Eret registers the cool draft seeping in from the cracks of the window when he awakes. Chilly, iced wind pricks his exposed skin, racking his body with shivers. The only thing keeping him warm is the thin body lying next to him. Eret bustles, looks outside the window, and sure enough, a wild furry of snowflakes twist, turn and dance across the sky. The first snowfall isn't a gentle coating of white, fresh blankets piling the soil; it's a tumultuous storm. Ushering the heavy flakes of ice and snow is a fierce, howling wind.

Groaning, not wanting to part himself from Hiccup's warm body, Eret folds his arms around the young lad and buries his face in the crook of his freckled neck. Hiccup is curled up, his back snug against Eret's front. He watches the smaller form rise and fall with each breath.

Falling back asleep was Eret's initial plan but he jolts upright when his bedroom door swings wide open.

"Astrid!" Eret shrieks, an octave higher than he thought was physically possible. This outburst, of course, startles Hiccup awake and he too, yelps, "Astrid!" while scrambling for his clothes—mortified when he realizes they're at least a foot away from him and he's entirely naked.

Eret is thankful that he at least kept his underwear on. He's not shy; he's very comfortable in his own skin, if not bit prideful. He's not sure how Astrid snuck into his home without leaving any trace of a footstep. Stealth was just another one of Astrid's many talents, evidently.

The Viking woman stands in his doorway, her hood still pulled over her head. There are bits of snow on her shoulders and she's shuddering violently from the unforgiving weather.

"H-Hiccup," she announces, through chattering teeth, "Th-the ocean is f-freezing over and there's a s-supply ship s-stuck."

"I'll get dressed and I'll be outside. Give me less than then minutes," Hiccup promises. Flushed, alarmed, and not any less mortified, Hiccup slides off the bed, binding a downy blanket around his waist, embarrassed to expose himself to either party.

"Astrid, how did you know where Hiccup was?"

Hiccup is on his hands and knees, collecting his tunic, boot, and armor.

Astrid says, "I saw you two leave the Great Hall together, hand in hand. It wasn't hard to connect the dots."

"I figured you'd all be too drunk to notice," Hiccup whines.

"You're needed, too, Eret," Astrid commands. "We need all the help we can get. Hurry up! This is an emergency!"

Astrid throws her hands in the air, frustrated, watching the two men stumble and search for their clothing while concurrently trying to avoid indecency.

"Okay, okay," Hiccup panics, reaching for his underwear.

"I'll wait outside," Astrid replies, roughly. There's worry in her voice. Everyone was prepared for the first snowfall but no one could have predicted a freak storm.

The temperature is blistering and the frost bites at any fraction of skin they've left uncovered. Bundled up, from head to toe, Hiccup's crew (as well as Valka,) drive through harsh currents. Whiteout conditions obscure vision but luckily, Toothless can travel while relying on sound. Plasmid fuel bursts from the Night Fury's throat and each blast reverberates, specifying the route he must take. The others—Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, the twins, and Valka—follow Hiccup's lead, mimicking the makeshift course.

"I can see the ship!" Hiccup hollers, descending from great heights. He waves for the team to approach the vessel.

Eret sucks in a sharp breathe as he and Skullcrusher lower themselves from the fog, edging closer towards the water. Berk's riders are bestowed with a dreadful sight; the vessel is trapped, surrounded by sheets of ice. As they increase their proximity, Eret notices that there are at least four members aboard, though they're covered in furs. Their identities are unreadable and the only signs of life are desperately flailing arms.

Scorching flecks of ice pelt angrily against Eret's cheeks. They dive lower until they circle the ship's mast, meters above. Hail smacks their bodies from every angle, and the forceful wind provides a turbulence that makes it nearly impossible for the dragons to hover properly. Skullcrusher is knocked off balance every so often and not even his powerful wings can help him maintain equilibrium. Eret clutches to his dragon and every time they're pushed and shoved askew by the forceful streams of air, he prays he doesn't slip and fall.

"We're here to help you!" Hiccup bellows, hands cupped around his mouth, hoping this will allow his voice to reach them over the sound of the screeching, Nordic winds.

"What's your plan?" Eret asks. "Are any of the supplies salvageable?"

Hiccup proclaims, "We're going to save the crew first then we'll get to the supplies."

