18A/N: Total, complete irredeemable PWP. Because Kristanna smut is the best thing and I will never get tired of writing it.
(Please note that this fic is rated M for strong sexual content. If that offends and/or upsets you, please give this fic a pass. Otherwise, enjoy!)
"Quiet Session"
The barn is silent except for the slow drip of rainwater along the eaves, and the sudden sound of a low, rolling, contented moan.
A large hand presses flat to the base of Anna's spine, curving downward, thick yet nimble fingers catching her backside in a quick pinch. "Quiet, you," Kristoff murmurs, just barely audible.
Anna grins at him over her shoulder, presses back against the thickening erection slipping between her thighs. "I wasn't that loud," she whispers back, eyes falling shut at the feel of the slow, thick rub of him against her.
"The point," Kristoff says, and she can feel the tremor that shoots through him as she clenches, surrounds him, rocks her clit hard against his shaft, "the point was to see if you could actually not make a sound for once." He leans over her, presses his chest to her back, and she bites back a sharp cry when he slips his fingers between her legs and rubs against her in an easy, practiced rhythm.
"But…" Anna starts, remembers, and stubbornly rests her head on her arms even as she rolls her hips against his hand and the thick ridge of his cock, still slipping deliciously between her legs in all the right ways.
So he thought she couldn't be quiet, huh.
Well then.
Game on, Kristoff.
Anna shivers as Kristoff slowly pulls himself out from the clinging crux of her thighs, fingers sliding downward and just barely ghosting over her entrance, fingertips dipping, testing, pressing and curling in.
She turns her head, bites down against her arm as his fingers are replaced by the head of his cock, and she wants to cry out, sigh, mewl, anything as he very, very shallowly begins to enter her.
Move, she wants to cry, and her breath catches as his hands curve over her hips, smoothing up over her ribs and back down, and he thrusts in just a little more, just barely enough to feel, just an inch or so.
"Princess Anna?" she hears someone ask from outside, a questioning voice, a sharp tug on the locked door, and she starts to freeze, starts to rise up on her elbows, mouth opened to call out… but then a hand is stroking through her hair, pressing her head back down against the cushion of straw beneath them, and she turns her face, glances over her shoulder to see Kristoff eyeing her, one eyebrow raised, eyes dark with lust.
Anna's mouth closes with a sharp snap, and she narrows her eyes at him.
Smiles.
She has to bite her lip against it moments later, as she feels the next agonizingly slow inch press into her, but she forces herself to keep her eyes on Kristoff's.
He's smirking, the bastard.
She feels his hands move from her hips to cup her backside in a firm caress, and she knows the look in his eyes even as she closes her own.
But she still starts, shivers as he leverages his weight over her, leans down to brush his lips over the shell of her ear.
"Are you gonna stay quiet?" She feels rather than hears the words, feels the whispered ghost of his breath against her ear, stirring her hair, feels the low rumble deep in his chest.
She sucks in a shaky breath, managing an unsteady nod as he slips a fraction further inside.
"That's my good girl," he murmurs, biting gently against her earlobe.
He tilts his hips up, just a little, and she sucks her lower lip into her mouth, driving her teeth hard against it as the new angle catches something deep and delicious inside her, and she digs her fingers into the straw, scrambles for purchase, for something to ground her in reality.
"Princess Anna! Are you in there?" the voice calls again, knocking insistently.
She's trembling, breath coming in short pants as Kristoff continues his slow press into her. "You need it, don't you," he says, voice low and dark against her ear, and she can only nod, clenching tight around the thick length moving so slowly, so slowly inside her, and she tries to push back against him, tries to just impale herself onto him, press him deep inside and ride him for all she's worth because oh god, she needs it, but his hands are firm against her, holding her still.
"I think I want to take my time," he murmurs, rocking shallowly, rolling his hips so the head of his cock rubs inside and against in a way that makes her want to scream and cry all at once.
"But," Kristoff says, turning his head to press his cheek warmly against hers, one hand releasing its hold on her to curve under, slide between her folds to rub gently at her clit, "this isn't about what I want."
"What do you want, Anna?" he asks, and she can hear the breathlessness in his voice, feels the tremor in his body, and she knows what they both need.
She presses back, and he lets her this time, guides her in a slow, easy drag onto his cock, sighing in contentment as he finally slips fully inside her.
It always takes a minute to adjust — he's so big, and he pulses deep within her, lets her get used to the stretch, the fullness of his length buried deep inside her body.
"What do you want, Anna?" Kristoff asks again, withdrawing the tiniest bit before pushing back in.
