Snow Banks

The pine needles of Berk’s high forests groaned under a fresh blanket of white powder, muffling the usual sounds of dragon-fire and clashing metal. It was a day where the sun hung low and pale, casting long, blue shadows across the drifts. Hiccup, trudged through the knee-deep snow, his prosthetic leg making a rhythmic, metallic ‘clunk-crunch’ with every step. Beside him, Astrid, his lovely girlfriend, moved with the practiced grace of a predator, her boots barely sinking into the crust.

                "Remind me why we’re out here again?" Hiccup asked, his breath hitching in a plume of white vapor. "The village meeting starts in an hour, and my dad is going to behead someone if I’m not there."

                Astrid didn't look back. Her shoulders, broad and corded with the kind of muscle only a life of axe-swinging could forge, rippled under her fur-lined pauldrons. "The village can wait. Stormfly found something near the old cove, and if it’s a rogue dragon, we need to know."

                "Stormfly is currently back at the stables eating chicken," Hiccup pointed out. "I saw her."

                Astrid stopped dead. She turned, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes that usually preceded a very sore ribs session for Hiccup. "Are you calling me a liar, Haddock?"

                Hiccup raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Never. I’m just saying, the 'rogue dragon' excuse is getting a little thin. Especially since you brought a blanket in your satchel."

                Astrid’s smirk widened. She reached out, grabbing the collar of his flight suit and pulling him toward a secluded clearing sheltered by thick, drooping hemlocks. The air was still, shielded from the biting wind. "Maybe I just wanted some privacy. You’ve been buried in maps for three weeks, Hiccup. You’re starting to smell like old parchment."

                "Hey, parchment has a very sophisticated aroma," he joked, but he didn't resist as she shoved him backward.

                He hit a particularly soft bank of snow, the cold soaking through his trousers instantly. Before he could complain, Astrid was over him. Her upper body was a testament to Viking strength—narrow waist, powerful arms, and shoulders that could carry a yak. But as she moved, the sheer staggering volume of her lower half became the focal point. Her hips flared out into a massive, rounded expanse of flesh that seemed to defy the physics of her athletic frame. Her thighs were thick pillars of muscle and soft, insulating fat, pressing together with a heavy friction that made the fabric of her leggings groan.

                "Astrid, what are you—"

                He didn't finish. With a playful grunt, Astrid turned around and lowered herself. The world went dark.

                The sheer weight of her was immense. It wasn't the sharp, bony weight of a warrior, but a massive, suffocating pillows-of-flesh sort of weight. Her enormous, plump buttocks settled directly onto his face, her cheeks spreading wide to swallow his entire head. The smell of leather, pine, and the musky, feminine heat of her skin overwhelmed him.

                "You able to breathe down there, Haddock?" Astrid asked, her voice muffled but carrying a clear, melodic giggle.

                Hiccup’s muffled reply was lost against the expanse of her rear. He flailed his arms for a moment before his hands found purchase on the outsides of her thighs. They were massive, trembling slightly with the cold and her own excitement. He shifted his head, trying to find a pocket of air, but only succeeded in burying his nose deeper into the cleft of her bottom.

                "Mmph! Grah-strid!"

                She shifted, lifting her weight just enough for him to gasp in a lungful of frigid air. "Sorry, did I crush the Great Dragon Trainer? I thought you liked a me."

                Hiccup blinked, his vision filled with the pale, expansive curve of her buttocks as she hovered over him. The contrast was absurd; her back was a map of hard muscle and scarred skin, tapering down to a waist he could almost wrap his hands around, which then exploded into the twin moons currently eclipsing his entire horizon.

                "I... I can work with this," Hiccup managed, his voice cracking.

                Astrid laughed, a rich, throaty sound. She reached back, unfastening the ties of her leggings with nimble fingers. She didn't take them off entirely, just pushed them down past those heavy, rounded hips, letting the cold air hit her bare skin. She lowered herself again, but this time, she adjusted her position. She wasn't just sitting; she was presenting.

                The heat radiating from her was intense. Hiccup felt the soft, damp friction of her pussy lips pressing against his chin as she slid forward. The scent changed—sharper, sweeter, more primal. He didn't need further instruction. He reached up, his fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh of her butt cheeks, spreading them apart.

                The sight was breathtaking. Her pussy was swollen, a deep, healthy pink against the pale cream of her skin, glistening with a thin sheen of arousal. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste her. She tasted of salt and womanhood, a heady cocktail that made his head swim.

                "Oh, Odin," Astrid breathed, her head tossing back. Her powerful back arched, the muscles in her neck standing out like cords. "Yes! Right there, Hiccup!"

