A/N: I'm not very comfortable using first person POV, hence I don't used at all and I lack the practice on it. But everything I write it's always an experiment.
Side note: This one-shot is dedicated to Itsasumbrella (who she already read it and I'm so happy she liked it), for reasons of her story's second anniversary. Please please if you know Spanish, go read her story! It's called Wicked Game and it can be find in fanfiction and ao3, she's amazing as a person and as writer, and has built her story with such complexity and it's simply good!
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"East; it'll gain us time," says Eret. His knuckles balances on the table, the fingers of his left hand tap repeatedly over the stretched map. He's very anxious, I can tell by those two single signs. I can't blame him.
Everybody gathered here it's in a state like him, including myself. And everybody is summoned and drowned in their own ideas, barely letting anyone contradictor them. They are so self-convinced their way is the only way. It's greatly tiresome, to be shrouded by them, yes; they're good in what they do, and they have far more experience, but Viking stubbornness can suck your energy out.
However, truth it's said when I say my husband does better than them and everyone, except me, I can't allow him to surpass me.
"Not that is bad, Eret. But your plan is, uh, ambitious," he says, propping his weight on his palms, shrugging. He always has shrug, since I recall. When I was mean and idiot to him at age fifteen, I considered his nervous manners annoying and un-Viking. Oh, how I thought when he wasn't worthy and simply a hurdle, not only to me in the training arena but to the whole village. Fifteen years later and I couldn't be more in love with him, with all his flaws and what makes him… him, my Hiccup. Who shrugs here, who shrugs in our home, in our bed too; his bare muscles flexing while he's between me. I bring my fingernail to my mouth and bit down it, concealing now those images is quite difficult.
Fifteen years later, two kids, entering thirties; and we have ourselves well wrapped around our pinkies.
"South," hollers one of the men. "As the Chief proposed!" he continues excitedly.
What are we discussing? Coal and copper, where we could we possibly get it. New Berk is sufficient, it has vastly flora, not much variety in fishes. Life in the forest is ample but not entirely plentiful. And we're lacking.
It's terrifying; Hiccup and I don't fully understand why it is happening. We administrate most of what it entails livestock, thus, Gobber help us with smithing materials. Inventories and all, yet, it's like someone it's stealing us.
I'm afraid of the Council, since they're gifting us lots of patience. I'm afraid when this accumulativeness bloats and explodes in all of our faces.
"Astrid." My head snaps upwards, my eyes set on him. Even in the dim of candlelight, his auburn hair outshone, my hands itches for comb it and his bushy —neatly cut it by me— beard too.
"Yes?" I reply, keeping the taunting 'babe' with me.
He surveys me, down and up, suddenly his hands clasp in fists.
Am I distracting him? Not my fault.
"You haven't thrown any ideas in, um, half an hour ago."
Is he calling me out?
Half an hour is when I shouted at someone for its disrespectfulness. Hiccup gave me a disapproving look that I didn't face in its entirety. So, knowing I'd waste saliva, I just stood quietly for the rest of the reunion, letting them speak their hungry and mead-lacking minds up, everyone was just barking arguments and swapping ideas. No conclusion.
"You're handling well," I tease.
His eyes harden on me. My thighs clench together under the thick layer of my skirt. Gods! I'm actin' giddy and silly!
"So good for a General," he reproaches. What is he implying?
"Something it might bother you…" I skim my stare from his torso to his lips, "Chief?" He is practically eating me with only his green gaze. Good.
Also not so good, due we're in mid-meeting. I clear my throat, Hiccup does the same. We quickly squint around us. People are not stupid. Ten of the twelve men with us are eight to twenty years older than us. They were who Hiccup and I listened secretly their lewd stories back when we were seventeen and wanted to risk. We ended risking, but at that time we were already betrothed.
'Lovebirds', I can hear them thinking. We're still like newlyweds, even after two kids —that are warmly tucked in their beds right now.
"I have agreed it to your inclination in going south," I hold his attention again. He nods at me before clapping his hands together.
He sighs, "My lady has speak up. South it is."
Many groaned, out of relief that finally we could go to rest, or either their options weren't taken.
"Babe," I whisper. The Council is retreating, so I feel at ease. We often call each other 'honey' in public —I don't remember where it came from—, but telling us 'babe' is our signature, adding that's more intimate for us.
"Yes," he distractedly answers, he's collecting loose papers and piling it them up.
"You coming home tonight, aren't you?" I asked him this because lately he is staying at high hours in the night locked in here. It's frustrating. We barely have private moments, the kids growing up and duties take over our time. We cling to the even the one second we have to at least peck our foreheads.