"Hiccup, there's not enough time to rescue both," Valka opposes, her voice hollow and fraught. "The storm is much worse than we thought it'd be. I don't think anyone can last much longer in this cold."

"Valka's right," Astrid says. "We need to make this as quick as possible. There's no way we'll have time to carry any of provisions and our dragons are struggling enough as it is."

Hiccup tenses and though most of him is concealed, Eret can see his shoulders scrunch upright, his hands furling and tightening their grip on the Night Fury's neck. Every fiber of Hiccup's being is telling him to object and Eret knows this. Nothing frightens a chief more than a village with no food, no water, and no furs or pelts.

"Okay," Hiccup agrees, forsaken with surrender. "We can't just leave them here."

Thankfully, there are four people and eight riders, which leaves more than enough room. Hiccup directs Valka, Astrid, and Eret to join him and jump on the deck, while the others watch them closely, protect them, and provide a net of safety in case something goes wrong.

And Eret really, really, hopes nothing goes wrong. Their dragons fluttering above; they can't risk testing the amount of weight this ship can hold and Skullcrusher is exceptionally massive.

"Come with us," Hiccup speaks to them, gently, yet firmly, extending his palm.

The four traders gawk at him with fearful eyes. "C'est un monstre!" a woman's voice cries, pointing to the dragons rotating from afar.

"These traders are foreign," Hiccup says, turning to his mother, hopelessly. "They don't know about domesticated dragons."

But Eret recognizes the language. In fact, he recalls it quite well, once his panic subsides. He's done his fair share of travel and he's no linguistics expert but he can spot a familiar tongue.

"Hiccup, they're French. I can talk to them, I know French!"

"Oh, thank you, Eret," Hiccup wails in relief. "Thank you."

"Je suis là pour vous aider," Eret proffers, raising his arms in surrender. The merchants look to one another and nod. Despite their apprehension, it would be unwise to stay in this blizzard any longer, so they clamber for a ride back to safety.

Valka, Astrid and Hiccup escort the three men, encouraging them to climb aboard. The woman steps carefully for Eret and his Rumplehorn, only to slip on a patch of ice stretched among the ship's planks.

She cries out, toppling overboard, sliding across the layers of ice, whimpering as she gathers herself at last, on her hands and knees.

"Eret, wait!" Hiccup shouts, but it's too late. Eret mimics her fall, easing himself onto the glacial sheets. Stress begins to unfold; the ice can't hold the burden of her limbs. In retrospect, Eret's plan was careless and not at all well conceived. He leaps towards her, pushing her out of the way. Her weight is replaced with Eret's weight, which is far heavier.

Ice crackles from immense pressure. It all happened so quickly, Eret doesn't have time to register his foot slipping into the artic sea. Piece by piece, fractures of ice give in, break apart, and form a gap large enough to swallow his body whole.

The sub-zero water is an armada of tiny pins and needles, piercing his body, stabbing, prickling his skin, and sucking the air from his lungs. Eret is a thrashing, wounded animal, fighting to thrust his head above the surface. He claws at the borders of ice but every time he tries to pull himself up, the current of the ocean drags him back under. Fighting back against the tides of the sea is a fruitless endeavor. Eret isn't stronger than the ocean's natural, rhythmic currents.

Eret's body is numbed and weakened by the freezing water. Eventually, the strength to propel towards land ebbs away and he's unsure if his friends are screaming for him. Is he imagining their cries? Is it even possible to distinguish those sounds over the howling skies, the water rushing and pounding in his ears, like a blood rushing through veins?

His movements become sluggish and Eret, losing the ability to think rationally—almost forgetting he's underwater—opens his mouth and gulps in handfuls of seawater. Choking, suffocating, his surroundings dampen and darken. The salt from the ocean throbs and pricks at his eyes, so he closes them.

Eret recalls his mother. He left his mother when he was nineteen, to sail across Europe, searching for illicit treasures, and then, gradually ,joining business of dragon trapping. She was so ashamed. It's not what Eret, his father, would have wanted, she scolded, the night before Eret set out for his latest destination. He should have never left her. He should have turned back one last time to see his mother's face. They have not spoken since. Would she ever find out about the death of her estranged son?