                He went to work with a fervor that surprised them both. His tongue lashed against her clitoris, swirling and flicking with the same precision he used to calibrate a dragon’s saddle. He could hear the wet, shlicking sounds of his saliva mixing with her juices, the noise amplified by the snowy silence around them. Every time he swiped up, a low, guttural moan escaped her, vibrating through her thighs and into his chest.

                Astrid wasn't content to just receive. While Hiccup’s face was buried in her folds, her hands traveled downward. She fumbled with the fastens of his trousers, her fingers turning numb from the cold but fueled by a different kind of heat. She yanked the fabric down, freeing his cock. It was already rock hard, pulsing with a life of its own in the winter air.

                "Look at you," she whispered, leaning forward so her chest pressed against his knees, her hands wrapping around his shaft. "All that talk about maps and you were thinking about this the whole time."

                She began to stroke him, her grip firm and calloused. The friction of her warrior's palm against his sensitive skin sent jolts of electricity straight to his gut. She pumped him with a steady, rhythmic motion, her thumb occasionally straying to the head to smear the clear drop of pre-cum across the slit.

                "Astrid... gods," Hiccup groaned, the sound vibrating against her labia. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue buried deep inside her now, mimicking the motion of a cock. He sucked on her inner lips, pulling the sensitive flesh into his mouth and swirling his tongue until she was shaking.

                "Hiccup, you're going to... ah!" She broke off into a sharp cry as a particularly vigorous lap sent a wave of pleasure through her. Her enormous ass twitched and bucked against his face, her weight threatening to squash him into the permafrost. "Don't stop! Don't you dare stop!"

                The sounds in the clearing were now a symphony of wet, squelching noises. Every time Hiccup’s tongue retreated and pushed back in, air was trapped and expelled with a distinct *pop* and *schloop*. The moisture from her body was steaming in the cold air, a faint mist rising from where they joined.

                Astrid’s hand on his penis grew more frantic. She wasn't just stroking now; she was twisting slightly, her thumb circling the corona with a precision that made Hiccup’s toes curl inside his boots. He felt the build-up, the pressure behind his hips becoming unbearable.

                "I'm close!" he gasped out, his voice muffled by her thighs.

                "Me too," she hissed. "Do it! Fill my hand, Hiccup! Show me how much you missed me!"

                She began to move her hips in a grinding circle, forcing his face deeper into her. The friction was incredible. His nose was buried in her scent, his tongue was a blur of motion against her clit, and her hand was a vice on his cock.

                The climax hit her first. Astrid’s body went rigid, her fingers digging so hard into his thighs that he knew he’d have bruises the shape of her hands tomorrow. She let out a long, high-pitched wail that probably startled every bird within a mile. Her pussy clamped down on his tongue, pulsing in rhythmic, wet waves that sent squirts of her cream across his cheeks and nose.

                "Yes! Oh, gods, yes!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the trees.

                Seeing her go over the edge was the final straw for Hiccup. He felt the surge begin at the base of his spine. With a final, desperate groan, he stiffened. His cock bucked in her hand, and a thick, hot jet of cum erupted from him, splashing over her fingers and onto the fur trim of her boots. He came in heavy, pulsing bursts, the white fluid standing out starkly against the dark leather of his pants.

                Astrid didn't let go until the last drop was spent. She stayed draped over him for a long moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her massive rear still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Slowly, she sat up, looking down at him with a dazed, triumphant expression. Her face was flushed, her hair a wild mess of blonde strands and pine needles.

                "Well," she panted, wiping a smear of cum from her thumb and, with a wink, licking it off. "I think that counts as a successful patrol."

                Hiccup lay back in the snow, his face covered in her juices, his chest heaving. He looked up at the grey sky, a goofy, lopsided grin on his face. "I think... I think I've forgotten how to walk. My peg might be frozen."

                Astrid laughed, the sound bright and clear. She stood up, her massive legs shaking slightly, and began to pull her leggings back over her impressive curves. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll carry you. I've got plenty of 'padding' to keep you comfortable." but her gaze was locked on the unmistakable bulge still straining against the front of his flight suit. Despite the sub-zero temperatures and the fact that he’d just decorated the snowbank, Hiccup was still standing at full, rigid attention.

"Well, well," Astrid purred, her voice dropping into a playful, guttural growl. "It seems the Great Dragon Master isn't quite finished yet. Is the heir to Birk having a bit of a... rebellion in his lower ranks?"

