A/N: An old, broken drabble pieced together from my tumblr (where all my drabbles rest). Anyone who follows me there knows I am about the biggest advocate of Hicretstrid...canon, domestic, or otherwise. On the rare occasion, I indulge in the "otherwise". Here is the evidence.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I don't even own the beautiful chemistry. I'm just spring-boarding off of it.
How did it End Up Like this?
Sometimes Astrid would kiss Hiccup like Eret wasn't there.
She went through the usual, "Hi, babe. How was your day?" and that greeting peck would linger and open with sliding lips and hands that shifted across arms and chests. Hiccup seemed to know when to give into the small tugs, and where to support her back as she used her weight to hold him closer, and how to draw his lips back mid-kiss and murmur: "Hey… we're not…uh, okay."
Eret took a final sip of his mead and stood from the armed chair when Astrid's heavy breath against Hiccup's parted mouth became uncomfortably audible.
"Well, I can take a hint as well as any," he announced, leaving the warm dregs of his drink on the table's corner and picking up his discarded, tawny overfurs. The hour was late as is and he had drank enough for one night; he'd be lucky if he managed a morning without pain. He tossed the furs over his arm and counted on his warmed blood to keep him through the cold walk home.
Astrid detached herself from Hiccup just enough to catch the hip of Eret's tunic as he passed.
Eret stared at the fist in his shirt before following the arm to the woman attached. He tried to recall if Astrid had entered carrying that bright, disheveled look of a long, fun night or if she'd managed to achieve it with that kiss. He took the small hand with his own, never ceasing to wonder at how she kept such slender fingers and still wielded weapons with incredible skill, and gently removed the hook on his clothing.
"I think you have other things in mind," he told her, sending arch grin overhead to the chief. Flushed, but unabashed, Hiccup returned it with a helpless shrug. Astrid had a hand on Hiccup's neck and didn't seem to realize she was massaging the skin exposed around the loose-necked tunic. She also didn't appear to notice (or care) how Eret took advantage of the night, and the mead, and the heat, and held onto her for a lengthened moment.
"Didn't mean to interrupt Mead night," she said. Her smile was faint and unapologetic, her eyes hard. She hadn't pulled her hand from Eret's; in fact, her fingers curled around his thumb and, pinned by her bold stare, Eret suddenly felt like the hearth had been stoked too high.
"It's fine," Hiccup answered. There was a gleam across his moistened lips, striking by the fire.
Astrid continued to peer at Eret through the part of her bangs. Her lashes lowered to set sight on their entwined hands, then lifted again to meet his eyes. Her lips quirked. She raked her hand across Hiccup's chest as she stepped away from him, easily tugged free from Eret, and left both men to whisk Eret's cup from where he set it.
Hiccup's jaw clenched as though making a split decision not to protest; Astrid had certainly been drinking at the Mead-hall, as told by hard steps and lazy movements.
And her next words.
"Hiccup looked so kissable." She spoke conversationally as she tipped the pitcher and refilled the mug. She might as well have been speaking of a good harvest. "Sometimes it's hard to stop once I get started. Right, babe?"
Hiccup's eyes narrowed marginally. "Sure…" His wife's mood was obvious, and Eret knew as soon as he stepped outside Astrid would be back where she had been a moment ago, flush against the chief and tugging at the hem of his tunic.
Hiccup seemed to know it as well. He kept shifting his weight.
Astrid pressed her lips against the rim of the mug where Eret's own had moments before and turned her gaze at the former trapper. The blue of her eyes seemed dark as his own.
"Want to give it a go?" she proposed in a low, airless voice before she tipped a mouthful of mead down her throat.
"Want to…?" Eret looked at Hiccup, only blanking for a second before the full weight of her words struck. He nearly choked. Astrid could get handsy and lewd when she'd had enough to drink, but she'd never offered Hiccup in anyway. Not to him. Not in private where the motivation to showboat or cause spectacle before a crowd was made moot.
For his part, Hiccup appeared remarkably unruffled by the proposal (with the exception of his haphazard neckline and mussed hair). He'd probably seen his wife like this more than any other on the island, Eret realized.
"Astrid…" Fondness and warning carried her name from Hiccup's lips. Odd, how he didn't say 'no' outright. He didn't look at Eret, nor did he acknowledge any of the fresh tension that Eret felt too powerfully to suppress his own reaction. He adopted a peculiar awareness of his fingers––how lax and idle they felt––and of the hang of his arms. He wanted to cross them in a powerful image to show how he was just as unaffected as Hiccup. Just as much as he didn't want to move.
Astrid took another sip, her cheeks taut with a grin. "Come on," she begged, still addressing Eret.