A shriek—one that can belong to a Rumplehorn—rings so loudly, it breaks the barrier of the storm's wails and moans. Eret cannot see, but he can feel Skullcrusher's rugged proboscis probe and jostle his sinking weight.

Two hands pound at Eret's chest. Warm lips press against his and his head is suddenly lifted up, throat barred. Snapping his eyes open still requires energy that the cold has robbed from him. He coughs up water, sputters, and air fills his battered lungs.

Voices fill his head. He's sure they must be real, just as real as the arms holding him securely. Faint words drift in and out of focus. Eret tries to concentrate on what he suspects is Hiccup's voice but simpler dreams sustain most of his attention.

"Please," is all he can make out while confined to his muddled stupor. "Please," and "Stay with me."

Eret envisions heat; no longer is he trapped in the eye of a storm. He relaxes peacefully, in a bed of tall grass. Sunlight beams down on him and across the field, rabbits dig into the earth's soil. They're creating a new home for their families.

They burrow, huddle together, at night to stay warm. Soft, sweet, floppy eared rabbits snuggling against one another, heat radiating from their silky fur. Eret's body sinks slowly into the soil. The terrain is protecting him, offering him a new home too. He can be warm, full, and be free from hardship.

Floorboards creak sinisterly under Eret's anxious, pacing feet. He's in the captain's quarters. It's nothing short of exquisite; a bed, a desk, where the captain's log is stored, and a small boudoir.

"You wanted to see me?" Eret asks, carefully, ensuring that there is no waver in his voice. He isn't as strong as he thinks he could be, but he can't let it show. No one is as strong as they think they are in the eyes of Drago Bludvist.

Drago sits at his desk, hands folded neatly in his lap. He remains relatively composed, which is more frightening than witnessing Drago at his most vindictive. Eret knows what to expect during Drago's blood thirsty tantrums. What he cannot fathom is what Drago is capable of at his most calculated, poised, and thoughtful candor.

"Do you know why I chose you, Eret son of Eret?"

"Yes, sir," Eret recites. "Because I'm willing to go to great lengths to supply you with whatever it is you ask of me."

Drago doesn't laugh like a normal, rational person does. There's never been any tenderness in Drago's laughter, no, that was not within the realms of possibilities. The same day Drago Bludvist bore a portion of mercy was the same day that Ragnarök commenced.

Drago chuckles, uncaringly, rising from his seat. A wide, tall, barrel-chested husk of a man creeps towards him until Eret can count every dreadlock, every pore, and every scar etched into his skin, if for some bizarre reason, he wanted to, he could.

"Don't be modest, boy."

"Sorry."

Eret swallows hard. Drago follows the movements of Eret's throat, fixating on the way it trembles and shakes when he gulps. He's pleased to see his presence has instilled such fear, the tiny, curl tugging at the corner of his lips tells him this.

"I chose you because I've roamed the continents, searching for the best dragon trapper fit to serve me. You promised me an army."

Eret nods, averting his gaze when Drago leans in to draw their faces close together, too close for Eret's comfort; a sign of supremacy. Eret is meant to feel ranks below the madman. When Drago breathes, Eret smells his breath: it reeks of curdled milk and fish.

"So then, why have you returned empty handed?"

Eret clears his throat and says, "If you'll allow me to explain—"

"You know I don't like long winded explanations."

"Drago, we had to abandon the ship. You've seen the storms brewing from the north. Our vessel was capsizing. I had to release the dragons in order to lighten the load, and save my crew from drowning."

"So you chose your crew."

"Yes."

Drago scoffs and grins, deceitfully, jeering, "You have too much faith in people."

"Drago, without a crew, I can't deliver."

"You could've gotten a new one."

"Drago—that's not—they're good men and they have families to feed."

But it's useless. Drago doesn't care, why would he? How could he? Eret reels backwards when Drago withdraws a knife from the straps encircling his waist, underneath his tunic. He runs a finger along the knife's blade and bares his teeth.

"Allow me to help rid you of this empathy you've been burdened with."

The edge of the blade slivers down his chest, slowly, before pressing down to slice open susceptible flesh.