 Hiccup, still breathless and vibrating from the cold, looked down sheepishly. His face was a shade of red that rivaled a Monstrous Nightmare's scales. "I—it’s the adrenaline, Astrid! I can’t exactly help it. You’re... well, look at you! You’re not exactly making it easy for a man to stay professional."

 "Professional?" Astrid scoffed, stepping closer. She grabbed his hands, hauling him to his feet with that effortless, terrifying Viking strength. She practically lifted him out of the snow, planting him firmly with his back against a gnarled, ancient oak tree. "Stand up, Haddock. And stay still. That’s a direct order from your second-in-command."

 "Astrid, Stoick is going to be awfully mad—"

 "The Vast can wait until his son is properly... defused," she countered.

 She didn't finish pulling up her leggings. Instead, her hands moved to the hem of her thick, crimson tunic. With a swift, practiced motion, she pulled the garment down exposing her luscious breasts to the frigid air.

Hiccup’s breath hitched in his throat. Even after years of being together, the sight of her was enough to make his brain short-circuit. Her upper body was a marvel of lean, functional muscle; her shoulders were broad and defined, her arms corded with the strength of a woman who spent her mornings hurling axes. Her torso tapered down to a narrow, athletic waist, which then exploded into the staggering, heavy fullness of her lower half. Her breasts were full and firm, swaying slightly as she moved, their pale skin goose-fleshed from the biting wind.

"Astrid, you’re going to catch your death!" Hiccup hissed, his eyes darting around the clearing as if a rogue Speed Stinger might jump out to judge them.

"Then you better hurry up and keep me warm," she replied, her eyes flashing.

She dropped to her knees in the snow, her massive thighs acting as sturdy, insulating pillars. She reached out, unfastening the remaining ties of his trousers and pulling them down with a sharp tug. His cock sprang free, steaming in the frigid air like a fresh-forged blade from Gobber’s smithy.

*Slurp.*

Astrid didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, her warm, wet mouth engulfing the head of his shaft. The contrast was a violent shock to his system—the icy air on his skin followed by the scorching, velvet heat of her throat.

"Oh, gods... Astrid," Hiccup groaned, his head thumping back against the rough bark of the oak. He gripped the tree for stability, his knuckles turning white.

She pulled back just an inch, a long, silver string of saliva connecting her lip to the tip of his cock. *Schlick.* She used her hands to gather her breasts, her muscular arms squeezing them together until they formed a tight, deep valley of pale flesh. She pressed him into that cleavage, the friction of her skin catching against him.

"Stay. Still." she whispered against his skin.

She began to work him with a rhythmic, primal focus. She used her mouth to suck and swirl around the crown, while simultaneously kneading his shaft with her breasts. She moved her chest in a slow, grinding circle, the soft mounds of her tits sliding up and down his length.

*Gluck. Schlopp. Squelch.*

The sounds were wet and rhythmic, amplified by the silent, snow-covered arena. Hiccup watched from above, mesmerized by the sight. Her blonde hair was a mess of gold against her pale, toned shoulders. He could see the muscles in her back rippling as she moved her chest, her hands squeezing her own breasts to keep the pressure tight around him.

"Mmph-nnn," Astrid hummed, the vibration traveling directly into his marrow. She increased the pace, her head bobbing faster, her tongue flicking across the sensitive underside of his cock with every downward stroke of her breasts.

"Astrid, I—" Hiccup’s voice cracked. "I’m not going to last two minutes like this."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes hooded and dark with a mix of lust and triumph. She didn't stop, only sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing as she created a powerful vacuum. At the same time, she ground her chest against him so hard he could feel her heartbeat through his own skin.

*Slurp. Pop.*

"Do it, Hiccup!" she urged, her voice a breathless rasp as she pulled away for a split second to breathe. "Give it to me! Fill my mouth!"

She dove back down, her tongue swirling in frantic, wet circles. The combination of the kneading breasts and the suction was too much. Hiccup felt the surge begin in his heels, a white-hot lightning bolt that raced up his spine.

"Astrid! I'm—"

He stiffened, his back arching so hard it pulled him off the tree. With a gutteral, half-strangled cry, he came. Thick, hot jets of cum erupted from him, splashing over her tongue and coating the pale, rounded tops of her breasts.

*Splat. Shloop.*

Astrid didn't flinch. She took every drop, her throat working as she swallowed, her hands never letting go of her chest as she squeezed the last of the seed from him. She stayed there for a long moment, the steam from his climax rising between them like a mist.

Slowly, she sat back on her heels, her face flushed a deep, healthy crimson. She looked down at her chest, where the white fluid was already beginning to cool against her skin. With a playful smirk, she dipped a finger into the pool between her breasts and tasted it.

