#caaaal

Elsa considers it for a moment, then slides back up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then her lips are on his, warm and soft, the tip of her tongue probing at his lips until he parts them. Then it's running along the edge of his teeth and playing with his own tongue until he can't hold back a moan. When they pull apart, foreheads resting together, Elsa smiles.

"How was that for a prize?"

Alarik kisses the tip of her nose. "It was very nice. But I wouldn't say no to a few more…"

They kiss again, a little harder this time, a bit more desperate. Elsa's fingers play with the soft hairs at the base of his neck, her nails scratching lightly. He runs his hand up and down her spine, delighting in the shiver it produces. 

Alarik realizes how much he missed this- the unhurried pace, the chance to explore one another's bodies. The slow warmth spreading inside him is a welcome balm to the exhaustion and stress he'd been experiencing for the past few months, and he wants to make sure to enjoy it as long as possible.

But he needs her clothes out of the way.

Elsa has the same idea, for she pulls away, pressing one last kiss on his lips as she finds the buttons of his worn flannel pajamas, working each one loose. He watches, knowing just how much she enjoys doing this, only moving to pull free of the flannel when she finishes. Elsa runs her fingers through the curls on his chest, giving them a gentle tug every so often. Alarik shudders when her fingers brush his nipples, and he can't hold back any longer.

His hand seeks and finds the hem of her nightshirt- an old shirt of his- and starts to tug it up. Elsa helps on the right side where he cannot grip, and soon she's bare before him. He takes in a sharp breath, astounded as always by her remarkable beauty. The changes of pregnancy have only made her even more striking in his eyes. 

It's his turn to touch her now, his hand trailing across her collarbone and down, sliding through the valley between her breasts and coming to rest on the swell of her stomach. He spreads out his fingers, spanning as much of it as he can. He can't help himself- ever since she'd begun to show two months ago, he loved feeling the physical evidence of the baby growing inside her. 

A soft groan made him look up to see Elsa wincing, one hand going to her back. 

"Spasm," she grunts by way of explanation. 

"Here, roll over."

Elsa does as he instructed, and Alarik presses his hand against her back, massaging the knot he feels until it loosens and Elsa sighs in relief. As she relaxes, Alarik trails his hand to her front, pulling himself so she's lying pressed against him once more, and he can resume tracing patterns on her skin. Their new position has placed him within easy reach of her ear, and Alarik wastes no time in taking advantage of that. 

Elsa whimpers when his lips meet the special spot behind her ear, a sound he relishes. He uses his tongue to trace the outer curve, then suckles the skin there, making her arch against him. Meanwhile, he cups a breast in his hand, circling the areola with his thumb and occasionally giving the nipple a flick. He repeats this with the other breast, then pinches the nipple, enjoying Elsa's breathy sigh. 

As he plays with her breast, Alarik continues to attend to the spot behind her ear, then continuing down her neck to her collarbone. He spends some time sucking at her pulse point, feeling it speed up with his ministrations. Elsa tilts her head to give him better access, while one of her hands cups the stump of his wrist, stroking the skin there. She's soft and pliable, and he can tell she's still a bit drowsy, so he keeps his pace slow and steady, letting her pleasure build gradually. 

Eventually he traces his hand down, tracing it back and forth as he does, enjoying the shivers that follow. Elsa was sensitive before she got pregnant, but now it's increased so much more. He keeps going lower, pausing to circle his thumb at her hip bone. Elsa knows what he's doing, and presses against him in a silent request, one he cannot deny her.

A slow slide to the patch of curls between her legs, and his fingers seek, then find, the wet warmth there. He draws one through her folds, from bottom to top, ending by swirling around her nub. She moans, her fingers tightening around his stump, and he shifts that too, bringing it to her breasts, rubbing them the best he can. 

He lingers at her bud, tracing lazy patterns, keeping his touch light. He dips his middle finger into her center, not quite enough, he knows, but he wants to draw this out. They'd had their share of hard and fast during his project. He wants their time to last.

Elsa stretches languidly against him, lifting and resting her stump on his leg to give him better access. He adds a second finger, seeking the rough patch that will give her further pleasure. When he finds it and starts to rub, Elsa gives a soft cry, her fingers tightening around his stump, pulling him in closer. 

"That's it, just enjoy it." He nuzzles her neck, giving the skin a gentle nip. "I've missed you. I've missed you so much, darling."

"Me too…" Her voice is soft and drowsy, but there's a husky tinge to it. She rocks against his hand, but he keeps his pace slow and even. Still, he can tell she's close. Her walls are twitching, and she's trembling, panting, until it has her. 

