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Kristoff shouldered through the door of the cabin and kicked it shut behind him with so much force that the heavy wooden frame shuddered. Anna found herself dumped unceremoniously out of his arms onto the fur rug that lay in front of the hearth, where banked embers were quickly coaxed into full flame as Kristoff hastily built up the fire into a blaze almost too large for the fireplace to contain. That done, he tossed his gloves aside, turned to Anna, and began to strip the clothes from her body.
He didn’t give her time to help, not that her cold-clumsy fingers would have done much good—he just tugged each garment from her with ruthless efficiency and flung them aside, the sodden fabric striking the wall with a wet slap each time until Anna was bare and pale and shivering in the firelight. Once he had her naked Kristoff began running his hands over her, rubbing her chilled skin briskly.
“What,” he demanded roughly, “did you think you were doing?”
"I was j-just exploring!" Her chattering teeth made Anna stutter, and he practically shoved her closer to the fire, rubbing more vigorously.
"In a snowstorm.”
"It wasn’t storming when I went out!"
"It wasn’t storming yet. I told you to stay inside.”
"You didn’t tell me it was going to storm!"
"I didn’t realize I needed to tell you because I didn’t realize you were going to wander off like anidiot!" His hands grasped her shoulders, shaking her like a child, and Anna felt her temper flare up, making her flush with anger and jerk away from him, starting to scramble to her feet.
"Don’t yell at me!” He caught hold of her and Anna squirmed. “Let go, I’m going home.”
"You are not going down the mountain naked in a snowstorm." His arms trapped her against him, the leather and fur and wool of his clothes rough against her bare skin. His clothes were only damp from the layer of clinging snowflakes that was melting in the heat from the fire—he hadn’t gotten soaked to the skin, because he hadn’t fallen into a stream camouflaged beneath a thin layer of ice and blown snow, and then gotten stuck in a snow drift higher than his head, which was where he had found her.
She’d had enough sense of humor to smile at him when he pulled her out. “Hi,” she’d said, but instead of smiling back, or hugging her, or even looking glad to see her he’d just stared at her for a second and then picked her up in a hard grip and stomped back to the cabin with her. He hadn’t said a word until he started yelling at her. The injustice made Anna yank hard against his hold again.
"If I can’t go home then I’ll spend the night with Sven, let me go.”
She yelped as he pushed her down onto the fur, pinning her beneath him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
Anna stared up at him, suddenly intensely aware of his strength in a way she had never been before. She knew he was strong—she took advantage of the fact often, asking him to pick her up, to catch her, to lift things for her while she admired the play of muscle in his arms and shoulders, but always before he’d been using that strength for her benefit. He’d never used it on her.
She squirmed, but he was unyielding, his hands pinning her wrists on either side of her head in an unbreakable grip. It wasn’t a tight grip, he wasn’t hurting her, but it was firm and none of her struggles made him move even the slightest bit. His body was a hard barrier over her, every muscle tight and tense. His jaw was tense too, his mouth hard, and Anna was as breathless as if she’d been punched in the stomach. In some inexplicable way this was not the man who was always gentle, the man who sang ridiculous songs to himself when he thought no one could hear him, whose face softened into a warm grin when he saw her. There was no softness in this man—this was a man of the mountains, a man shaped by wind and stone and ice and snow. The only soft thing here was her.
For some reason she felt a fierce blush burn in her cheeks, a blush that had nothing to do with anger, and she tried to look away but he caught her chin in one rough, calloused hand.
"Look at me, Anna." His eyes were intent, focused, and Anna felt like a rabbit under the stare of a plunging eagle. "This is not the castle. This is not the gardens, or the town, or the hills. This is the mountain, Anna. You cannot go out on your own here.”
"But I’m fine," she whispered. She didn’t seem to have enough air in her lungs. "I knew you would find me."
"And what if I hadn’t, Anna? What if I hadn’t come back for another hour, two hours? What if I hadn’t come back until it was too dark to look for you? What if I hadn’t found your hat, and I’d gone looking in the other direction first? What if I hadn’t found you until tomorrow, or the next day?" His hands dug into her damp hair, loosening braids that were already half unraveled and cupping her face firmly. "Anna, do you have any idea what it would do to me to find you cold and still? To be too late again?"
Her eyes widened with understanding, and she realized that his fingers were trembling. She lifted her freed hands to touch his shoulders hesitantly, shoulders that were tense with the anger that comes from overwhelming fear. “Kristoff….”
His mouth pressed against hers, hard and hot and insistent, his tongue pressing demandingly between her lips. When he pulled back she could feel his quick, ragged breathing, heard her own faint whimper, and he let his head bow, resting his forehead against hers.
"It would kill me, Anna," he said simply. "It would destroy me completely."
Anna’s hands curled around his shoulders, clinging to him, felt hard, firm hands press her close to him as he kissed her again. His clothes were chilly and coarse against her skin, making her feel somehow more soft, more fragile—she didn’t belong in this dangerous world, in his world, and the thought made her suddenly sob in the back of her throat. Kristoff’s body curled around her in response and he kissed her harder, until the image that she’d had of him vanishing into the snow and wind and leaving her behind was overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth. There wasn’t softness in his kiss, or gentleness in his touch, not this time, but there was firmness. There was strength, tempered and controlled. There was safety.
