[ Jack wishes he could paint him like this, spread open and flushed, wracked with borderline pleasure-pain ... On that note, Jack digs his fingertips right over that same spot to garner more of those needy gasps. Hiccup is right, he's wanted with a ferocity that made Jack miserable for as long as he couldn't tell him and had to pretend there was nothing there, living in the same room and wondering what would happen if he slipped over and awoke him with his mouth. Jack's an artist and he wants to warp Hiccup's body into as many positions as possible, discover if he has as many expressions as his skin does embarrassed shades of red.
He thinks about Elsa wanting to be here for this, during their first time, and he's almost viciously possessive enough to consider putting another lock on the door. Jack hasn't had many things in his life and he wants Hiccup to belong to him so much it aches; him, first and foremost.
A third finger pushes in, taut pink muscle almost trying to keep him out but Jack takes those gasps as his cue to keep going, bowed over a prone body so as to kiss over a heart. ]
You can take it, Hic, I know you can. You're doing so well ...
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He thinks about Elsa wanting to be here for this, during their first time, and he's almost viciously possessive enough to consider putting another lock on the door. Jack hasn't had many things in his life and he wants Hiccup to belong to him so much it aches; him, first and foremost.
A third finger pushes in, taut pink muscle almost trying to keep him out but Jack takes those gasps as his cue to keep going, bowed over a prone body so as to kiss over a heart. ]
You can take it, Hic, I know you can. You're doing so well ...