She arches, taut as a bow, her fingers digging into his stump. His name leaves her in an ecstatic cry as her walls pulse around his fingers, trying to draw them in further. Alarik doesn't stop his movements- he increases them instead to coax a second orgasm onto the heels of the first. Only when she gasps and pulls at his hand does he relent, carefully pulling free, although even that is enough to make her whimper. 

"Sorry." He whispers.

Elsa shakes her head, her body slowly relaxing. She releases his stump and rolls over to face him once more, her face flushed but satisfied. 

"I'm alright, just sensitive. Give me a second."

"Of course."

He brushes some stray hairs from her face, then smooths her hair down her back, watching her breathing slow. Eventually she reaches up to cup his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble, and pulls herself up to press her lips to his. It's a slow kiss, as they spend more time exploring one another's mouths, tongues playing together. 

Elsa's hands start wandering over his body, playing with his chest hair, then following it down his torso until she comes to rest at the waistband of his boxers. They pull apart, and Elsa smirks at him before running a finger over the telltale bulge in the fabric. Alarik tenses and sucks in a sharp breath. 

Elsa hooks her fingers onto the waistband and pulls the boxes down, freeing his erection. She takes it in her hand, tracing the veins and weeping tip, while he grunts and grabs a fistful of the sheets.

"Elsa… I'm not going to last too long if you keep doing that… unless you want to do it that way…"

She shakes her head, lifting her leg to rest on his and drawing him against her folds. "No. I want you. Inside."

He groans at her words, his knuckles going white as she guides him inside. He has to draw deep breaths as he slides in- she's so wet, and warm, and tight, and it's a delicious agony with each inch he goes. To distract himself, he finds her lips again, kissing her with fervor. She isn't doing much better, he can tell. Her body trembles, and she moans against his lips, pressing against him as he finally buries himself fully within her. 

They stay like that for a minute or so, parting so that they can pant and steady themselves. Once Alarik feels he has better control of his need, he gives an experimental rock of his hips, both of them sighing happily at the movement. 

"Okay?"

Elsa responds by sliding a hand down to his butt, giving it a firm squeeze and causing his hips to buck. 

"More, please."

"Of course."

He pulls back, just the tip inside her, then presses himself in fully with one motion. His hand seeks and finds her nub once more, and within moments he has a steady rhythm going.

"Oh… Alarik…" Elsa's fingers dig into his backside- they're sure to leave marks, but the pain only serves to drive his pleasure even further. He kisses her jaw, her neck, anywhere he can reach. She buries her head in his neck, nipping his skin, making him hiss. 

Unlike before, there is nothing slow in their lovemaking. They chase their release, pressing into one another, trembling and groaning…

Elsa's head falls back as she cries out his name, body tense and walls pulsing. He tumbles after her, pressing his hips as close to her as he can, pumping hot spurts deep within her until he has nothing left to give. 

They collapse against one another, clutching and panting until they are able to relax. Alarik pushes Elsa's sweat-soaked hair free of her forehead, and she does the same for his curls. He shifts to give her some room to cool off, sliding free of her while doing so. Elsa makes a small noise of complaint at the loss, and he rubs her hip until she smiles.

"I'd almost forgotten how good it is to go slow," Alarik murmurs, using his knuckles to caress her skin. 

"I missed that. We both needed it." Elsa cuddles against him, and he wraps his arm around her, sighing in contentment.

They'll have to get up soon enough to clean up. But for now they can savor this moment. 

Nøkk exploded into a gallop, sending snow flying. Elsa could just hear Anna's exhilarated cry over the pounding of hooves, and she found herself grinning. This was what she lived for- the rush, the feeling of sheer power beneath her as Nøkk ran. 

There was no better feeling. 

The end was in sight- just two more jumps left. Elsa knew they had made good time, could feel the rope sliding easily back and forth- Anna was moving well. 

Something slid in front of Nøkk.

A person rushed forward.

And everything went to hell.

…….

"I don't get it."

Despite the fact she was currently walking in front of him, Alarik swore he could hear Beata's exasperated sigh. 

"You don't get what, Beowulf?"

"Why anyone in their right mind would want to do ski…jumping."

"Skijoring."

"That too. You're tying yourself to a one-ton animal-"

"Half-ton. No one uses draft horses for this. And the skiers aren't tied to the horses, they just hold a rope."

Alarik rolled his eyes. "Does it really make a difference? You're still attaching yourself to a large, potentially dangerous animal, running at high speeds, all while strapped to two thin pieces of- whatever skis are made of. Why!?"

This time, Alarik knew he heard Beata's sigh. "Because it's fun, Alarik. That's why. Not everyone finds enjoyment tinkering in a lab all day. Some people actually enjoy doing something fun."

"I do enjoy fun activities! Just not ones that could end in grievous injury!"