He murmurs something; his hands keep snatching parchments and other stuffs.
"What was that?" I ask him defiantly.
Hiccup exhales long and defeated, "I'm sorry, my love."
There's a snap, a wood, a piece of wood splitting in two. I register it has come from me, the small carved pencil has broken and its rests lay in my palms.
He visibly flinches at my scowl, "I'm sorry." His eyes reflect honesty, he really wants to go with me, but he has a lot to work on. I feel bad.
"I—"
"Eret can escort you," he interrupts.
I ponder it. Hiccup doesn't say it because he thinks I'm incapable of taking care of myself. He suggested it because he knows Eret is one of my closest friends, alongside Ruffnut, but she is not here.
"Fine," I puff out.
He leans and, while it's comforting, the kiss he planted on my cheek it's not enough.
I brush my hand over his shoulders.
"Come soon," I only said. Then, I spun and beckon Eret at my side.
"I saw those sad faces," Eret comments once we're outside. I look up at the sky, dark and scarcely adorned with the stars.
"It's nothing."
"It's always nothing," he says sarcastically.
My mouth lifts to one side. "Mmmhh," What things I haven't told Eret? He knows my life. We are pretty much confidents. The adventures he has recited me. And even has tossed at Hiccup and I a few… bed advices. "Intimacy," I meekly say.
"Oh."
"Yep," I stretch my arms in front, my left shoulder pop. "And the kids… I love them. How I couldn't? I love them so much, and I would give my life for Zephyr and Nuffink."
"But…"
"But Hiccup and I hadn't had… sex in weeks," I blurt out, fidget.
Eret nods, processing the information I remitted.
"I understand it, we're overbearing busy," I tug my vest while I'm saying it.
"Who is with them?" He queries, referring to my children.
"Obviously Valka," Valka, she's so good with us, and her help is immensely welcomed and thanked.
"I didn't see Gobber tonight with us; I thought he was the one caring them," he explains.
I shake my head answering him. "He is resting," Gobber's sight has getting worse the days passes. He describes it like water invading his eyes. It's saddens me and Hiccup. He is the most affected; Gobber is his mentor, and has always been a paternal figure. He is roughed at the edges, but charming… in his way.
"Anyway," I inhale. "I feel like we have so much to carry in our hands. I'm sounding like I'm complaining," I chuckle. The odds life presents. But we have overcome bigger waves. And of course I had acknowledged where I was getting into and what it meant marrying Hiccup. Tying the knot with the heir? Wedded to someone in general? At fourteen I'd had seen it idiotically and going nuts. But it was no nonsense and it was no whimsical heir, it was lanky Hiccup. In addition the honor it brought to my family, most important is that from that day I could freely awake with him in the mornings and go to sleep with his company in the evenings. That I loved him and I will until the end of my days. Enough!
"Astrid," he halts.
"What? What happened?" I'm alarmed by his tone. Seemingly severe, he grasps my forearms.
"You and I know what you want. So, go home, don in the tempting, most reveling nightgown you own, and go back with Hiccup."
I expected dementia flood Eret's mind at his sixties, not thirty-five years old. He's too young.
My lips purses, as my brows knit together again, "I rather sleep and fantasize than unnecessarily steal and bug his time."
"You don't even believe in your words," he flickers at me.
Perhaps it's his penetrative hazel eyes, or my inner, hidden-somewhere voice resurging, that's pushing me to be very inclined to his mad proposal. Yet, "What is it if I don't want to?"
"Because you are lying to yourself," he says it like it's so simple in that low voice of his'.
I feel placed in a crusade. I do want to turn around and head straight to where the man I love is. Talk and spending time, even escalate things with him. I'm in my right if I wish that. However, I prefer left him dealing the chores on his own, because that is how he best works; in solitude.
I'm being logical, right?
He frees his grip off my elbows and curves his hands on his hips, his chin jutes out, "Why are you so adamant?"
Why?
I am… I'm querying myself the same ask.
"But the kids—"
"You said they were with Valka, didn't you?"
I did.
I bit my lip whilst I set my glance at the enormous Stoick's statue.
It's not… it'll not be… wrong. One night of thousands; an opportunity openly awaiting. No one, not a pity soul wanders the Great Hall at these hours. Hel, not even around in the village. No bursting interruptions, just Hiccup and I.
Yeah.
"Yeah, no," I inwardly hit me.
"Astrid," he warns. He is clearly losing patience.
"What if he doesn't want me with him?" What the fuck I'm saying again?
