Chapter Text
“No, left. Keep going, even more to the left,” Astrid groans into Hiccup’s neck as he sways, leaning on her and forcing her back even further into the corner of the darkened closet. The cramped space smells like mead sweetened breath and late summer sweat, and his hand is up her skirt, not quite in the right place. “It never takes you this long to find it.”
“Well excuse me Astrid,” he lisps through her name, sloppy damp lips pressing into the shell of her ear. “My hand isn’t really listening to me right now. It’s got an…an attitude.”
“If you aren’t going to do it right, you should—oh, you had it for a second.”
“Yeah?” He jerks his head up to grin at her and his hand slides off of that crucial place, slick and useless against her inner thigh. She tries to slap his arm and misses, ending up smacking her thumb against his ribs. “Ouch, what was that for?”
“When I tell you that you have it, it means don’t stop, not to do something entirely different.”
“Maybe we should do something entirely different…” he slurs, grinding his hips against her thin summer skirt, relishing in the lack of spikes.
“Yeah?” She smiles at him, drunk enough to forget the failure of a minute before as her hand slides down the front of his pants to grasp at…nothing. “Hiccup?”
“What are you waiting for?” He nips her earlobe and she can feel his cocky smile hot and pressed against the side of her neck, acrid sweet breath wafting against the kiss-damp skin of her shoulder. She shifts and shrugs her shirt back into place, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Not the time to tease me, Astrid.”
“Hiccup?”
“What?” He grinds against her hand and she can’t quite choke back a laugh. “Because laughing at me is always great for the mood—”
“Hiccup, you aren’t…there’s nothing going on down there.”
“What?” He pulls away enough to reach down and grab his own crotch. “What are you talking about? It’s all firm—”
“That’s my hand.”
“Oh.”
“Oh what?”
“I don’t—there’s really nothing? Maybe it’s just shy,” he suggests with a sheepish teeter, leaning in to kiss her, clumsy and hungry and artless. His hips twitch against her hand and he pulls away to breath against her cheek, “how about now?”
“Still nothing.”
“Really?” He pulls away and falls against the opposite wall, legs spread and braced awkwardly against the dirt floor. He holds the front of his pants away from his body and looks down at himself, eyebrows low and stern above his eyes. “Come on bud, don’t do this to me now—”
“You call your penis bud?” Astrid laughs, clapping her hand over her mouth at his attempted glare.
“Don’t say penis right now, you’ll scare him.”
“What should I say? Cock? Dick? You’re hot, hard—”
“Really?” He glares down his pants, looking up at her despairingly. “Nothing. Not even a…shiver.”
“Really? I called it a hard cock and nothing?” She stumbles away from the wall and catches herself with a hand against the wall beside his shoulder. “Should I call him bud? Would that help?”
“No, I think that freaked him…in.” He sighs and rests his forehead on her shoulder, metal foot scraping too loudly against the floor in the dark. “This isn’t happening, is it?”
“I don’t think it is.” She shakes her head and stands up straight, stepping out of the way as he slides down the wall to sit on the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to go back out there yet. Can we just sit in here for a while?”
“Yeah, of course.” And she sits down behind him, heavy, wobbly head landing against his shoulder.