mistletoe meme comment with your character bam, now your character is under some mistletoe. no moving until you lock lips with someone. easy as it sounds.
[ It does, and it might also be the reason for a hitched breath. Hiccup slides his hands down to the curve of old suede and drags Jack in by the ass, flush against him so the kiss bends the spirit back with the ensuing hungry press into something more. Deeper, he seeks to warm him up from the inside-out, hot puffs of breath fanning over a cool cheek. ]
[There's almost a surprised muffling hum when those hands slip low and pull him in, but his thoughts shift to focus elsewhere more concerned with keeping Hiccup well entertained. For a guy who's so used to the cold, low temperatures of Berk, he'll make sure that it's clear there isn't a chill quite like the one that slips between shared breath, or like the frost that dampens auburn hair when fingers settle there, tangling through messy braids. Though it's mainly to tease, much preferring that endless warmth that Hiccup's kiss more than provides.]
[ He's never tasted frost this fresh before and not just because he isn't in the ridiculous habit of licking whatever happens to be covered in it. Jack can be warmed up, although the process is slow and languid with more stroking of tongues than he'd usually use, he can't say he minds (especially when the rocking of hips reveals itself as a subtle tandem to the slick muscle running under his own). It becomes a delightful duty to lend him his body-heat in every way possible.
Jack's skin is still cold even by the time his mouth is lukewarm, so Hiccup licks and nips his way along a jawline to pour hot breaths down the neck of a hoodie too, wet-hot lips fastening over where a pulse should be. ]
[The sensations of touch might always be in some ways foreign to Jack, but Hiccup makes for a rather perfect guide, every pressing of mouths, parting of lips, collision of tongues — it all comes so natural as though their mixing of temperatures has somehow allowed them to move on the same wavelength in their kisses.
But it still doesn't make Jack any less surprised when suddenly those lips vanish from his own, suddenly sensing a heated trail of breath working down to melt his skin, his neck growing slightly damp with frost as Hiccup finds new territory to burn up with an eager mouth.
He had explained mistletoes to him before, how you were meant to kiss the person you're caught with underneath. But he never specified that usually kisses were limited to mouth-to-mouth, which either the Viking has clearly misunderstood or he doesn't care. When Jack tugs at his hair, however, it's more to guide those lips to wander, rather than to pull them away.]
[ What kind of proper kiss is only limited to mouth-to-mouth? One that Hiccup doesn't care to play by the rules of.
His grip slides up to Jack's hips and tightens as he allows the fingers wreathed through his hair to guide him down the tendons of a throat. When he feels a tremor in Jack's reaction, lips passing over the epicentre of an erogenous inch or two, he widens his jaw and clamps down on it. Lightly, to still play fair, but he pricks the sensitive patch of skin between buckteeth and a low noise vibrates over his tongue as he simply holds Jack there, a prisoner of a playful lovebite being sucked above and kneaded below. ]
[It takes an incredible talent to make a winter spirit shiver, but Hiccup does it with ease, each suckle of lips getting him trembling as he curls bare toes against the ground. He's definitely far more sensitive than he likes to admit, but with three hundred years of only knowing the cold touch of one's own skin, it's hard not to react so easily to such tempting warmth.
That sucking bite prompts an involuntary whimper, tightening his grip at the back of that mess of hair.]
I'll get you for that.
[Not that he makes a move to stop it. But a hand does slip lower to settle at a collar, slipping fingers beneath to let frost trickle from the tips down over a bare back.]
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Jack's skin is still cold even by the time his mouth is lukewarm, so Hiccup licks and nips his way along a jawline to pour hot breaths down the neck of a hoodie too, wet-hot lips fastening over where a pulse should be. ]
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But it still doesn't make Jack any less surprised when suddenly those lips vanish from his own, suddenly sensing a heated trail of breath working down to melt his skin, his neck growing slightly damp with frost as Hiccup finds new territory to burn up with an eager mouth.
He had explained mistletoes to him before, how you were meant to kiss the person you're caught with underneath. But he never specified that usually kisses were limited to mouth-to-mouth, which either the Viking has clearly misunderstood or he doesn't care. When Jack tugs at his hair, however, it's more to guide those lips to wander, rather than to pull them away.]
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His grip slides up to Jack's hips and tightens as he allows the fingers wreathed through his hair to guide him down the tendons of a throat. When he feels a tremor in Jack's reaction, lips passing over the epicentre of an erogenous inch or two, he widens his jaw and clamps down on it. Lightly, to still play fair, but he pricks the sensitive patch of skin between buckteeth and a low noise vibrates over his tongue as he simply holds Jack there, a prisoner of a playful lovebite being sucked above and kneaded below. ]
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That sucking bite prompts an involuntary whimper, tightening his grip at the back of that mess of hair.]
I'll get you for that.
[Not that he makes a move to stop it. But a hand does slip lower to settle at a collar, slipping fingers beneath to let frost trickle from the tips down over a bare back.]