"What are you talking about?" he voiced my thoughts. "It's Hiccup. He'll want you there with him even when he's shitting."
Ew. "Disgusting," I grimace.
"Extreme example but not so far from the truth," he folds his arms.
I stroke my eyelids, "I am fighting too much?"
I hear his smirk, "Yes."
"Fuck," I mutter and continue rubbing with the heels of my hands.
"Remember; tempting tunic," his breath creeps in my ear. I scowled at him.
Thanks Thor my house is yards behind the Great Hall, so it's a 'quick' trip. Eret sat down in the wooden chair near the hearth, I gaited silently and carefully the hallway. My children's door of their room it's slightly open, a slit letting leak the weak light. I can't help myself. I stuck my head in, two candles located in each of their small tables asides their beds reveals three silhouettes; Zephyr sprawled in the mattress, the intense blue eyes she has inherited from me banned of sight. Nuffink on the other hand is curled in a ball, hugging his woolen black dragon. My heart sank a moment. We had never forgotten. Lastly; Valka behind him, I presume he had had another nasty, hurtful dream, and had seek her sooth afterwards. It's a heartily, soft picture. I kept it with me.
My room is cold once I stepped in, hurrying in to lit the candle hanging at the entrance, next I stood before my wardrobe. I feel utterly stupid. Is it the insistence worth it? Are the high expectations will accomplished? Because I'll not be wholly admitting it; I did daydream while walking up here. Hiccup chanting my name, Hiccup trekking his hands over my body, playing with my yellowish hair; he'd always said it's like liquid gold and he's burying his fingers on it. Hiccup who is functioning his mind, I'd be a burden right now if I just… saunter within his space. I'm not that desperate. We can wait, there's hundreds and hundreds days —'til our deaths— that we can spare.
Though, an outlet for our weekly stresses…? Appealing.
No.
Gods, I'm resisting against it too much. Have to make my mind.
As if I'm realizing no nightgown will magically materialize by just standing there, I throw in in a search. I have dozens of them, from gifts to buys; I even made one, though it ended too small, I wanted to un-sewing it and put the fabric to a better use, but Hiccup went dramatic over it and basically pleaded me to keep it. I submerge myself in all type of cloths; dyed and non-dyed, thin for the summer and thick for the unbearable winters, see-through and family-together appropriate.
Tough decisions, there're plenty to pick.
I screw my eyes shut and I let my hand pluck out any of them. It's a see-through, I probe with my open eyes now, and it's not like the scandalous terracotta one, oh, Hiccup goes head to heels when I use it. Nonetheless, it's enough to let my bare breasts vaguely reveal.
I'm blushing, Odin, I'm caring too much. "Silly, I'm being silly," my hands unclasps my thick, white cloak. The fur is heavy but complements my General semblance. I sit on the foot of the bed kicking my boots off whilst I untie the laces that pull my spiky skirt tight up.
"Mommy," my heart skips a beat. Zephyr's wide eyes froze me in my place. Her little form leans against the door's frame.
"Sweetheart," I force a smile.
My baby girl brings me joy and limitless love. However, her timing is not the best, as I was just starting to feel frenzy.
"Mommy," she repeats. She's quivering, so I look down at her bare feet. "I heard a noise. I knew it was you."
"Yes, love." I reassure her.
She smiles shyly.
"Zephyr, what did I say of walking shoeless?"
Then her lips pout.
"I'm not staying," I sigh. "I'm going out again, your father… uh, needs my help."
She nods.
"Go back to sleep, love."
She nods again, and then she is running at me and firmly hugs me, her lithe body dangling due her arms had wrapped around my neck. I react instantly, steadying her with me. She might be seven and wanting to appear brave and a fighter —which I don't doubt she is, but once in rare occasions she searches for me.
"She wants to be like you. And with Nuffink the same," had said Hiccup at me one night two years ago.
I didn't notice it, but he was right. Even though Zephyr spends lot more time with her father and Nuffink with me, they both have this fascination in weapons and wrestling. I train them either individually or together, never demanding what they can't do.
"I love you," she says quietly.
"I love you too," I respond. She untangles and strolls out and towards her room.
Preventing anymore breaks in, I shut and block the door close with the tiny, metal rod. Then I proceed and slide my trousers down my legs and the leather pools around my toes, I take my furry bracelets before shagging my vest off. In my underwear I smooth the nightgown over the bed, the color cerulean dulled.
"Not bad," I mutter. Biting my bottom lip, I bring my hands up behind my back, between my shoulder blades— and loose the knot holding my bindings. I shudder; the cool air roams my naked chest.