Awaking from his nightmare, Eret finds himself drenched in sweat. He hoists himself up but it knocks the wind out of him, so he falls back down. Every inch of his being feels weak, lifeless, and his limbs are heavy piles of bricks that refuse to budge. Eret groans, in despair. The snout of a dragon prods his side.

Eret spins, legs tangled in crinkled bed sheets, facing his companion; the last thing he saw before losing consciousness.

"Skullcrusher," he greets, hoarsely. "Friend, oh, I'm so glad to see you."

The gentle giant expresses his concern by warbling softly, coating Eret's face with wet licks. Too weary to laugh, Eret settles on bidding his dragon a faint grin.

"You saved me, boy," Eret notes, aloud. "You pulled me from the water."

There's a scuffle of frantic footsteps and then his bedroom door bursts open. It's Astrid, carrying a tray that includes a bowl of soup and a mug of tea.

"Eret!" Astrid squeals. "I heard you from the other room. You're awake!"

The blonde pauses her excitement to place the tray on his nightstand, thus resuming her glee by flinging herself on top of him, throwing her arms around him.

"Astrid," Eret laughs, weakly, "What a lovely sight for these sore eyes."

Astrid squeezes him and apologizes profusely when her snakelike grip crushes his lungs.

"Eret, we didn't think you'd make it at first," she says with watery eyes. "You were trapped and we all rushed to pull you out but Skullcrusher dived in and caught you by the collar and…he brought you to us."

Sniffling, Astrid continues, "We were so scared we had lost you. Hookfang used his body heat to warm you up and if it weren't for Snotlout, you would have frozen to death."

Eret raises a shaky hand to pat the back of her head. Finally regaining her composure, Astrid parts from their embrace and says, "I'm just so glad you're safe, Eret. I bought you some tea. Valka said it's supposed to fight off any nasty colds of fevers you might be vulnerable to. It will make you really drowsy, just a fair warning."

She brings the warm cup to his lips and he sips the mixture of herbs, coughing violently from the liquid's bitter taste. Astrid smiles, sheepishly, and explains, "Sorry. It's not supposed to be tasty. The soup will help wash it down."

"Where's Hiccup? Are the others alright?"

"Everyone is fine," Astrid consoles. "Hiccup was in here, earlier, while you were still asleep. He seemed upset—don't tell him I said that. Right now, he and Valka are finding a place for the merchants to stay. They'll leave as soon as the storm subsides."

"Is the woman alright? The woman I helped?"

"She's doing well. I think her name is Mirabelle? I can't understand what they were saying but the others kept referring to her as 'Mirabelle'"

Eret sighs, flooded with waves of relief. Astrid keeps him company until the effects of the tea kick in and he falls into a state of serene unconsciousness.

After another undisturbed slumber, Eret wakes to a new set of voices. Astrid is gone. Hiccup and Valka take her place, watching over him. The tea has rendered him hazed and lethargic. Eret's eyelids are heavy and immovable so he decides it's best to try falling asleep again.

It doesn't feel right to overhear the conversation Hiccup and his mother are having; its unintentional eavesdropping. He can't do much to object with such little energy, however, so he lies in his nest of warm blankets, grateful to at least hear Hiccup's voice.

"It's my fault," Hiccup chokes. He is seated on a stool next to Eret's bed. A thin hand rests on Eret's thigh, protectively.

"Hiccup," Valka sighs, "There's nothing you could have done. No man can overcome nature's fury."

"I should have stopped him from following that woman. There could have been a safer way to rescue her."

"Surely, you know how foolish that sounds."

"How?"

"You would have done the same as him."

"I guess you're right."

A long, pensive silence perseveres.

"You care for him," Valka remarks, quietly.

"Mom, no, it's not like that—"

"I was there, Hiccup. I saw the way you cradled him in your arms. I can see how you look at him now, as he rests."

"Mom, please…."

"Are you ashamed to fall for him? Please don't think—it's not wrong that you're both men—"

"That's never…bothered me. Berk doesn't turn people away for something like that. I've heard that some lands do."

"Then why are you so afraid, son?"

"I don't know if it's what dad would've wanted."

Eret follows the trail of Valka's steps. She moves to join her son. He hears her exhale slowly.

"You've known your father for twenty years. He would've loved you all the same, just as he loves Goebber."