Eret risked another glance at Hiccup, feeling his presence in the Haddock homestead more uncomfortable than when Hiccup and Astrid were entwined.
Astrid seated herself on the edge of the table and rubbed her knees together. "It's been such a long day, for me," she pouted. Her amusement ruined any plead.
Hiccup scoffed. "For you?"
Eret felt he could sympathize with the other man; he had just spent the past hour and half listening to Hiccup unwind over shared drinks.
"Just one?" Astrid kept addressing Eret and Eret really wished she wouldn't. Mead brightened the apples of her cheeks making them plumper than usual, ripe and lovely. Her hair cocked further to the left, blown by the northern winds in her walk from the Hall so that it fell across her brow. She looked like a siren illustrated in Gaelic folk books. The sort that could compel a man to do anything.
Hiccup still appeared long-suffering and nothing more, as though Astrid's suggestion that Eret kiss him were a silly indulgence. Eret wished for a stronger reaction. For something he could work with.
He was a handsome man, Berk's chief. Tall and taut, strong as bow wood, with admirable features that caused lingering stares and thick hair still colorful with youth. Eret had spent time among many handsome men, near as many handsome women, and took joy in appreciating them however they would allow. He wouldn't say no to appreciating Hiccup–he knew it the moment the young man flipped his visor up and grinned at him from the back of a Night Fury while Eret was secure in Astrid's arms. But Hiccup was also a man Eret would never want to upset.
He didn't want to upset the life he had been building on Berk or his welcome in the home of its generous rulers.
He still had a chance to laugh it off, to walk out the door with a good-natured promise to see them tomorrow. He knew they would carry on as though Astrid's inviting suggestion had never been mentioned; it wouldn't be the first time she suggested something after a few too many and tried to pressure them with pleads and laughs.
Or he could take her up on her offer. Gently.
"Ah," Eret switched one last glance back to Astrid, still waiting for her to shout 'joking!', before turning fully to Hiccup. The clung to the drinks he had, to the atmosphere and his rapport with the couple. "May I?"
Kindle popped loudly from the hearth.
The stern, bemused glare Hiccup had leveled on his wife dropped. He twisted around to Eret, missing Astrid's comical, vigorous nod.
"You…" Hiccup cheeks were a bit dark from the drink––a trait shared by his wife––but Eret liked to think Hiccup further contemplated the idea behind that stunned complexion.
"Hiccup," Astrid cooed from her lofty seat, "please. For me?"
Eret's only indication that Hiccup heard his wife's appeal was in the way his eyes fell to his lips, which Eret fought very hard not to hide. He couldn't remember a time he'd been under Hiccup's open scrutiny, with lust skimming the corners of those shaded, green eyes. Eret had felt acceptance and guidance and even love from Hiccup, but never desire. He felt heat blossom in his gut and found desperate encouragement in the knowledge that Hiccup hadn't stepped away yet, that he hadn't said "You may not" yet.
When Hiccup next moved, it was to send Astrid a half-hearted glare.
"This isn't going to be a thing," he said as though he were talking to a child he indulged too often. And he did indulge her too often, as went the talk of the town.
Then he stepped forward, closer to the larger man, chin jutted in as much as an invitation as Eret could hope for, and sighed.
For a breath, Eret lost himself.
His hands felt too big. Clunky and wooden. He didn't know where he was allowed to touch Hiccup––if he should touch Hiccup with anything but his lips––how far he should stand or where to place his feet. He worried he might come off too intimate or too callous.
The stirrings of regret for jumping on Astrid's suggestion began because there would be no going back from this. His comfortable, happy place in the Haddocks' lives could be forever compromised because he gave into a silly lust during a festive night.
Astrid's expectant stare barbed his skin, her words burned his ears along with the table creaks of her shifting, impatient weight with her mouth sliding along the rim of their mug. And Hiccup, standing just before him with his neck angled, mouth offered, and eyes pinned to Eret's lips with open interest.
Eret steeled his gut. He took a breath, his head tilted, his hand hovering just beyond the reach of Hiccup's shoulder, and he extended his neck only enough to press a soft kiss on his chief's mouth.
His nose brushed along the skin below Hiccup's eye and Eret swore he could feel the eyelashes of the other fall close.
The pressure was returned.
Eret fought to keep from swallowing as something burst within his chest––a spark of nerves set alive by the knowledge of whom he kissed. And it was a lovely kiss. Plain but powerful, with just enough savor and warmth. Eret wondered if the moist relish tasted on his mouth belonged to Hiccup or was left by Astrid and found both prospects exciting.