I spent minutes twirling foolishly in front the wrecked, metal shield that resemblances one of those eccentric roman mirrors. The light garment flows and it does looks beautiful. But I'm not concentrated on it. Actually, I'm still mulling over if back up off the plan and stay, or shoving myself in my deepest desire —prioritizing in wearing a thick coat to nestle me from the telltale of the approaching winter, and meting up with Hiccup.
"Astrid," knocks Eret. I huff.
"Where else I could be?" I bitterly ask him.
I visualize his eyes rolling. "You're on with the plan or are you not really interest?"
I want to say "yes!" Odin, I want to scream it. If I could and if it wasn't that it does tremendous bustle, I'd pick my axe lounging in my drawer and throw it fervently. The carved wood covered in finely leather tresses relaxes me in ways no one can come up close to understand. The recall of the sharp double-head landing at an object causes me to smile. My aim never fails. Gods, it makes me think thoroughly.
What hurt could brought a damned reckless, fun night, Hofferson?!
I grab my thickest robe and went outside where Eret awaits.
"Not doing anything with the hair?" He points out. My hand flies to one of the two braids falling down my back, maybe I could get rid of my kransen for tonight. I do it.
"All set up," I announce, smiling triumphantly. I'm not changing anything else; I'm pleased as I am.
Eret whistles approvingly. I sock his bicep this time, not containing me in giving him a piece of his mind.
"Zephyr woke up, huh?" Eret asks whilst kicking some rocks out of the path. I remember momentarily how he also has encourages my children to do the same when they spend afternoon together. While the rest of our friends are great and sometimes teach and play with them —though I'm severely questioning the amount of influence Tuffnut is having over Nuffink lately—, Eret excels as a babysitter. I had had chats with him; Hiccup too has inserted commentaries, but Eret wish none kid of his own. It's sad because I see him as a great father, and we could've arranged play dates with our children.
"She has an acute hearing," I say.
"She'll do well then."
I don't understand at first. Well for what? Well for hunting? Because Hiccup and I were beginning teaching her and Nuffink hunting two months ago, perhaps he is referring to that. A fleeting thought cross my mind; 'Well for a future Chief,' dummy. Right! Since Zephyr is the heir, a seldom circumstance, not the fact she'll be a Chieftess, but because she's the first woman heir. There were some disagreeable muttering among the oldest member of the Council when was announced. Few men wanted Nuffink to become the heir. After five years, Hiccup and I were seeing we did the right decision. Nuffink is far more interest in swords and sparring and action, he even confessed to me once, "Mommy, I want to be Berk's General."
"Yes," I only answered Eret.
"May I ask," he suddenly spoke.
"Go on."
"Why were you reluctant?" He refers to my opposition with his plan.
There's a long, lame answer, with amounts of excuses intertwine with understandings reasons. I tuck a fringe of my light hair behind my ear. "It was a reasonable react."
"Jumping straightforward is a reasonable react."
"Well, why you don't go instead of me?"
He waves his hand in the air, "Nah, I don't smooch with married men."
I laugh. "Anyways, I wouldn't want to disrupt Hiccup thinking."
"Again with that," he sighs irritate. "Ten years and you haven't seen how your mere presence brightens his day, Hel, his life."
"You know what I mean!"
"You two are too jittery and stressed. This little affair will slack you both. Trust me," he says cheerful. Close to hopeful.
When we finally reached the top of the stairs before the heavy doors of the Great Hall, Eret lifted his fist inviting mine to collide with his.
"Go after him, General." His teased tone draws me out a giggle. Our knuckles met and then we gave each other farewell nods. He strode down and directly to his house.
Meanwhile I sighed deeply. It's Hiccup who I'll face, my husband of ten years. He won't bark me out, has never yelled at me and never out of an argument —I'd break his teeth if he ever does it. I form hundreds of scenarios; either he would be surprised for have me there or would barely laid his eyes on my presence. I'm still thinking I should let him be, whatever he's studying and planning it's very important. The least I'd have done it's bring him food. We haven't eaten in hours, and though we have the barrels of water at disposal, food does its goods in the system.
'Go in there!' Nags my most head-settle part of my brain, it is freezing shit outside too. A last thought hits me; when did Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III ever reject me? Certainly never, not even when were twenty and he would hide in the forge in the aftermath of his father's death, in those months I was the one who brought his food and drinks, I was the one who checked on him if he slept or rest his knotted back. I was the one he chose to dip within and momentarily forget the storm of feelings he was going through. But now is different, isn't it? Well, not a severe difference. Nowadays is just more responsibilities to attend and oh gods! I'm fatally stubborn.