The grip on his thigh tightens. He can hear the falter in Hiccup's voice. Valka does, too, so she places a tender kiss on her son's forehead.

"It's not that. I want to honor him, for everything he's done for us. I just hope he would've approved of Eret."

"I'm sure he would, had he gotten the chance to bond with him. Eret is a noble lad. Handsome, too."

"Mom!"

Valka snickers at her son's flustered outburst.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm really sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I've been a jerk to you, lately."

"I know, Hiccup. I'm sorry, too."

She leaves, though Eret can't approximate when because he's drifting in and out of sleep. When it's just the two left, Hiccup climbs atop Eret's build, huddling close.

Eret isn't sure how much time has passed but he stirs, rubs his eyes, and accounts the gangly build cover his. Hiccup had either forgetent to wake himself or he had planned on spending the night with Eret. With any luck, it's the latter.

"Good morning," Eret says, brushing a lock of hair from the young man's face.

Hiccup rouses, shifting angles so their stomachs align.

"Hi there," Hiccup murmurs. His hair is an absolute mess, his eyes droopy and weary. "What you did was incredibly stupid."

"I know."

"Brave but stupid and if I berate you some more that'll make me a hypocrite. I would've done the same."

"It wouldn't be the first time I went out of my way to help a stranger. But more importantly, what will you do? Without the supplies?"

Hiccup's brows furrow in absorption and he says, "I have a plan B. I didn't want to have to resort to it. Do you know about Outcast Island?"

"No, I've just barely familiarized myself with Berk,"

"Well, I have, er, not friend per say, but an ally. He's changed, over time; he used to be Berk's enemy. I hate asking for help—"

"A little bit of assistance won't kill you."

"I know, I just.."

"You just what?"

"I don't know. Maybe my dad would have found away to recover those supplies."

"Hiccup."

Eret takes the lad's face into his hands and bores into brilliant, emerald eyes.

"Look at me. You have done nothing wrong. You had no idea the storm would be as dire as it was. You did what you could with what little time you had. You chose human lives above all an like you said, there are other alternatives."

Hiccup bites his lip his gaze darts elsewhere.

"I was so scared that I had lost you."

"I've survived the rage of a sadistic war lord. A little bit of cold won't rid me from this world."

Hiccup snorts and buries his face into Eret's chest. "This is the second night we've spent together," Hiccup states.

"This one didn't result in undressing you."

"It still can. I'm free until noon. Wait—no. No, I really can't. I mean, I want to! But I have to—"

"Hiccup, I'm just teasing. It's alright."

He laughs, thumbing the side of Hiccup's face, skin rutting pleasantly against fresh stubble. Callous digits map out the cut of his jaw; his pointed chin, eventually brushing past his soft lips. Gods, he was stunning. Absolutely stunning.

"I'm sorry about your suit," Hiccup blurts, unexpectedly, prying Eret away from swooning like a lovesick adolescent.

"What?"

"I've been so busy preparing for winter so I haven't had time to work on your suit. I'm sorry."

"No worries. Really. Don't let me hold you up."

Hiccup parts, rolling off the bed, landing miraculously on his feet. The last time Hiccup took a stab at this maneuver, he tripped and fell. Kudos to him.

"I don't want you to work today. Just take it easy."

"Hiccup, I'm feeling a lot better."

"Please, just give it a day."

"Whatever you say, chief."

Ultimately, Eret is refreshed sometime in the afternoon. He abides by Hiccup's commands and enjoys leisurely pursuits: he doesn't fly with Skullcrusher, much to his dragon's disappointment, but he takes the liberty of grooming his companion. The least he can do is pamper his friend after having saved his life.

When dinnertime arrives, Eret is bombarded by a group of nosy young dragon riders, beckoning him to sit with them. He certainly doesn't mind the conversation; it's better than being confined to a bed all day. The merchants greet him before they depart, shake hands, thank him profusely and Mirabelle rushes up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Without her gear and furs, she reveals a youthful face, albeit a weary one. Her hair is the color of smoldering fire.

"Merci, merci merci!" She cries.

"Soyez le bienvenu," Eret wheezes, seeking oxygen.

"The man who nearly froze to death!" Astrid cheers, waving her drink about as Eret sits across from her. "We should make a toast."

