She watches.

Slicked fingers prepare her husband. The unfamiliar penetration unnerves him, draining all sorts of winces from his throat. Pained expressions warp his handsome face. As his mouth is snapped ajar, she stares at the tiny gap between his teeth that she's always found so endearing.

"Does it hurt? I don't want to hurt you," Eret murmurs, nervously. His hair had been tied back before they began. Locks of silken tresses come undone, tumbling down his shoulders; broad, wide shoulders accompanied with powerful arms and wow, Astrid thinks, he's gifted with quite the impressive build.

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Hiccup smiles at Astrid and any doubts she had about this tryst wanes, entirely. She leans forward to kiss him on his open mouth. Thick digits, twist, curl, and hook forward at just the right angle and Hiccup gasps against her lips. He sits in Eret's lap, with his back against the older man's taut belly.

Eret coils frontward, his hardness brushing along Hiccup's backside, whispering—hushed as not to startle—"Do you like that?"

"Obviously," Hiccup exhales, lewdly, clutching at the sheets hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Right," Eret falters. "Right, um, oh gods, Hiccup, you're really—"

He turns to Astrid, as if seeking approval (her idea, after all), wholly unabashed when her fingers creep along pale, shapely, opened thighs.

"He's really quite lovely, I mean, so are you. You both are."

"Show him, don't tell," Astrid orders, with bated breath.

So he does.

Eret reaches for Hiccup's chin, smothering him with a bruising kiss. Lips beaded with sweat drag against one another. A sound—what may as well be a stifled sob—rings beautifully in her ears when Eret prods his tongue deeper inside Hiccup's mouth. Another finger works its way inside the untouched ring of muscle.

The view bestowed upon Astrid is an utterly shameless one: her betrothed moans, riding Eret's fingers, carefully, whimpering when Eret tears his mouth away to devour every inch of freckled skin he deems irresistible. Steady hands knot and thread through auburn hair. Teeth graze his neck. Eret growls as he bites down on Hiccup's collarbones. Lips move to suckle on a pliable earlobe.

A free hand teases the pliant skin along Hiccup's stomach, tracing the hairs, following the path that takes him lower, lower until it pumps his erection.

The sight of firm, angular and masculine shapes writhing together resigns Astrid to a primal hunger. Her need throbs and it's a painful, vindictive ache that says she's waited long enough: it's too arousing, too foreign, and yet it's still not nearly enough.

Astrid pleases herself; readies her opening so her husband can enter her with ease. Her own fingers slide into heat that's begging to be probed.

As she touches herself, she observes her husband as he squirms and bucks on top of the weight of another man. It propels a sharp rush of blood into her already burning sex; the sensation is scorching enough to stir a wildfire.

"I'm ready," Hiccup announces, hoarsely.

Eret stumbles, slightly, as he lowers them both, lightly, until folds himself over Hiccup. Now looming over her, Hiccup's breath tickles her cheekbones. The married couple kisses, signaling the commencement of lovemaking.

Astrid tightens with anticipation. There are low groans tumbling from Eret's parted mouth as he buries his length inside her husband, who cries out, then sheathing himself in her soaking need.

Astrid has never heard Hiccup yelp during intercourse. He's made plenty of enticing sounds, but never a desperate, disjointed stream of whines. She decides that she loves the way his abdomen brushes against her, dripping with moisture, chafing her swollen, sensitive folds. Astrid adores the way Eret's heavy brow crinkles in absorption. Two stunning men are at the mercy of her orchestration.

"Pretty lads like you love being filled up, don't they?" Eret hisses. He snakes his arms around the lanky torso quavering within his hold.

Astrid is shocked that Hiccup can even manage a response, but by all means, she wants to holler, yes, Eret, please keep talking to him like that.

"Y-yeah," Hiccup gasps, swift movements heaving him forward. The penetration jerks and convulses Astrid's body. She can feel her toes curling. "Just, ah, just a little."

"Do you like making love to your woman while I take you from behind?"

"Yes," Hiccup wails. "Yes, yes, oh, Frejya, yes."

Every time Eret's cock grazes his prostate, he cries out, bites down on her shoulder, and slams his hips against hers in frantic, unmeasured paces. Hiccup is the first time come out of the three. The assault on his prostate sucks air from his lungs and sends him reeling for air. He thrusts into hot, tight, wetness and both movements on either end of him wreak too much havoc on his core.

The others reach their climax but nothing compares to the way Hiccup's jaw unhinges as one last thrust from behind sends him into a thrashing, garbled mess that prays for the gods to take pity on his fatigued resolve.

Astrid comes again. It begins with small tremors of pleasure that rapidly turn to waves of stupefying delight that dizzies her, blurring her vision. The sheer prospect of peering up, gazing into half lidded eyes, dries her mouth quickly. She tries to gain proper salivation with an arid tongue but even that proves to be challenging.

Astrid fixates on the two men from above, as they collapse on either side of her. She's pleased to see that her scheme has rendered them both incoherent.