I tighten the cords of my brownish robe. This time for sure.
When I push the doors slowly, I'm welcomed by a warm seeping pleasantly in my bones. It has darkened than when we left, and I realize Hiccup must have blown the few candles around. The smoke of the fire pyre reaches the high ceiling but its cinders still shone a sparkling orange. Why haven't Hiccup lit it again?
And I know why.
The feeble sheen of light coming from the torches behind him outstand his body features and clothes. He's too absorbed in furiously writing down whilst his right hand quickly flips the pages of a book. Oh, he is investigating. I took four steps and the pencil drops, I froze. I expect my name echoing, but it's just his fingers blindly searching something in the table. I look up at his face and notice that delightful trait of his; when his lips mutter the words his eyes read. But then he cringes, as if a thing hurt him. I glance again at his fingers; the muttonhead had pinched his middle with the compass needle.
Instead of walking towards him, I derive to where the barrels are placed. Water and mead, I choose the second, filling two mugs for me and Hiccup. It's an advantage for me he is nose-deep in what he's reading, that way I'm allowed to approach from behind. That way I could peruse the food at his left, sipped and fat abandoned. Amusement fueled me at the sight of the wooden pot, where I'm most than sure it was a broth of meat and potatoes. Kolr's grandniece —a member of the Council— has visited him. Or picked up her granduncle and left Hiccup the food. She is twenty-three and part of the brigade of cookers; her broths are very well known, but the girl risks too much. She never miss in gift one for my husband. I wouldn't care that much, I could have taken it as a gesture of friendliness, if it wasn't because the girl continually makes eyes at him and boldly flirts with him. Hiccup had never ever followed her invitations, he never acknowledges it actually. Kolr's grandniece has a hopeless crush on him. It had bothered me, but now it brings me never endless laughs.
"Eaten well?" I creep from his back, slamming the two mugs side where his tools are.
"Ah!" He startles. I laugh.
His face is so close to mine, his lips a breath away, but I refrain myself from kissing him. Not yet.
"When—?"
"What are you writing?" I browse over his shoulder.
"Stuff," he casually says.
I hum, "You ate well," I push again. Not out of jealousy, but to confirm my suspicions and relieve myself.
"Yeah, Eirný was nice in give me her famous broth when she picked up Kolr, though I burned my tongue," he pouts.
I knew it! Ooff, now I can relax. I tilt my head, smiling, and took his cheeks in my palms. "Oh, poor you," I sickly sweetly say, pouting my lips like him. "Did it hurt you?" He nods eagerly, fluttering his eyelashes. "Oh, good thing is I brought you mead!" I bit my lip when his expression plumed. He was totally waiting a kiss or some same action from me.
He swallows a generous mouthful of the honeyed drink. "I have to ask," he wipes clean his mouth. "Not complaining, not want you to feel offended, okay? But, why are you here?"
I expected the question, "Because I can."
"Not an answer," he frowns confused.
"Is not the answer you wanted," I pointed out.
He sighs exasperate. "Astrid."
I smirk; it's easier than any reply, 'actions above words'.
In his exhaling, his shoulders fall slightly, but it's barely noticeable due his fur, hm, I know where to part in my improvised plan. "Let me…" I jerk the fabric, the pelt dances as it is took it off.
"My 'lady," he calls. I hang the cloak in the back of the chair he isn't seating on. And he dares to complain of pains in the morning!
"Why don't you sit?" I shove him backwards and on the furniture. He stares up at me, puzzle.
"I like this." And he slants his chin below my chest.
I brush his hair out his forehead, and I'm so tempted to kiss the skin, of glide across those brows and emerald eyes and nose and uuhh.
"So," I spectacularly succeeded in not clear my throat, if I had done it; I'd expose that I'm as a affected as him, that's the least I want. "What're you doing?" I plunk my hands aloft the table. The way I whisked away disjoined his touch over me, and any attempt.
"I have been studied the routes and sea flows, it's always important not to rendezvous flaws in the voyage." He explains it proudly.
"Yes," I sense his thumb and index playing with the end of one of the braids. I trace my own index over the detailed draws with inclined words above or beside.
"The kids?" he queries.
"Sleeping," I scrape my nail, near him.
There's heaviness in my lower back, knuckles fondling, "With mom?"
"Who else if not?" I raise my brows at him.
"Hey," and presses his thumb in one dimple, Thor; how Hiccup knows where they're located still amazes me. "Sarcasm is mine."
I shrug, "It rubs off." He smiles back.