"There's no need, really," Eret declines, chewing on a bit of chicken leg. He can't remember the last meal he had.

"Tell us what it was like!" Ruffnut pries, excitedly. "What did freezing to death and drowning feel like?"

Astrid shoots her friend a glare and says, "You don't have to dignify that with a response, Eret."

"But you should," Tuffnut suggests, eagerly. "I had an uncle once who almost died from the cold. Before he was rescued, he said he started taking his clothes off because he felt hot and he started hallucinating about summertime."

"It harrowing. There, I hope that sums it up. I'm luckily Snotlout was there."

Snotlout, who had been silent until now, gapes, startled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, whatever," he mumbles, bashfully. "It's not a big deal."

Astrid stifles her laughter. They continue their feast, a majority of their exchanges remaining uninterrupted until the door to the Great Hall opens and slams shut, and Hiccup comes hobbling onwards.

"Everything alright?" Astrid inquires, noting that the chief was wholly out of breath.

"Yes," Hiccup puffs, bracing himself over the table, hands clutching the wooden surface's edge. "Wait—no. It's not okay."

Hiccup is met with an array of quizzical expressions, form each and every member of his team. Astrid's eyebrow arcs as she opens her mouth to speak, promptly shutting it. They've been acquainted since childhood and he's sure there are some things Astrid prefers not to know.

"Eret—"

"Yes?" Eret pipes up.

"I need your help. With important….things. I need your assistance. With—er—at the smithy. It's urgent. Urgent Chief—thing—Chief emergency."

Eret sets aside his utensils and joins Hiccup outside, giving Astrid a simple shrug. Neither men see her roll her eyes as they depart.

"What was so important that you took me away from my dinner?" Eret complains.

Eret lurches forward when Hiccup grabs his forearm and they sprint to the side of the building. It's empty, ducked far away into a tightly knit corner; a cluster of snow dusted trees and shrubbery shields them

"Hiccup," Eret begins, "what are you—"

Hiccup seizes the older man by his biceps, shoving him against the wall. Eret grunts, taken aback by the forceful blow. His back is not graced with a comforting support, only the structure's wooden exterior.

"Hiccup, for gods sake, what is going o—"

Hiccup mashes their lips together in a bruising, furious kiss. Gasping, Eret kisses him back, hands snaking around the boy's lithe waist.

"Out here?" Eret hisses. "Hiccup, there are people inside."

"Eret, I almost lost you. You're here and you're safe and you're alive. I want your hands all over me. I want you to touch me and kiss me and hold me. Please."

Hiccup takes Eret hand and gently guides it down to groin, beckoning him to cup his growing arousal.

Eret buries his nose in auburn hair: he isn't sure what it smells like this time but it's tinged with sweat and a musk that's intoxicating, that sends a violent shudder down his backside.

"I didn't think you were that dirty," Eret teases, exhaling into soft tresses.

"I'm not dirty!" Hiccup halts, lowering his voice, whispering, "I'm not dirty. I just thought you'd like this, maybe. I don't know. I'm not a mind reader. I know you're experienced—"

Hiccup gasps when Eret pinches his bottom. "Ow," he snarls. "That hurt."

Eret chuckles, soothing hands cupping Hiccup's rear. Hiccup squirms into his the firm grip.

"You do it on purpose. No one walks around sleeveless in this weather. You just want to show off your muscular arms because you know how irresistible they are. Sometimes I don't think you're aware of how attractive you are."

"Oh, I'm aware."

"Come on," Hiccup urges. "Let's go some place warmer."

Clutching Eret's hand, Hiccup scurries to the forge, which, fortunately, isn't located too far. Hiccup tumbles through the entrance, slamming Eret into a stack of hay. Hiccup climbs atop him, frantically. There's no fire lit in the room, only the sweltering heat that sizzles and crackles when uncovered skin is tickled with hot breath and shaky digits.

The slim body is unrecognizably swift; a thrashing frolicsome entity that couldn't belong to Hiccup's untested nature.

"You're gorgeous," Hiccup exhales, his breath ghosting over Eret's collarbones. "So handsome. I'm sorry; I know I've said it so many times. I'm not sure what you're expecting. I'm not a poet or anything."