It's actually kind of touching, how even here, in these moments where he's so, well, dominant, all clutching hands and insistent kisses… it's still about her. What she wants. What she needs.
Always.
Anna reaches blindly, strokes a hand through his hair, feels the curve of his smile as he takes it in his, brings it to his lips and kisses her palm.
"What do you want, Anna," he says, a whisper against her skin, and he dips his tongue lightly against the webbing between her fingers. "Do you want me to stop?"
She glances back at him, eyes pleading, and shakes her head.
His lips quirk into a smile, eyes never moving from hers as he drags a slow, lascivious lick along her fingers, as his own continue to rub against her. "Or," he murmurs, "do you want me to fuck you?"
Her breath catches in her throat, eyes burning into his as he begins a slow, easy, shallow thrusting, barely moving, lips suckling at her fingertips, and she nods helplessly.
Kristoff presses a warm, lingering kiss to her nape as he starts to pull out before thrusting deeply into her, and she feels the thick slide of him at a thousand wonderful points, presses her head against her arms and holds on as he begins to move in earnest.
It's almost a moot point, her silence, with the heavy sounds of their breath, the sound of meeting flesh, her name in a whispered mantra on Kristoff's lips, voice thick with love and lust, wrapped around a hundred dirty delirious ramblings as he fucks into her.
She can hear the tight cries slipping from her lips, just barely audible, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care as he rubs her clit faster, harder, circles his hips into her, and she drives her teeth into her arm as a bone-shattering orgasm washes over her, desperately tries to hold him in her with her thighs, feels her eyes roll back, her toes curl, and everything is Kristoff, Kristoff, Kristoff.
Anna hears her name in the same cadence as Kristoff pushes as deeply into her as he can, arms going tight around her, and she gasps at the feel of his teeth against the back of her neck, pulling and biting, holding her fast to him, and it feels somehow base and dirty and wonderful, like he's marked her as his mate, and she drives herself against his hand, comes again, hard and fast, at the thought.
She's breathing hard.
He's breathing harder.
"Pretty sure I heard you towards the end there, feistypants," she hears Kristoff murmur against her, feels the gentle nuzzle of his lips against her nape, soothing, loving.
"Pretty sure you gave me a pretty good reason to," Anna whispers back, and her voice is thick and rough, with lust, with satisfaction, and she whines as he slowly, slowly withdraws from her.
"Thanks." Kristoff crooks a grin at her, rolling her onto her side so he can curl her back to his chest, looping his arms warmly around her and nuzzling against her cheek. "You weren't so bad yourself."
"You're such a charmer," she laughs, quietly, swatting at his arm, and he kisses her cheek. "I love you."
"I know."
"A whole lot."
"Mm." He kisses down to her jaw, up to the corner of her mouth, before reaching up to tilt her head towards him, sliding his lips gently over hers. "Love you too."
"A whole lot?"
"A whole whole lot." He rolls his eyes a little when she sighs contentedly and wraps tighter around him, but he doesn't bother to hide his smile.
A smile that quickly fades when the door bursts open, and he quickly grabs the nearby blanket and flings it over them, just barely managing to conceal Anna's nude form.
"Mr. Bjorgman?" Anna hears an unfamiliar voice ask, and she tries to keep her breathing steady, mind racing with thoughts of propriety, respectability, princess-ness, and ugh, couldn't Kristoff have picked a blanket that smelled a little less like reindeer…
"Yeah?" she hears Kristoff say, and Anna rolls her eyes fondly and suppresses a giggle at the flat, disaffected grumpiness of his tone.
"We, uh… we thought Princess Anna had come this way. Wanted to let her know the farrier'd been around. Reshod her horse."
"Thanks. I'll let her know."
"Uh…"
"What?" Kristoff asks, voice familiarly impatient and gruff.
"I mean… uh… isn't…"
Anna hears hesitant footsteps approaching and feels her heart seize in her chest.
"Isn't Princess Anna under…"
"Touch that blanket and you won't live long enough to find out, pal."
"Uh… sorry about that I… uh…"
"Was just getting out of here."
"Right… that… I, uh… just tell her about the shoes. If you… uh… see her."
"Out. Now."
"Yes, sir." Quick footsteps this time, abashed, and the sound of a door very hastily shut.
Anna peeks out from under the blanket, eyes wide, hair disheveled and tangled with straw. "Do you think he'll keep quiet?" she asks, eyeing Kristoff worriedly.
Her eyes widen in surprise as he laughs and gathers her up into his arms, kissing her warmly.
"Honestly, feistypants," he says, nudging her nose with his, eyes sparkling with mischief, "if you can keep quiet, I think anyone can."