Beata just rolled her eyes. "Look, all you have to do is watch while I take pictures. And maybe try to enjoy yourself a bit.”

Someone called Beata's name, and she hurried away, calling "I'll be right back!" over her shoulder. 

Alarik wandered up to the fence, watching another skijoring pair fly by. The skill involved was impressive, and he had to admit watching the event was fun. Being involved in it was an entirely different matter. 

A steady beeping caught his attention, and he looked down to see the battery light on his arm flashing a warning red. Alarik cursed, looking around for some place that might have an outlet. Hadn't he charged it last night? Or had he forgotten? He tugged on the arm to pull it off. 

Someone jostled him from behind just as the arm slipped free, and his hand inadvertently opened. The momentum sent the prosthetic flying right out onto the track.

Alarik didn't hesitate, didn't stop to think about what he was doing. The flimsy plastic netting that formed the fence offered no real barrier, and he was out on the track in seconds. Only when he grabbed his prosthetic and finally registered panicked screaming from behind him did Alarik realize just how grave of an error he'd made.

The horse charging down the track may not have weighed a ton, but it was more than heavy enough to injure him badly. Perhaps even kill him. 

Alarik knew there was no way he could move out of the way in time. Even if he could, his body had seized up, only allowing him to watch in terror as the horse bore down. 

The horse, at least, seemed to have much more sense than he did. With a snort, it swerved to one side, missing Alarik by mere inches. Snow was tossed into his face, and the smell of sweat wafted by him, and then it was over. 

He was still alive.

A scream split the air. 

………

Nøkk tried to clear the jump. 

Elsa didn't even have enough time to pull on the reins before Nøkk lunged to one side, just barely clearing him. She didn't have much time to be relieved, however, as his new path took him directly onto a ski jump. 

Nøkk was no stranger to jumping, but they were both rattled, and he was off stride. His legs must have caught on the snow, as his whole front dropped, and Elsa was thrown over his head and onto the ground below.

The impact drove the breath from her lungs, but before she could process it, a massive weight landed on her shoulder, and something inside cracked.

If Elsa had the breath to scream, she would have. 

……….

Even from where he was sprawled, ten feet away, Alarik could hear the rider's bone break.

He scrambled to his feet, ice making him uncoordinated, and stumbled over to the pair. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do, but he needed to help somehow. 

The horse was up first, the whites of its eyes flashing, its nostrils flaring. The rider's foot was caught in the stirrup, and she was being dragged with each frantic movement the horse made. 

Alarik knew little to nothing about handling horses, nevertheless, he started forward, pressing the now-dead prosthetic onto his stump. He raised his hands, one curled into a useless fist. 

"Easy, easy…"

"Get out of the way!"

Someone pushed Alarik to the side, grabbing the horse's reins. He realized it was the skier, and within moments, she had the horse under control. By that point, the rider's foot had fallen free. 

No, not her foot. 

Her leg. Or rather, the upper half of her left leg, one that stopped midway down the calf. The rest was a prosthetic, still clinging to the stirrup. 

Alarik crouched by the rider's side, getting a good look at her for the first time. Pale blonde hair sprawled beneath her helmet, and icy blue eyes gazed into his own. He reached out, only to have his hand smacked away.

"Don't you dare touch her!"

The skier was crouched beside the rider, and Alarik could see the clear resemblance between the two- save for the skier's hair being as red as his own. 

"I was trying to help…"

"Help!? You shouldn't have even been on the track in the first place! What the hell were you thinking!?"

"I got bumped when I was trying to check my arm. It went onto the track. I…"

The skier glanced at his arm, and shook her head, making a shooing gesture. 

"Just… go."

Alarik felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Beata. She jerked her head to the side, and he allowed himself to be led back to the sidelines.

"That was… stupid."

"I know."

Alarik glanced back to see an ambulance had arrived. The EMTs were loading the rider onto the stretcher, while a tall, broad man led the horse away. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered as the rider was loaded into the ambulance. 

As if she'd somehow heard him, she turned and locked eyes with him.

…….

"Nøkk? Is…he..alright?"

The pain in Elsa's arm made concentrating difficult, and speech near impossible. But she had to know. 

"He's fine." Anna's hand rested on her good shoulder. "Kristoff has him right now. But you're not."

Elsa grunted. She could hear the approaching ambulance. She didn't want to go to the hospital, but she knew there was no choice. 

As she was loaded onto the stretcher- a process that jostled her injured arm and made her yell- her head flopped to the side, and she caught sight of the man who had caused everything. Bright green eyes locked into her own, and she could see the apology written on his face.

Then she was sliding into the ambulance, and the man's face was replaced by metal walls.