A/N: Dual-prompt fill for Tumblr's "I Want the K" meme, #1 (hot, steamy kiss) and #10 (neck kiss). Because I am all over this pairing, as is likely obvious by this point.

"Always and Everything"

Kristoff has never felt like this before. Never.

Well, all right, certainly he's felt like this before, his body thrumming with excitement and a low, steady undercurrent of just-barely-fettered pleasure, Anna's petite frame held tight in his arms, her lips warm and soft against his…

…but he's never felt quite so… this. So urgent, open, raw.

He hadn't seen her in a week's time, even though he'd thought of her as he climbed above the tree line, as he crossed into the frozen mountains, as he split and hauled and moved about the ice and his life's work suddenly seemed somehow less desirable than Anna's gentle smile, her bright laughter, her awkward, clumsy embrace. Even as his heart warmed at the sight of her as she bounded through the castle gates to greet him, his body grew hot, needy, desperate to touch her.

Here, now, isolated in her room, unchaperoned and scandalous but oh so beautiful, Anna moans lightly beneath him as he presses her back into the chaise. Her hands are tangled in his hair, his fisted in the fabric at the back of her dress as he slants his lips heatedly over hers, catching her bottom lip in his teeth and biting down, hard enough to feel, to register and shoot through her with a sharp spike of desire, before sliding his tongue gently over the hurt.

Anna tilts her head, leans into him, deepens and presses and slips her tongue against his, languid and lingering, and he moves his hands to her lower back and pulls her more tightly against him. Her legs are wrapped around his hips, flush, and Kristoff knows it's surely indecent, the way they must look all tangled together like this, but he doesn't much care, and he's fairly certain Anna doesn't, either.

He pulls away from the kiss, slow and moist as their lips part, and slides one hand up between her shoulderblades, dips her back and dips his head and takes her pulse point between his teeth.

Anna gasps, and he stops, desire momentarily dampened by the fear that he's hurt her (he'll never hurt her, never), but she shakes her head and tugs at his hair, pleading, and he smiles at her, slow and easy, eyes dark as he lowers his head again, sucking hard against the soft skin of her neck as she mewls and writhes against him, his length pressed tight to the space between her thighs, her skin against his lips and everything is Anna, Anna's soft, warm skin and Anna's subtle floral scent and Anna's beautiful, keening voice, and there is nothing, nothing else in his world that matters but her.

No, he has never felt this way before.

But he is unspeakably, endlessly grateful that he does now, and only, always with her.