denmark had moistened Norway's insides thoroughly by means of lubricated fingers did he claim what he had been offered. Having detached the pajama top from Norway's body, Denmark spun his lover around so that the two nations were now facing each other. He lifted one of Norway's legs for easier access and then parted the voluptuous mounds of his lover's buttocks.

Norway sensed the breadth of a blunt surface lightly touched his opening. It rubbed in gentle circles, encouraging the recipient to familiarize himself with the contact in his most private place, before making its way past the hidden entrance. He felt a stab of lust—every ridge and every vein—as the eager shaft, hardened with desire, passed through the tight ring at the entrance to his opening and pushed him backwards with the sheer force of its virility.

As Denmark's venous member delved within his beloved, Norway's muscles clenched around it. The taller nation waited again, feeling the rippled protestation of his lover's innermost depths until it stretched to admit his girth. Slowly, incrementally, the Dane persevered until he was finally fully inside his childhood friend and his sac nestled intimately against the smaller nation. Relishing the familiar convulsion, he met Norway's heat with his own flame. The plunge into pleasure was boundless—a turbulent tempest that engulfed them both.

Norway clamped his lips as he took Denmark inside him, painstakingly warding the promiscuous groans that threatened to break free from his throat. Even so, his lust-laden gaze met the Dane's, and to conceal further chagrin, Norway buried his blushing face in the warmth of his partner's neck. He felt the Danish heat seeping into him, growing warmer with each passing second. This was Denmark, the one who had been his playmate since childhood and dearest comrade for centuries, and now, for neither the first nor the last time in their lives, their two bodies merged into one.

"Hey, Norge, why is it that you tend to keep your face away during sex?"

In reply to his partner's uncouth inquiry, Norway's breath hitched. Yet Denmark, being shameless as he was, added, "It's not like the way your hips sway and the way your body stiffens don't give away how much you enjoy my dick."

Again, the dignified Norseman refused to let words slip from his mouth and, again the impertinent Dane teased him, "Whoa! You're clenching so tightly around me."

Whether it was Denmark's cheeky remark or his gently assuring actions Norway did not know, but the crushing tightness around the Dane's intruding member lessened. The Norseman took a few intakes of calming breath and the narrow strait relaxed further. His partner's masculinity slid in deeper at the silent capitulation, thoroughly welcomed by the unresisting passage of Norway's most private place.

Trembling at his lover's virile length buried so deeply in his innermost recesses, Norway brushed his lips over the side of Denmark's neck to keep himself from moaning, showering its delicate skin with frenzied kisses, nips, and licks. His hands roamed all over the Dane's back, caressing his partner as zealously as thirsty travelers drink. Through these touches alone, he urged his best friend to move inside him.

A yearning whine wedged Norway's lips open when Denmark withdrew and a guttural vocalization resounded when his earnest lover surged forward. He felt the familiar Danish heat not only at the place where they were connected; the heat was inside him, in front, on his back, around him. He had to do something, anything, before that heat engulfed him completely!

Norway dipped his head and bit the tender flesh on the juncture of Denmark's neck and shoulder. When he heard his lover uttering a pained yelp, he murmured, "You belong to me. No other nation is allowed to mark you the way I do."

"What's this sudden jealousy, Norge? How long do you think has it been since you've become the only one I sleep with?"

Perceiving no change in Norway's tranquil stare, Denmark reiterated his statement, "Dammit! What should I say to make you believe me?"

With heaving breath, Norway leaned forward. His lips sensuously nibbled the shell of Denmark's ear before he whispered his husky reply, "There is such a thing as the enjoyment of territory marking, dolt."

"What?! You wanted me to think you were jealous just so that you can toy with my feelings and—"

But Norway knew the way to tackle his unruly lover. He planted a kiss on the bite mark he had just left. Then he purred, breathing so teasingly close to Denmark's skin like the susurrous rustle of the wind fingering the grass over the vales, "Is that what you really think?"

Denmark, who did not miss the seductive gleam in Norway's topaz eyes, wheedled, "I think you were looking for an excuse to kiss me better even though you were well aware that I never objected whenever you demanded a kiss."

"A correct answer deserves its reward," Norway cooed back. With that, he wrapped himself around his childhood friend—arms thrown at Denmark's back, legs locking over the taller man's waist, feet pulling his lover's buttocks closer and filled himself with Denmark to the hilt. The tinge of scarlet that had suffused Norway's cheeks now turned crimson and the touch of his fingertips on the taller man's skin were tremulous from the intensity. Denmark's masculinity filled him completely, from breadth to length.

Yet, the unadulterated bliss did not drown only one nation.