He sorts some other business, speaking excitedly, with his hand burning through the fabrics. Though his resolving is very well polished, I can't wrap my head in any of the words, and I should, because it's a keyed topic and it'll be irresponsible from me not to pay attention to it. Yet, I want nothing but kiss him; of enhance an ardent so unbearable we both eventually crack. So I pretend I hear him, I come up with an act of innocent so convincing he'll not reckon my fingers untethering the cords of my robe. I "yes" and "oh" at every dart of his, nodding when it's appropriate.
Inch by inch, the robe slides, revealing my shoulders and my elbows and wrists, "You mind…" I excuse myself. And it's when Hiccup appreciates the bareness of my upper limbs. Struck by centimeters of whitish skin, he says it's creamy under sunlight and pink the bits he —and no one else— familiarizes with very well.
"Have I ever told you how your beauty exceeds Freya and every female God?" He blurts out.
My eyes widen at his occurrence, I shushed him, "Hiccup!"
"The supposed reply is 'Thank you, my love. You look like Odin itself.'"
I smack him straight in the temple, rolling my eyes. But can't help giggling, "Odin, help me."
"What was that? Odin, kiss me? Well, I can't keep a beautiful shield-maiden waiting, or perhaps Valkyrie."
"Ugh, stop! You're being sappy!" My laughs hardly stopped.
His eyes are trained in my breasts. That ends all sound, his eyes bore through the nightgown, the see-through cerulean. "Do I have something on me, babe?" I ask lowly.
Hiccup twist my right hand in his and kisses the inside, leisurely, he ascends. His teeth scrape along my inner arm, my veins pulse beneath his thin lips. My blood flows wildly. When his beard brooms my sensitive skin, it evokes a shiver running down my spine and earnest pulsing.
"You want more mead?" I ask stupidly.
He shakes his head, oh gods, he's panting.
He pulls me down and seeks for my mouth, but I don't want to, yet. "Mead," I suddenly push him away, raking my tankard until it's ahead him. Hiccup glances up at me as if I committed the viciousness of the betrayals.
I expected a defiance movement, but instead, he lifts the tankard and affably said; "Mead." Before the rim is even touching the table he leaps at me, I teeter on my spot, evading his snake-like arms. I feel exhilarate.
"Chief," I shoot, knowing well the effect. "I have invited you a drink," I pop the k. "You seem thirsty, you sure you'll reject it?" My thighs feel slick.
"You win," the words roll out strangely off his tongue. He's not retreating, I'm not a fool. Meanwhile, Hiccup draughts the tankard clean.
"Wiped off," I signal his commissures.
He rose on his feet, the two mugs in hand, "Water or mead?"
I shake my head, "I'll refill it."
"Water or mead?" He questions again.
"I say I'd do it," I scowl.
"Then I will choose," he whispers in my shell, dragging his lightly touch down my neck. I want him so bad, so bad I ache. It's the clatter of the mug in the floor that startles us; his left hand had travel near my ribs.
"Go," I plant a kiss in his cheekbone. He tries vainly to swipe his head so instead it'd lands on his mouth.
He picks the mug and saunters towards the barrels. I took the opportunity to recompose myself. I am no good at seduction, at this game of cat and mouse. In fact, I came without game, but I'm quickly structuring one. Luckily, is not complicate to perceive when we're toying.
"Babe," I call.
"Yes, m 'lady." He spun, flashing me a grin.
"Blueprints," he rolls his hand as if indicating further explanation. "Remember those blueprints of that hut in the hillock you wished in build. That meant for us…"
His eyes lit up, "Yes! They were in a pile, I think underneath the project of the ship themed of T—"
And we both go silent. Fresh wounds will always be fresh wounds.
"C'mere," I beckon Hiccup. I withdraw the drinks and carefully ram him on the chair again. I reap a gaily chat, "Zephyr continues to ignore our rebukes, about her trotting barefoot around."
"Hm, then we must've to be stricter."
I nod, "And she has her ears more open to you."
"To you too," he retorts.
I ignore it, "I sent to her asleep." He nods. "And then I put on this," I pull the sides of my nightgown.
"You were going to bed and now no?" he says while he rubs my hip.
"Yes," I pause, hiking the skirt above my calf, "But not in the bed."
"I should pile pillows then, because the floor is not that comfortable."
I bite my lip at his awful quip, "Another task for the overwhelmed chief."
"Mmm," he agrees between gulps of mead. I witness the cords of muscles in his neck stirring. Fuck, can't help myself. I sow a hickey in the base of his throat, before purposely knocking one pencil to the floor.
