Dear Hiccup,
Your green eyes stare at me, piercing my soul, burning deep within me. They seem to yearn for desire, and have a fiery passion in their depths. You drive me crazy! You make my flesh hot, you make me shiver, and you're probably twenty degrees warmer than I am.
As I run my hands through you brown hair, I bite along your collar bone, teasing your warm sensitive flesh. I yearn for your gasps that send shivers down my spine, or the moans that tell me you want more.
When I grace my fingers over your skin you shiver at my touch. Is it from the cold or the sheer pleasure from when I touch you? When my breath tickles over your skin, or my cold lips kiss down your bare chest, I feel you flinch. Are you flinching from the shock of my actions, or the coolness of my body?
I could trail my lips all over your being and never make you cold. I could touch you or hold you in any way I want, and you'd never complain or shake in my arms. Your heat burns through me, surging through my veins, urging me on.
You make me melt; you destroy the barrier of ice I have built up. You burn away the darkness and make me cave. Everything I touch freezes, except for you. You only burn hotter and hotter until I push you over the edge.
You are the cure to my curse; you are the fire to my ice.
I want to devour you like the hungry wolf I am. I want you to remain impervious to my icy spells, to melt in my grasp and be mine for the rest of our sweet eternity.
Jack Frost