The jolt in his chest grew and fluttered and threatened to steal his breath when narrow lips moved against his.
Astrid's breathy approval fell from Eret's concern the moment he felt compression and heat take his bottom lip. Hiccup was kissing him back––immediately, actively––and Eret nearly fell away from the shock of it. It must have been obvious; Eret could feel the grin, feel the puff of breath with Hiccup's soft "heh" before the pressure on his mouth renewed.
Astrid's presence must have stirred the confidence and playfulness. The idea that Hiccup would kiss him back so sensually and of his own accord seemed wanton to Eret, but Eret wouldn't allow the whys and hows to ruin a perfectly good kiss. He allowed his hovering hands to finally rest, taking the breadth of Hiccup's shoulders in his palms, as hard and lean as the rest of his body.
Hiccup was a forceful kisser, Eret found. Slow but confident, much like how he managed people. He didn't bend to the stress of another mouth, nor did he attempt to overpower Eret. He took a quiet sort of control that made Eret feel… safe. At ease. It was enjoyable and Eret felt himself fall into the sensations without any mind.
The scruff of a man's jaw against his own brought back memories from months-long voyages, fumbling in cabins. The bone and warmth. The strength. Hiccup tasted lightly of their shared mead, but it was the salt and ash that took in Eret's senses. The firm press of thin lips and the stab of his chin.
He had meant for the kiss to be chaste, even with the gentle pecks and sips and strokes. Then long fingers wrapped around the width of his neck and Eret felt those thin lips open and a new kind of heat entered his mouth; a familiar gust with an unfamiliar flavor. Eret reacted to the invitation readily, refusing to question Hiccup's forward behavior, refusing to pause for any sort of consideration lest he stop the embrace altogether. His tongue scraped against the uneven teeth and reached for the smooth muscle within. The nerves of earlier erupted once more.
The hair at the back of his neck pinched as Hiccup pulled closer with a strength to his arms Eret hadn't anticipated. Nor had he anticipated the long, tight body to pull flush against his, tugged by a fist at his hip. He hadn't anticipated the sheer pleasure he took in having Hiccup against him.
He couldn't believe he was still locked in an embrace with his chief. If it were luck or a dream––another half-cocked fantasy taking life in his slumber.
No, he was most definitely awake. A new taste coated his lips, the memory of Hiccup's smell, the way he moved his mouth––the unique rhythm and pressure––Eret shared it with only one other person.
When one kiss ended, Hiccup turned his head, nosed Eret's other cheek, and started anew, as though fascinated with the plumpness of the larger man's mouth, unlike any he'd kissed before. He would whisper 'alright?' like Eret was some fragile lamb and Eret realized perhaps his nerves over upsetting the couple was easier read than realized. He'd nod in response. Or grunt. Or merely kiss Hiccup with express vigor to show how alright he felt about the situation.
Through it all, Eret remained intently aware of Astrid, who's presence went from a distraction to a stimulant. He'd only known her a year and he could already picture the expression that lit her face: lip bit, leaning forward, half a grin, hand running beneath the hem of her skirt…
His lips were swollen, breath nearly gone, mind lost in the sounds they made, when Hiccup leaned in, hips first, and like a warm kick to his groin Eret felt the other man's erection. The stirrings of his own jumped at the bare touch, like a tight and drawing force that tugged between his legs. Eret had no illusions to who started that hardness pressed against his navel––she sat merely an arms-length away, still watching––but feeling it run the length of his pant seam, remaining, growing, gave Eret the confidence to rest a hand on Hiccup's hip, sliding to the small of his back, and shift closer to meet him.
Perhaps the attraction wasn't as one-sided as Eret feared. Perhaps this had been discussed by the couple in the privacy of their own bed, as they fed each other wishes and fantasies.
In fact, all fear had left the reformed trapper as he enjoyed the brazen clutch of Berk's lithesome chief, feeling his excitement and favor. The nerves and doubts of earlier melted in the heat of Hiccup's enthusiasm, under his slow-moving lips and the gentle force shifting the lose fabric of Eret's pants.
Astrid said something––a swear, breath rich with approval. Both men staunchly ignored her in favor of exploring the new impression between them.
Hiccup moved against Eret. His narrow hips rolled so that their members skated, pressed and gliding through two layers of clothing, and Astrid's work of earlier passed onto Eret as the strain between their legs grew.
Eret shoved back with an upward jerk of his hips. Down and up and down again. His large, northern hands tightened around the flesh of Hiccup's bottom without shame or hesitation and with nothing to tell him he had finally taken things too far, Eret's fingers curled and fisted the taught, working flesh. Soft grunts left his throat. A rousing current pulsed from his groin and up his spine. Hiccup's own quiet vocals puffed against his lips and cheeks until both mouths fell still, parted and wet and glancing, brows rested together.