Denmark could not constrain the groan of pleasure at the back of his throat. No matter how many times he had accustomed himself with the sheath of Norway's insides, this was life's ultimate ecstasy that he could never get enough. Furthermore, the nudging stiffness trapped between his lover's and his own stomachs could not be a more solid proof of how much Norway wanted him. Again and again, he thrust his conquering flesh full force into his partner, shoving the length all the way inside until his groin collided with the Norseman's buttocks.

As Denmark began easing in and out, his tantalization became a fire that devoured his lover's rationality; it sent spasms of rapture throughout Norway's body. No one, no other nation would ever make him feel this way. The pleasure in his rear end radiated over his whole being. This was where the Norseman felt most comfortable, most treasured, most loved. Here, he relinquished self-control and willed himself to be manipulated in the most wondrous way by his soul mate. He could leave everything to his partner here and find his true self again.

'Danmark, bare du kan vekke guden og udyret i meg.' ['Denmark, you alone can evoke the god and the beast in me.']

Rapidly Denmark moved his hips, driving a part of him deep inside in a beautiful pounding rhythm that made Norway's head spin. He pounded more rigorously, to the point of no restraint, as he listened to his lover's rasping breath whilst the latter was placing a messy trail of lovebites along his neck and shoulders.

Outside, the snowstorm grew more inclement and carried with it the hisses that seemed to swell menacingly like the sibilant howls of a rising gale. The electricity went out, leaving the room immersed in tenebrousness.

"Does this chalet have any generator installed, Norge?"

Instead of replying with words, the shorter man sealed his partner's mouth with his own in a long, breath-depriving kiss. Despite the power outage, he was troubled by a greater problem: he was too aroused to halt. In fact, this situation was all the better for Norway; no longer could Denmark see the rosy-tinted heat that flared up his cheeks. So what if the radiator could not heat up the chalet anymore? Right now, Denmark's warmth was everything he needed.

A smile graced Denmark's lips after the kiss ended; gone though the erotic contour Norway's body from his view, his lover's sensuous touches lingered.

Norway clung to his lover with greater urgency. The delirium of lust took over, and he rolled his hips forward to meet Denmark's thrusts. He purred, as though they were meant to be only doing this, and nothing else. Denmark was not the only nation on earth who could punctuate breathing into fast-and-shallow gasps, but he was the one who gave Norway the feeling that he was not a mere nation—one out of many in the world—but an irreplaceable entity whose value Denmark alone could truly appreciate.

The taller nation moaned as he lost himself in their rhythm and could think of only one thing: more. He had to have more of Norway. Rocking the shorter man by the rump, he entered his best friend deeper and deeper. The Norseman arched, accepting every inch of his conqueror. His face absorbed every flicker of delight, as his true love took him to higher pleasure. Each pressure of the Norwegian fingers urged the Dane on, making him vow to give the Norseman the ultimate bliss of lovemaking.

Amid Norway's ragged breathing, his gasps of ecstasy became more and more strenuous to mask. The sound of his body colliding with Denmark's was sublime and a part of his lover was so far up inside him. Their ardor fell in tune with the powerful blizzard driving the frost and ice against the window. Yet, encased in the dusky realm of the night, the pair of lovers perceived nothing but the thunder of their veins.

They were united.

As the inexorable tides of orgasm deliciously crested over both of them, Norway emitted a sharp cry when Denmark brushed against a certain place inside him. The mere touch felt like electric current, and he could not help grasping more firmly onto his lover's sturdy shoulders. Denmark's flesh was pulsing inside him, pushing against his inner walls in a way that drove him crazy. There was nothing Norway could do to stop the pulsation. His muscles constricted. A deep jolt surged from within, begging for release. His heavy panting became more laborious still. His blunt fingernails dug into Denmark's back, pulling his lover tighter and deeper.

Norway's lips parted in a wordless gasp as he came, the orgasm rippling down his spine. His back arched, his hips jerked, and his toes curled, for at that exact moment, his partner anointed his insides with a generous measure of masculine liquid. It felt like an explosion; he was getting lost in the fervor induced by the stiffening of the Danish virility inside his body. Euphoria draped the core of Norway's being at the strange sound of his name from Denmark's mouth. It was high-pitched yet guttural, breathless with reverence yet needy with desire, roaring yet choked at the same time.

The Dane continued to remain inside his true love, whose body quivered in a prolonged bliss. He feasted at the touches of Norway's shivering fingers, and an ineffable exaltation spread over his chest. The entire cosmos faded away. Only the two of them existed. No one else could make him feel this way, just Norway.

Only then did Denmark echo the other man's contented sigh and they stayed that way for a while, breathing together, their perspiring skins rubbing against each other's, before Norway at last remarked, "It's rather chilly with the radiator off, don't you think?"

Denmark did not bother to hide his mirth at this invitation. Although Norway could not see his lover's smile in this sheer darkness, it was there in Denmark's jovial tone. "No worries; I'll keep you warm."