Eret hastily yanks his shirt off, snatching Hiccup's hands so they lay flat against Eret's chest. Sudden momentum bends Hiccup forward and he is perched enticingly, straddling Eret's thighs, back arched, hair tousled.

"There's no need to sweet talk me," Eret chortles.

"You didn't seem to mind it last time."

"Mmm, you're not wrong."

Deep sighs ooze from Eret's throat as Hiccup explores the contours of Eret's profile. Hiccup smiles, stupidly, fingers scraping along scarred flesh. He lifts his nose triumphantly when he brushes over receptive nipples, twirling them in a counterclockwise motion.

"You're going to kill me," Eret growls.

"You say that every time," Hiccup says. "You're just bluffing. It doesn't give me much incentive, to be perfectly honest."

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it."

"I want to make you feel good. Can I?"

"Yes," Eret weeps, as Hiccup kisses down his navel, peeling his pants away, until the fabric no longer constricted results of his desire. Searing, tingling heat puddles in his abdomen when Hiccup slides onto the ground, kneeling before him.

"You don't need to do that," Eret instructs, propping himself on his elbows, trousers pooled around his ankles. "Really, don't do anything you're not comfortable with—holy-Hiccup—oh my—."

Wasting absolutely no time, Hiccup licks a long stripe along the pulsating erection. "Can you tell me what I should do?"

"Hiccup —I—w-well, why don't you try, ah, sucking at the head. J-just like that, yes."

Hesitant lips suckle at the head of Eret's cock while free hands stroke and fondle whatever is untouched by his mouth. Eret teaches him how he likes to be pleased with lips and tongue, instructing him through quaking breathes, mumbled requests. Not much of his length fits in Hiccup's inexperienced throat but the lad takes what he can, savoring the bits of sensitive hardness, tasting and surveying the salty substance dribbling from the slit.

"Remarkable," Eret says, gruffly, running his fingers through reddish-brown locks. "Damn prettiest thing I've ever seen. Your lips look perfect wrapped around my cock."

Hiccup is not accustomed to such filthy praise so it's no surprise when he whimpers around Eret's throbbing organ, using a free hand to rub his own excitement. "Stop," Eret rasps. "Come here."

Not nearly quickly enough, but steadily, nonetheless, Eret soon has Hiccup naked, lying taut against him. Fingers close around their girths, guiding them both into a slick rhythm. Hiccup whines into the slope of Eret's neck, trembling, weak from this unfathomable delight. Lips sear, crush together, as their erections glide in a fixed tandem.

"Gods, Hiccup," Eret moans, breaking the kiss. "You look wonderful when you're on top of me like this."

"Th-thank you," Hiccup says through a dry mouth, hips surging forward to match Eret's thrusts. "I think."

"What I wouldn't give to watch you bounce up and down on my cock."

Hiccup eyes are wide and raw with wonder. He lets out a strangled, wanton sob, eyes fastening shut, mewling, "Wow, that's kind of obscene."

"Was it too much?" Eret queries.

"No, no," Hiccup pants, knees turning to gelatin, nearly collapsing right then. "I might finish too soon if you say things like that, is all."

"That's the idea," Eret snorts. "Go on, keep thinking about it. Picture yourself riding me. Think about filling yourself with my thick cock, hitting you in the right place each and every time."

The grip around their lengths constricts. Lovely features crunching and contorting, Hiccup exudes a prolonged stream of swear words as his orgasm tears through him.

Semen spills, smothering the pair of quivering bellies. After he comes, Eret's laughs. His laughter end up sounding more like giggles, which he knows is silly and childlike but he really can't help himself.

"What?" Hiccup demands. "What's so funny?"

"That's the first time I've ever heard you cuss."

"You look anxious," Eret comments. Hiccup picks the clothes off the ground, fumbling idly, cursing under his breath when he realizes he put his shirt on backwards. Eret halfheartedly reaches over to hoist his pants up his legs.

"I'm just nervous. I'm heading out for Outcast Island first thing tomorrow morning. Alvin and I are on peaceful terms but I'm not sure how well liked I am by the rest of his men."

"What's not to like?"

"Thanks. You think I'm charming but it's not you I need to convince to help feed an entire village."

"You've got a good crew to back you up. I'll put in a good word for you."