Their drive propelled, humping growing frantic, and for a moment it was only their groins, grinding and shifting, that captured their attention. The fire continued to pop in the hearth behind them, extending the heat that prickled their cheeks and necks.
Astrid's voice cut across their gasps. "Together."
Firelight reflected in her eyes. The roomed suddenly seemed darker.
"We can't get anymore together," Hiccup groaned. His neck twisted to glance back at her. Eret wondered at how he could keep his voice flat to address his wife while moving so sensually against another man.
"Yes, you can." She turned her gaze to Eret and he understood. It felt natural, what Astrid suggested; he moved to her words as though they were tied together, jumping to orders or through an eagerness of his own volition.
One hand dragged around to Hiccup's front and cupped the bulge in the lap of his pants before crawling under the hem of his tunic to find the waist.
"Is this okay?" Eret whispered without falter to his hands. His knuckles scraped against the warm navel, fingers already picking at the drawstring to Hiccup's pants.
"Yeah," Hiccup heard himself breathe back. A second later had thick lips sliding along his jaw, mouth on his ear––a different tenor to the hot breath huffing along his cheek––and the young chief dared another glance at his wife. She sat at the table, sipping from Eret's mug. Shoulder furs lost. Leggings kicked off. Her eyes had gone very dark, glittering with an intensity he hadn't seen since her dragon-hunting days.
He tried to give her the stink-eye. She wrinkled her nose back, unable to fell the grin from her cheeks, and bit her lip.
A haze tightened around Hiccup's temple as pants were jerked––once, twice––before falling loose around his thighs. Cool air swept in to kiss his heated skin. Then thick fingers slid across his pelvis, cold and stunning, and all too soon Hiccup felt them swathe around the ache between his legs. His hand flew behind him to brace against the table, the fingers of his other scratched against Eret's neck as he fought to keep his weight up.
This was happening. This…he should have stopped it––this. Emotions were involved. He cared. He cared about the following morning and every morning after––
But the hand was more skilled than he could have dreamed, running his length with a blend of gentleness and force that made the muscles of his back jump. Eret's breath caressed his ear, his neck. The squeeze of his fingers, the press of his thighs. Overpowering, encompassing, desirous...
Hiccup broke eye contact with Astrid when Eret pressed a thumb into the base of his penis. His head tilted back and a soft groan popped from his dry throat.
"This okay?" Eret asked again. Somehow their positions had reversed, with Eret pushing the limits, checking on Hiccup's consent…
Eret slowed in his exploration of Hiccup's body to tug his own rousing flesh from his pants. Hiccup peeked down to find it, thick and umber and standing firm from a junction of black, straight hair––hair Hiccup found to be as sleek and glossy as the threads captured between his fingers when Eret flattened against him with their members trapped and pressed between the strength of their hips. Hiccup gasped as though he'd never had another man's private pressed naked to his own. A short, shuddering, silent cry.
"Just… tell me to stop–" Eret began, voice bated and dazed.
"You're not stopping now," Hiccup hissed. Eret pressed further, thrusting sloppily along the stream of Hiccup's hip before easing off enough to reach between them and gather their flagged and roddened members in one hand.
Table legs scraped along the floor. Astrid chuckled and Eret briefly caught her eye, hair falling in his vision, before pumping the captured handful.
Hiccup's heard his own breath fall ragged but felt none of it. The silken penile skin, dark with arousal, hot as coal––or so it felt––rubbed, trapped in a fist that tightening upward until knuckles pressed two hypersensitive heads together, then loosened and slid down. The motion was slow and strong and formidable in the loud silence.
New. Exhilarating. Intoxicating.
Then it quickened. Up. Down. Up. Down. Updownupdownupdown.
They weren't kissing anymore. Hiccup hadn't realized until his own, heavy gasps became audible to his ears. His neck had bent, he felt Eret's brow pressed to his temple and heard the older man's breath fall a beat behind his own––pumping in time with the fist. Hiccup merely stared down with bleary vision, incapable of any more for the moment other than to hold his own tunic up and cling to Eret's neck. There was something about seeing their erections pressed, crushed together, that sent a sharp pull in his gut. Foreskins slipped and wrinkled, conformed and molded. Soft, slitted heads slid against each other to send sparks straight down his shaft and into a sack that grew tight and heavy between his thighs.