"I'll pick it up." I circle de table gathering the little tool, "Tell me how far you've gone in your investigation." Even if I don't see him, I know I left him flabbergast, if the stutter in his voice tells anything.
He continues rambles on, when I left the pencil on top one of his journal, with a sprinkle of strain holding back his occasionally high-pitched sentences. It's when I decidedly know it has been enough, I can't possibly desist anymore. When I stagger in front of him and took the last swig of mead, my mind has rushed, my womb flustering. "Babe."
"Any last words?" He'd read my mind.
I shake my head and scoop a handful of fabric, letting him glimpse little by little each of my legs. "Only that you touch me," I say bluntly. The skirt is above my hips, my knees are glued and hence the junction is pressed hard. I'm shaking like a flag in a mast of a ship sailing.
He inclines forward, holding my gaze, "You sure? We don't have to do anything."
I snort, "I wouldn't let us do anything we don't want, and you know that."
He nods, and then ducks downward my quivering thighs, his hand gripping the back of my knees, preventing me from jumping out of reach when he starts worshiping. I sigh at the humidity of his lips and tongue, luscious and intoxicating. He kisses as his life'd depend of it, as if his existence wouldn't have a meaning if he doesn't perform it. He's so near I can feel his breath damping me further than I am are. My fingers instinctively tangle with his reddish locks.
"Underwear is really an inconvenience." It come muffle, but I reach to hear it.
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"So, what are you gonna do about it?" My eyes have darkened in anticipation; Hiccup's emeralds have glimmered by a respond he'll no deliver in a sound but in an action.
He hoists his hand to my ass and kneads each cheek, and I'm whimpering when he stuck his fingers under the underwear's strips, intentions very clear. "You stay still," he says against my navel, giving the skin beneath a little nip.
"Uuhh," I'm free of anything clothing my groin, except his mouth that had covered me without wasting a second.
"Fucking good," he groans and I moan in return. His tongue flickers between the folds, parting them, tasting what's the source of so much sogginess. My sight blurs at what only can record as piercing pleasure, while my hips rut against him, silently pleading for more when my hungry core sees is not enough. I'm falling in account of my hands bracketing his nape and tugging, scratching his hair. He shifts moves; open-kisses, licking everywhere. He even sporadically deposits love bites where my pelvis. I brace him as best as I can stand, whether physically and with my love, dripping from my heart and down there, such loving husband sinking himself in me; collecting what I give him. "Hiccup!" I shriek when he finally dares to meet up with my tiny bundle. And I lost myself when he gropes it between his lips and suckles it.
He nurtures me, tortures me. Panting, I'm shoving him, even when his hands were seizing my hips so tight. He frowns worried, "Are you okay?" He scrambles to his feet, cupping the sides of my head. Gods, I love him. "Did I hurt you?"
I can only manage to shake my head. Overwhelmed by these feelings that'd never vanished and I hope won't any time soon, these feeling distending my heart.
"I thought I hurt you, that I went too rough." He smells of me, up so near. I realize I haven't kissed him, yet.
"You would never."
And I kiss him. I kiss him with that same enthusiasm he had down me. Hiccup's lips follow my own accord and I savor myself in his teeth and tongue and gums. It draws me out a moan he adores. And I'm encouraged to pull from the threads of my dress.
"Wait."
No, he won't ask me if I'm sure, because I'm fucking sure of what I want! "Fuck, Hiccup! Dare to ask it."
He winces and his face blanches. Knowing well my reproach came too harsh; I grab his head like he's doing it with mine and kiss away his apprehension. "Love me," I say when we have to grudgingly separate.
"I do."
"You know what I'm referring to." And it's perfect timing that my nightgown fell around my waist.
"N-no bindings?" He asks meek.
I force back a shudder, feeling the hotness of the furious flush of my cheeks. "Sit, please?" He obeys, and I promptly straddle him. I peck his mouth before giving him a nod. And while he's sucking bruises, licking and smearing kisses, I'm wrestling with his damned outfit.
"Ugh! You use too much clothes! Why you've to use that much clothes?" It's a futile exigency, but my annoyance doesn't go anywhere.
He chuckles, even when he has one nipple in his mouth. "Sorry?"
"You better are." I unclasp a myriad of buckles and peel off layers of leather and fabric, when I finally find that freckle, slim skin. But I couldn't concentrate that much; a particular bite of his in my collarbone —and one calloused fingertip pressing on me— reels me off my task.
"Thank you, m 'lady. Let me help you from here," Hiccup says softly with a shadow of smugness. He sheds my nightgown and I'm left completely, and utterly bare in front of him. Both our naked chests were heaving, our hearts beating madly. "You don't need my verdict. But I won't bite my tongue in repeating you how beautiful you are."