"A bit salty," she joked, her voice light and clear again. "Must be all that fish you've been eating at the Great Hall."

Hiccup slumped against the tree, his legs feeling like they’d been replaced by wet noodles. He looked down at her—this incredible, terrifying, beautiful woman who was currently topless in a blizzard, covered in his cum and smiling like she’d just won the Thawfest Games.

"You are... absolutely insane," Hiccup panted, his heart still drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

"And you're still my baby." she countered, standing up and reaching for her tunic. She didn't bother cleaning herself up properly, just wiped a bit of the excess onto her hand and pulled the red fabric back over her breasts.

She looked down at him, her blonde braid frayed and wild, blue eyes sparkling with a predatory sort of mischief that usually meant she was about to challenge him to a race or a sparring match.

                Hiccup let out a weak laugh, trying to gather his dignity along with his scattered clothing. "I think the cold has finally rotted your brain, Hofferson. We have a village meeting in an hour. Stoick is going to wonder why his heir looks like he's been trampled by a Rumblehorn."

                Astrid paused, her hands hovering over the laces of her skirt. Her gaze drifted downward, settling on the center of Hiccup's lap. Despite his protests and the biting wind, his manhood remained stubbornly upright, a rigid testament to the effect she had on him. It twitched, a bead of clear fluid glistening at the tip like a pearl of mountain dew.

                "Oh," she whispered, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face. "It seems someone isn't quite finished yet."

                "It's just the... the adrenaline," Hiccup stammered, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled her tunic. "Natural reaction to the, uh, elements. Physics. Biology. It'll go away on its own."

                "Will it?" Astrid stepped back toward him, her fur-lined boots crunching softly on the snow. She dropped her tunic back to her waist, letting the cold air nip at her pale skin. "Because it looks incredibly lonely. And we wouldn't want the Chief's son to be uncomfortable during a long, boring lecture about fishing quotas, would we?"

                "Astrid, really, we have to go. My dad will—"

                "Your dad can wait," she interrupted, dropping back onto her knees between his thighs. Her hands, calloused from axe-work but surprisingly gentle, reached out to encircle his length. She squeezed, sliding her palm up the shaft until her thumb swiped over the sensitive head.

                Hiccup's back arched, his head hitting the furs with a muffled thud. "Astrid... that's... gods..."

                "Shh," she murmured, her voice dropping into a low, sultry growl. "I'm the one in charge of dragon training today. And you look like you need a very specific kind of discipline."

                She didn't give him a chance to respond. Astrid lifted herself, positioning her heat directly over him. The contrast was staggering; the icy air on his skin versus the molten warmth radiating from her core. She lowered herself slowly, the tip of his cock probing against her slick, swollen folds. With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed down, guiding him inside.

                The sound was wet and heavy—a distinct *shuck* as her tight walls yielded to his girth. Hiccup's eyes rolled back in his head. He felt every ridge of her internal muscles gripping him, welcoming him back into the furnace of her body.

                "Talk to me, Hiccup," she challenged, her voice strained as she settled fully onto him, her pelvis grinding against his. "Tell me how it feels to have me take you apart again."

                "It feels like... like I'm dying and being born at the same time," he groaned, his fingers digging into the soft loam and fur beneath him. "You're too hot. How are you this hot in the middle of a blizzard?"

                "Viking blood," she said, leaning forward to brush her lips against his ear. Her breasts dangled above his chest, the nipples hardened by the cold into dark, firm pebbles. "And I'm just getting started."

                She began to move, but it wasn't the kneading, swift pace from before. This was calculated. She rose up until only the head of his cock remained buried in her depths, then slid back down with agonizing slowness. She incorporated a circular motion, her hips swiveling in a way that made the friction near-unbearable.

                "Astrid, wait," Hiccup gasped, his hands flying up to grip her waist, trying to either steady her or push her faster. "If you do that... I won't last three minutes."

                "Then give me those three minutes," she whispered, her tongue darting out to lick a bead of sweat from his temple. "Make them count."

                She picked up the tempo slightly, her internal muscles pulsing in rhythmic waves that milked him with terrifying efficiency. Each downward thrust was punctuated by a wet, squelching sound, the air being forced out from between their bodies as they fused together. The scent of them—salt, musk, and the faint metallic tang of arousal—filled the small clearing.

                "Look at me," she commanded.

                Hiccup opened his eyes, finding her intense blue gaze. She was flushed, her chest heaving, a thin sheen of perspiration making her skin glow. She looked like a goddess of war claiming her prize.

                "You're so beautiful," he managed to choke out.