"Actually," Hiccup mutters, "About that…"

"What?"

Trepidation slams into him like Thor's hammer, teeth sinking into his bottom lips. Tucking his tunic into his trousers, Hiccup exhales mournfully, staring at Eret with a look that borders on apologetic.

"I need you to stay put for a while. Not for too long, I promise you, but I don't want you flying with Skullcrusher."

Eret laughs, with very little traces of amusement, as he buttons his pants. "Hiccup, I'm not a child. You can't order me around like that."

"It's for your own good. I'm not going to endanger you."

"Excuse me?" Eret snaps, hopping off the stack of hay he'd been laying on, inching to read Hiccup's expression, a difficult feat to accomplish in this unlit hearth.

Hiccup's shoulders sag—he does that gesture he always does when he's irritable, the wringing of his hands—and he explains, peevishly, "You can't just take a few days off? After having a near death experience? Like any normal human being would?"

"We're not normal human beings, we're Vikings. We're a tough bunch."

An irritable cluck of his tongue indicates that Eret's defiance is wearing him down.

"Hiccup, I've healed. All is well. I'm twenty-five years old; I'm capable of taking care of myself. Don't do it for me."

"See, this is why I held off on telling you," Hiccup grumbles, rubbing his temples.

"Hold on a moment, when were you planning on telling me this? Is this some sort of pity shag?"

"What? No, of course not!" Hiccup protests. "What happened just now has nothing to do with that, I just wanted to make you happy."

"Really poor timing on your part, then."

"Why do you need to make a big thing out of it?" Hiccup barks, thrusting his arms into the air with defeat.

"You really can't see why something like this would upset me a little?" Eret retorts, raking fingers through his hair in frustration.

"No," Hiccup says, folding his arms across his chest, in the most pompous tone he's ever heard come from the boy's otherwise amiable mouth.

"You couldn't stop me if I came along, anyhow," Eret spits in frustration. "I'm a grown man."

"I would recommend listening to the chief's orders.

"You are such a brat sometimes."

"And you're way too defensive! Geez, all of this because I'm concerned about your health."

"You can't protect me from harm!" Eret shouts. "You won't always be there to protect me, unless you plan on babysitting me around the clock! Your mother, Astrid, your friends, even Toothless: you wouldn't treat them this way so don't give me that excuse."

"That's different," Hiccup argues. "That's different and you know it."

"People are lost every day," Eret heaves in an exasperated sigh. "This won't change anything. I understand, you mean well, but it's about time you get over it."

After comprehending what he just said, Eret staggers backwards, expecting a slap across the face.

"Get over what, Eret?" Hiccup disputes, before Eret can apologize. Balled fists stick to his sides. It was as if Eret had angered a hissing, feral cat, its furs spiked along its arched back.

"That's not what I meat. Hiccup, that was stupid of me to say."

"What do I need to get over, Eret?" Hiccup challenges, again, his voice cracking. "Do I need to get over the fact that I nearly lost you? Do you want me to erase that memory from my brain? Should I just pretend I that wasn't holding your frozen body in my arms, praying to the gods for mercy? Begging for your life?"

"No," Eret murmurs. "No, not at all. Hiccup—"

"Or maybe," He sneers, backing away, heading for the door, his brow crumpled with disbelief. "I should get over my father's death, right? Isn't that what this all boils down to?

"No," Eret gasps, "I would never. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I'm so sorry. Hiccup, love—"

The term of endearment softens them both, only temporarily. Regardless, he pivots, angrily, twisting the doorknob. A pregnant pause endures as Hiccup waits for a final statement.

"I can't risk losing people I care about."

Eret reaches for Hiccup's shoulder but he recoils from the gesture,

"Don't," Hiccup mumbles, inaudibly. "Just don't."

The hurt in his voice crumbles Eret's very core, shattering his resolve into tiny pieces. It was fair for enough for him to leave Eret like this. The door slams shut. Resigned to the damage he's caused, Eret wrathfully kicks a table stacked with weaponry.

I have no idea how insane my schedule will be for the next couple of months. I will try to update as often as I can. Class starts for me on Thursday, thus, I have provided you all with a very long chapter and a smut scene with some angst, in hopes that it will sustain your needs. Take care, readers! 3