I smile fondly, "Babe, you are beautiful, too. And never in the nine worlds will I regret choosing you." We kiss again, with notches of heat, with minds dazed and southern parts throbbing desperately. As desperate and enthralled we are for a contact of relieve. His hands had lost control way longer before, he massages and tugs and squeezes. I'm gentler and settle; propping my weight in his shoulders while I'm rocking back and forth his glorious stiffness, tucked inside the trousers.
"Turn around," he whispers and I choke. I did what he told, quivering. He shifts us, in a way I end up with my legs spread and over his. I hear a rustle underneath me; his fingers were unfastening the one last barrier between his hot length and my pliable flesh. "Love you," he grunts, stroking me. I tried to reply him; I tried so much, oh Freya! But his head grazed me, and I lost it.
"Astrid!" I heard Hiccup yelp stupefy, somewhere in my spiraling haziness.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" I sob.
He took my jaw and we share a supple kiss sideways. "Wow," he grins, with the same mesmerizing tone.
"Oh gods, that was so intense," I blink back my sight. I'm hit it with a memory of months ago, when we were eating us mutually and has happened the same when we were about to fuck.
"You okay though?" he's madly aroused, but he's concerned, too.
I nod, "Tightly wound," I cackle, and just when I had taken the last calming breaths, I'm already aroused again. He rubs my thighs until I'm feeling less sprained, and then he's aligning himself with me.
"Astrid, I'll understand if—"
"Hiccup! That was a yes!" I shut him up. He inhales deep, holding himself back of any primal thought. Though, the darkening of his emeralds chimes his intentions.
I dwell on the thought of climbing the table and let him take me shamelessly, but it closes off as soon I feel the lightly pressure of his hand wrapped around my throat. He manhandles my hips —and we moan longingly when he's finally, finally within me and I shrouding him.
"I love your cock!" I gasp. Uuugghhh, no, I didn't say that!
Too late, his laughs reverberate through his chest, "No shyness tonight, m'lady."
"You know why I came here?" I cut him suddenly, starting to undulate my hips. "Not only because I can, not only because you're my husband. I came because I love you. Wherever you have been, I'd go, and is not a chasing after you. It's a promise that you have me everywhere where you can reach, and I'm including Valhalla, babe." I cooed him. I breathe better, grinding back and forth, back and forth.
"I love you," his fingers that'd been pampering my little clit trek to my breasts; toying with them mercilessly. He thrust steady, but frantically, crying out between my neck and jaw. Flooding me with his burning heat, so thick, so good, nothing should be this good, and yet, I'm being proved that I can still touch the sky.
I bit my lip again, once he begun bouncing me up and down, sucking air sharply. "I love you too."
He's, too, engulfed in a pleasure beyond bearable, when our lids are mid-open that we barely visualize the emptiness of the Great Hall. When our breaths are mere gasps and panting blending in one sound described as arduous sex.
"Ah! Ah!" It takes time to recognize those breathy, thrilling noises were mine; produced by nobody but me.
"Come on, Astrid!" he yells excitedly, not insisting me, in the contrary, he's supportive. He does this often, and I'm vaguely regretting not giving him head, as it's when I hear him squeaking him the most. I squeeze him in respond, moaning throatily.
I stretch my arms, bolstering over the table. "G-go on!" There's a newly-found angle with me bend by the hips and spine bowed, and my body screams. "Yes!" With a last mangle of his name in my yowling, I recharge my head upon my limbs, screwing my eyes shut and letting blazes of white pleasure consumes me for the second time.
And then Hiccup splatters hotly in me, finishing with a grunt that perforates my eardrums. When he's spent, he rests his forehead on my back, and takes the opportunity to kiss some protruding vertebras.
"S-so, uh, you liked it?"
Even with my lids shutter, I roll my eyes. "Hiccup?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
We stay quiet and lull for a few minutes, enjoying our closeness, but also coming to ourselves. His spill runs down my thighs, but I can't care of it right now, when he keeps inside of me.
"You're staying to sleep?" he breaks the calmness.
"Hm, I don't know."
"I can arrange pillows from the back room, I wasn't fully kidding." There's a child-like, hopeful timbre in his voice. Hiccup gets in this mood always we finished fucking.
"I could sleep in your arms," I suggest, swaying teasingly on his lap.
"Ow!" He holds my waist, "only if you don't do that, please."
And whilst I smirk laying down on his torso, Hiccup kisses my cheek lovingly, wishing me good dreams.