                "Flattery won't save you," she teased, though her eyes softened for a fraction of a second before she slammed her hips down hard. The impact made Hiccup's entire body jolt. "Tell me you're mine!"

                "I've been yours since we were sixteen, you crazy woman!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

                Astrid laughed, a triumphant, melodic sound that echoed through the trees. She increased the circular grind, her clitoris rubbing perfectly against the base of his shaft with every revolution. The friction was building to a flashpoint. Hiccup could feel the pressure mounting in his groin, a tidal wave of heat that threatened to dissolve his very bones.

                "I can't... I'm going to—"

                "Do it," she urged, her voice a ragged rasp. She leaned down, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss. Their tongues clashed, sharing saliva as her hips became a blur of motion. The wet slapping of her thighs against his hips sounded like a drumbeat to his undoing.

                Hiccup's vision began to grey at the edges. He felt the familiar, frantic twitching at the base of his spine. "Astrid!"

                He thrust upward, meeting her descent with a violent surge of his own. His cock buried itself so deep he felt her cervix dip against the head, a blunt, stunning impact. At that moment, his resolve shattered. His muscles locked, his toes curling into the snow as a massive geyser of semen erupted from him.

                Astrid felt it immediately—the hot, thick pulses of his climax filling her to the brim. She let out a long, high-pitched moan, her own body responding to the flood. Her walls clamped down in a series of violent, ecstatic spasms, milking every last drop of his essence. She collapsed forward, her head tucking into the crook of his neck, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps.

                Inside her, the sensation was messy and wonderful. She could feel the liquid slipping out as his erection began its slow decline, the air creating little *blurping* sounds as she shifted her weight.

                "There," she panted, her voice vibrating against his skin. "I think... I think I put it away."

                Hiccup lay there, staring up at the canopy of trees, his mind a complete blank. He felt drained, hollowed out, and utterly content. "You're... definitely... insane."

                "But?" she prompted, lifting her head to look at him, a smudge of dirt on her nose and a triumphant glimmer in her eyes.

                "But I wouldn't have it any other way," he admitted, reaching up to stroke a damp strand of hair from her face.

                They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sound the distant cry of a Monstrous Nightmare and the soft hiss of falling snow. The cold began to creep back in, reclaiming the warmth they had carved out for themselves.

                "We really do need to go," Hiccup said finally, his voice regaining some of its usual cadence. "Toothless is probably wondering if a bear ate me."

                Astrid rolled off him, the separation accompanied by a wet, suction-like sound that made them both chuckle. She sat up, her thighs streaked with the evidence of their afternoon. "Toothless knows you're with me. He's probably laughing at you."

                "Hilarious," Hiccup muttered, reaching for his prosthetic. He buckled the leather straps with trembling fingers, his coordination still a bit off. "You know, one of these days, my dad is going to find us, and I'm going to have to explain why the future Chief of Berk is naked in a snowbank."

                "Just tell him it's a new form of endurance training," Astrid suggested, pulling her leggings back on. She stood up and stretched, her spine popping. "Building up resistance to the elements. Very Viking."

                Hiccup stood up, shaking the snow from his tunic and pulling it over his head. He looked at the spot where they had been—the flattened ferns, the melted snow, the lingering scent. It felt like a secret sanctuary, a world away from the responsibilities of leadership and the constant threat of dragon hunters.

                "You're a menace, Astrid Hofferson," he said, stepping over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

                She leaned back into him, her head resting against his chest. "And you love it."

                "I do," he sighed. "Now, let's get back before Snotlout starts trying to make decisions for the village. The last time that happened, we ended up with a statue of him in the middle of the plaza."

She reached down, grabbing his hand and hauling him up. He stumbled, his legs feeling like jelly, and leaned against her. Her shoulder was solid as a rock, a sharp contrast to the soft, pillowy warmth he’d just been buried in.

    "Seriously though," Hiccup said, leaning in to kiss her. Their lips met, tasting of each other, their saliva thick and sweet. "What are we gonna tell Stoick?"

    Astrid shrugged, a mischievous light returning to her eyes as she began to lead him back toward the village. "Tell them we were attacked by a Very Large, Very Pink Dragon. It pinned you down. You had no choice but to surrender."

    Hiccup chuckled, wrapping an arm around her broad waist, his fingers barely meeting over the swell of her hip. "A Very Large Dragon, huh? I think I can sell that. Especially if I tell them it had a really great personality."

    "Hey!" She bumped her hip against him, nearly knocking him into a snowdrift. "Watch it, Haddock, or I’ll sit on you again."

    "Is that a threat or a promise?"