AN: Um, remember that M rating? Yeah, so... WARNING: sexual content below.

She was twenty and he was twenty. She could taste the honeyed mead on his lips and tongue when he kissed her. Astrid wasn't sure if there could be anything more blissful and perfect than this moment. The whole day had been building, building to this moment; from the moment she woke up and was bathed in preparation; to the ceremony in the town centre, for all of Berk to see; the feasting, the dancing, the stories – all of it leading to the moment that he removed the bridal crown from her head, here in the bedroom where they would consummate their marriage. Here, to this moment when he was kissing her with sweet lips and an even sweeter tongue.

The witnesses had left them, having only needed to see the crown removed and not the consummation. Valka had told her that many, many years ago, their ancestors had insisted on actually witnessing consummation. That thought had bothered her, but not because she was embarrassed or bashful. It was because she didn't want to share Hiccup with anyone. Not tonight. Tonight he was hers and hers alone. Yes, they would have their entire lives together. Yes, they would make love often (if she had anything to say about it). Yes to all of this. But tonight – tonight was special. Tonight was just the beginning.

Astrid whimpered a little when he broke the kiss. Undignified, she knew, but gods did she want him touching her. Anywhere. Everywhere. Her wide eyes watched him as a relaxed grin split his face. He started dropping his clothes to the floor – the wool tunic, his linen shirt, his pants. Astrid drank him in – the curves and definition of lean muscle beneath soft skin; the scars of battles won and lost, with men, with dragons, with himself.

A smile played on her lips as she shrugged off the furs around her shoulders. This wasn't the first time they'd seen each other. It wasn't the first time for anything, but there was something electric in the air tonight, something magical. Maybe it was just the mead coursing through her body. Maybe it was that they were married, finally. But for one charged minute, he watched her with wide green eyes that skimmed over her pale skin in the firelight. His gaze lingered on curves, lips parted in anticipation. He wanted her as much as she wanted him and there was something empowering in that knowledge.

Astrid couldn't take waiting – she never really could abide by it – so she decided to expedite the process by stretching languorously, her arms above her head, her back arched enticingly, her legs outstretched. It had the desired effect because Hiccup couldn't stay away then – he couldn't stand at the foot of the bed and just watch her. She hadn't expected his approach to happen the way it did – she hadn't expected him to start at the foot of the bed, pressing searing kisses along the top of her feet, her calves, her thighs as he crawled toward her. Her breath hitched when he pressed kisses along her inner thighs, his fingers sliding, sliding, sliding up her leg with torturous delicacy. He kissed her hipbones and her lower belly, tiny hot kisses that made her writhe and moan under this touch. She was distracted with those kisses when he slid a finger inside her and then out again; her back arched and she knotted her fingers in his hair. She could feel him smile against her skin and silently plotted out a revenge that she would never take. If this was a battlefield, she'd have him at her mercy. But this was not a battlefield and she was completely at his mercy – his delicious, maddening mercy.

His kisses moved upward, but his fingers stayed where they were between her thighs, teasing, touching, drawing her out. Astrid let out a noise of coiled frustration and Hiccup responded by sliding not one, but two fingers inside her while drawing his tongue along her skin from her navel to her breasts. Astrid bucked against him, crying out in surprise and pleasure. Hiccup was unruffled, tracing those small, hot kisses along her breasts, his tongue circling her nipples, sucking, teasing, and gently biting until she felt she could take no more. She called out his name, barely noticing how desperate she sounded, how pleading.

Hiccup pulled his fingers from her, tracing hot, wet lines along the curves of her body with them. He caught both her arms in his hands and pinned her wrists above her head. Their eyes met and she could see everything he wasn't saying in them, things he couldn't say, wouldn't say, things he did say and had said – he told her that he loved her, that she was precious to him, that he was happy and in wonder and awe and amazement – he told her all this with his brilliant green eyes that were nearly black with desire. This was the beginning, those eyes said, only the beginning of their adventure together. His eyes fell to her lips and he leaned in to kiss her, slowly, thoroughly, as though she were a fine mead that needed long consideration to be enjoyed properly. He made her feel as though there was nothing – nothing – that would ever be as important or special as she was in that very moment.

Hiccup nudged her thighs apart with his knee, the metal of his prosthetic leg shockingly cool against her calf. He settled himself between her thighs, releasing her wrists so he could angle her hips better. She liked the heat of his hands on her skin; she liked the feeling security that his support offered her. He slid into her slowly, his eyes locked on her face watching for any sign of discomfort. He was considerate of her even now, perched above her, and she loved him for it. She ran her hands up his arms, over taut biceps and strong shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, thick, soft hair that still bore the mark of her ministrations in the form of tiny braids. Astrid pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with all the zeal and passion that she had in her. It was her form of encouragement, her permission to him to move, to make love to her.

They found an easy rhythm together, as they always did. Astrid held his body close to hers, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips and her arms tight around his shoulders, her hands in his hair, or sliding down his back, or scraping down his back as they grew closer and closer to that point of absolute ecstasy. They kissed, hard and sloppy and frenzied, the heat of their passion rising to a fever pitch hotter than dragonfire. Astrid surged her body into his, her breasts pressed into his chest, her legs locked around his hips, her muscles seizing with the explosion of release – like a star that had burst from the heavens and rained down stardust and light over everything.

Astrid didn't know how long they laid there waiting for their hearts to calm, Hiccup collapsed on top of her, her fingers gently running through his hair, damp with sweat. She started to hum the tune of an old song unconsciously, one she hadn't thought about in years – a song that made her think of contentment and fulfillment. A song about dreams and the future. Hiccup tightened his arms around her.

"You know," she said, her voice conversational and light, "I think I like this marriage thing."

She could feel Hiccup's smile against her breast. He lifted his head and gave her a half-smile, his eyes roguish. "Want to do it again?"

Astrid's grin was quick to stretch across her face. "We probably should, you know, just to be sure it's consummated."

"Just in case," Hiccup said, grinning.

She could taste the honeyed mead on his lips and tongue when he kissed her…