His hand slipped from Eret's neck to further anchor his weight against the table, the edge of which dug into his thighs. Hiccup thrust into Eret's fisting with eager need and found it wasn't enough. He wanted to push Eret to his knees and take his mouth. He wanted to turn around and bury himself into Astrid. He felt a quiver run through his thighs and nestle somewhere between his tailbone and bellybutton. Then another. And another.
Eret must have felt the same, unreal urges, as the free hand on Hiccup's backside tightened to the point of nails indenting his skin. The older man bore down on him, nose carelessly bumping from Hiccup's temple to his chin. Lips falling to his neck and collar. Voice disappearing into his hair.
Then the table jostled, and through his fog of arousal Hiccup managed to discern it was a different jostle than the steady beat of their bodies. Heavier.
Astrid's voice sounded dangerously close to his ear, and before Hiccup could register her proximity, her touch at his neck or the taste of her breath, he found himself pushed, pulled––half-lifted by Eret's hand underneath his bare bottom––and finally dropped, horizontal, flat-backed, against the table.
When had they decided this? he thought, dazed. Had they communicated overhead as his eyes were screwed shut and his face buried against Eret's neck?
Hiccup had barely lifted his neck, elbows already braced against stained wood, when Eret climbed atop him to a straddle; the mans pants were kicked fully off and his thighs tensed on either side of Hiccup's hips. Hiccup felt the heavy, dark balls rest against his own, their hips joined, and Eret's substantial weight settled to crush their exposed pelvises. Hiccup's stomach visibly jumped at the sensation. He was no longer aware of what noises left his mouth.
Astrid knelt at Hiccup's shoulders and ran her hands across his chest, pulling up his tunic to lay bare the freckled, scarred skin of his torso and scraping the hair of his naval.
A very distant part of Hiccup's mind wondered if the table were built to handle all three of them. Then Eret reached down between them and continued the handjob with new weight and new power, his gut tight and drawn.
Hiccup gripped Eret's knees as the man began to thrust back and forth overtop him. He felt those wide, muscled legs labor, slid his palms through the sparse hair to the concave of Eret's moving hips where it grew thick and soft. He wanted to touch Eret the way Eret touched him. To feel in his fingers what Eret felt. He whisked his fingertips across their joined heads, slippery with precum.
Eret leaned forward and steadied a leaden, free hand against Hiccup's ribs to keep his torso down.
"Just… stay still," the man huffed. The slow, sensual pumps had returned to a frantic beat, made worse by force Eret drove down from above. Even if Hiccup wanted to keep from touching everything he saw, he couldn't stop from plunging back against the shared aperture of Eret's hand. His fingers strained to run across Eret's groin again.
"Don't move Hiccup," Astrid ordered.
A nasally, angry whine arose from Hiccup's throat when she grabbed both his wrists and pinned them over his head. Hiccup hadn't the strength to pull them back into his control––not with his narrowing vision and short breath.
"C-come on," he whined. Astrid only grinned, hair falling to curtain overhead. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
"Love you," she whispered. Then she kissed his chin. Then leaned further to mouth his exposed ribs, and the jumping, rolling skin of his stomach and even the dip between his hipbones, where she came dangerously close to Eret's fisting.
"You're in… so much trouble," he gasped back, though he knew even she hadn't intended for this.
Hiccup didn't know if it were her arousal he smelt––damp and potent––or his own. Or Eret's. It might have been the sudden change in elevation or the coil, tightening and heady, building in his abdomen.
He could see Eret straining; the hand lost rhythm, perhaps seeing Hiccup, panting and stretched beneath him furthered the image for his arousal. His own teeth clenched from helpless need and his spine arched from the table despite both party's efforts.
Mindless and captive and knowing who was responsible for bringing him to the brink of madness, Hiccup let his head fall back against the table, scrunched his eyes, and uttered, "Eh-Eret–"
Eret's eyes, fixed on Hiccup's face, widened marginally before screwing shut. The hand grew strong again. Steady and purposeful. Then he gave a short, wheezing cry. Ropes of white shot across Hiccup's exposed stomach, reaching as far as the bunched ends of his tunic.
Hiccup wasn't sure how it happened, but there was movement, and then coldness, and he might have cried out as Eret staggered back and the table groaned equally as loud with the loss.
Then Astrid was there, seated where Eret had been a second ago, and Hiccup felt the difference immediately. A smaller hand, differing fingers. But he still tasted Eret, still remembered his grip and presence, still felt the cooling spunk across his stomach. He managed to catch Eret's eye as Astrid seated herself on his strained erection with ease––wet and welcoming in her own arousal––before his head thudded back against the wood, gripped in blistering velvet, and he found his own release with his next breath.
A/N: And that was how the new heir of Berk was conceived.
I won't apologize for any of this. You're the one who read this far.