Norway felt a pair of strong hands scoop him from the ground. Denmark carried Norway in his arms, fumbling his way to bed, where, true to Denmark's words, their joint passion burned more torridly than three summer months of heat.

The couple had just finished their fifth round of vigorous lovemaking, when the room was flooded with light once more. The storm had abated and electricity had been restored.

Denmark got up and wasted no time approaching the coffee table, where his laptop was located. Norway cursed under his breath; after all those the breathless whimpers Denmark coaxed from him, now he had to miss the chance to snuggle with his lover because of this goddamn electricity issue. A pinging sound came from Denmark's laptop and the tall nation's concentration seemed to focus solely on the monitor.

The Dane was so absorbed in reading that he did not realize that his partner was creeping closer and then peeped over his shoulder. On the screen was a chat room with sans-serif fonts and purple background. The scroll down position indicated that there had been a long conversation going on and Denmark was currently typing: "STFU IDIOT, UNLIKE U I'VE A LIFE! NO—"

Norway repressed a sigh at his lover's poor netiquette through the usage of all caps, bad grammar, and abused punctuation marks. Nevertheless, he decided to read the previous entry to learn what caused Denmark's vexation. It was posted some four hours prior by someone called "0n10nr1ngl0rd96" and its construction was poorer than Denmark's in terms of spelling: "i bet u turn tail coz u know im rite. chicken! chicken! chicken! chicken! chicken!"

"You're feeding the troll," Norway intoned quietly, but with venomous disapproval dripping from his voice.

Denmark nearly jumped from his seat. Guilt and outrage set a flicker in his eyes and a fugitive flush on his cheeks. He began, "That fucktard started it!"

But Norway silenced the brawny nation with his arctic stare. He shifted to take his seat next to his lover, their sides grinding and their bare skin rubbing against each other's. In this fashion, he rekindled the flame inside Denmark and made the petulant man regret not cuddling with him in bed.

After countless scrolling up, Norway found out that the root of Denmark's anger had originated from a post by another user—RrrainbowLizardofOrz—which stated an allusion to Norway's incompetence in the Terra Securities scandal back in 2007. Denmark took the bait immediately, arguing in Norway's defense, and various supporters soon took sides on their contentions.

What had started as a satiric comment gradually turned into an exchange of expletives. RrrainbowLizardofOrz had even signed out, leaving his most loyal supporter to face the Dane. On and on the verbal battle went; not only its professional grammar and syntax grew more corrupt, but its content also became more distorted from truth. A jumble of slanders about Norwegian politicians' affair, athletes' bribery, juvenile drugs, food poisoning, and human traffic peppered up the chat room. Each time Denmark came up with a decent argument, his adverdsary simly typed "tl;dr."

The more Norway's blue eyes scrutinized the lines, the more acute the pain in his heart became. There was not a line in which Denmark cared about himself; all his fury was unleashed on the grounds that Norway had been insulted. So this was the reason Denmark had been so irritated over the last two days. The Norseman's stomach clenched. He'd had hunches that Denmark loved him even more than all those silly love declarations, but for the first time, Norway felt that maybe, just maybe, he should have treated Denmark more kindly. He had wrongly suspected that the trolls had been jeering on some Danish scandals, like the case of a Danish sperm bank donor's genetic disease or the nude photos of some royalties published by a Danish magazine. But his lover—witless, yet devoted lover—cared for him more than he could have ever imagined.

Over a millennium ago, upon hearing Denmark's love declaration, Norway had inquired why it had to be him. Denmark's verbatim answer back then, delivered in his native language, presently surfaced through Norway's memory unbidden, "Som en plage, sætter du mine knoglers marv i brand. Jeg er ligeglad om en person med Baldrs skønhed og Sigyns troskab skulle eksistere i denne verden. Det er dig og dig alene som min sjæl begærer. Ingen anden." ["Like a plague, you set my bone marrow on fire. I care not if one with Baldr's beauty and Sigyn's fidelity should exist. 'Tis you and only you that my soul desires. No one else."]

It took a few loud heartbeats before Norway's senses came back to him. Gaze still fixated on the monitor, he managed to spew out his trademark mockery, "Is there any guile which has never deceived your eyes, any foolish act which has never laden your hands, and any wasteful effort which has never poisoned your brain?"

Denmark could not decide whether Norway was mocking or complementing him. Those words were harsh, but the look on his lover's visage… He would give anything to keep that enraptured expression on the Norseman's face everlastingly—what would the universe mean, compared to that?

"You are an unspeakable daffy ignominious venal addlepated crabby oaf…" Norway said again with a more affectionate tone as he pushed Denmark to bed, back lying flat against the mattress and hips trapped between the shorter man's thighs. With one swift motion, he bent to claim his one, indispensable love on the lips.

'…men min.' ['…but mine.']

THE END