Kristoff lifted his head, gazing down at her with dark eyes. The firelight played over his face, casting harsh shadows over the strong nose, the hard jaw, the firm lips. He put one broad hand on either side of her shoulders so that he could lean over her, his knees just touching her hips. Anna felt a quivering in her stomach, like the shiver of a frightened animal, but she wasn’t afraid.
"Anna." His voice wasn’t harsh, wasn’t loud, but it was deep and low and Anna felt the tremble in her stomach start to spread to the rest of her body. Her eyes closed and he touched her chin, tilting her head back slightly, so when her eyes fluttered open again she was caught by the intensity of his gaze. "I need you to be safe," he told her. "When we’re here, when we’re in the mountains, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"
She nodded, her hand lifting to curl around his strong wrist, and he turned his hand to catch hers, lacing his fingers with hers and carefully pressing the back of her hand down on the fur rug, an echo of the way he’d pinned her beneath him before.
"I need you to do what I tell you." His voice was a deep rumble and Anna felt an answering shudder roll up her spine. She nodded again, her eyes wide. He bent over her, so close that their noses almost touched, and she could feel his warm breath brush across her lips when he spoke. "I need you to trust me." The hand clasping hers squeezed lightly. "Do you trust me, Anna?"
She nodded, staring up into his eyes, but he kept waiting until she swallowed hard and spoke. “Yes.”
His glance flickered away from her face and down her body, pale and vulnerable beneath him. Anna saw his eyes darken, saw something sensual touch the set of his mouth. His look moved back to her face and she swallowed again.
"Will you listen to me?"
"Yes," she whispered.
He leaned down so that his lips hovered just above hers. “Will you follow my instructions?”
Anna’s voice was a breathless gasp. “Yes.”
Kristoff rewarded her with a hard kiss on her soft mouth, but then he moved back from her, sitting on his heels in shadow just outside of the light from the fire, leaving her alone on the dark fur of the rug.
"Kristoff?"
"Shhh. You said you would listen." She could still see the gleam of his eyes in the shadow, watching her. Anna bit her lip and nodded. "I want you to show me that you can listen, that you can have self control. Can you do that, Anna?" She nodded again, and saw his mouth curve faintly. "Good girl. Lie back."
She lay back against the fur, her hair damp and disheveled around her bare shoulders, and felt herself shiver despite the fire that filled the small room with heat. When Kristoff spoke his deep voice seemed to fill the room in the same way, curling around her. “Put your hands on yourself.”
Her fingers hovered, hesitating. “W-where?”
"On your stomach." She obeyed, feeling her hands trembling slightly. Apparently he could see, because he moved close enough to brush his fingertips over her hair. "Relax, Anna. Close your eyes. Trust me." She let her eyes slide shut, nodding, and felt his calloused thumb stroke over her cheek before hearing the rustle of clothing as he moved away again. Anna breathed out slowly, trying to relax her shoulders into the soft fur. "That’s my girl. Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then move your hands, slowly. Down over your hips, then back up to your ribs. Again—slower, Anna. I want you to feel yourself. Do you feel how soft your skin is? Like silk."
She whimpered in the back of her throat, wondering if he could hear the soft shush of skin brushing skin over the crackle of the fire. He certainly heard the whimper.
"Do you like the way you feel, Anna?"
"I like…I like your hands better," she murmured, feeling herself flush.
A smirk tinted his voice. “Is that so? Where do you like my hands to be?”
"Mm…on…on my breasts."
"Then touch yourself there. Show me what you like me to do."
Her hands slipped up to cup the soft curves, squeezing gently, fingertips toying with the peaks that were already tight and aching. With her eyes closed, Kristoff’s voice was almost like a physical touch, directing her to pinch, to roll the stiff buds between her fingers until she was gasping helplessly, swallowing back moans so that they wouldn’t keep her from hearing him. Her hips moved restlessly, thighs rubbing together, and she heard him shifting, although his voice still seemed to be everywhere around her, echoing in her ears.
"Anna. Open your legs for me." She whimpered, let her thighs part slowly, and heard him take a rough breath. "Bend your knees." She drew her knees up, digging her toes against the fur beneath her in anticipation of his next instruction. There was a long pause before he gave it, and Anna imagined his eyes moving over her, lingering, and her cheeks burned. "Touch yourself, Anna," he said, and she shivered when his breath brushed over her ear.
Her hand lifted, her fingers curling hesitantly in the air for a moment, then they slipped down her body to that insistent throbbing between her legs. Her head pressed back with a moan as she stroked, circled, her lip caught tight between her teeth. She was already perilously close to the edge and she reached out blindly for him, gasping as a shudder shook her. “Kristoff—”
"Stop."
Anna pulled her hand away, gripping the rug as shivers wracked her body, as she slowly sank back from the wave of pleasure that had not quite crested. He pressed his mouth to hers and she lifted her face to the kiss eagerly, hungry to feel him.
"Open your eyes, Anna."
She blinked, lashes fluttering for a moment before she focused on his face above her, on his eyes. His hand combed through her hair as he met her gaze, letting her see…everything. Kristoff’s eyes were dark with desire, but the intensity that burned behind the desire was something different, something deeper. She couldn’t put a name to it until he said the words.
"I love you."
He pulled her too him and Anna’s hands moved anxiously to shove his tunic up over his head, to bare his skin so that she could feel him against her, to feel the hard strength that the mountain had shaped and sculpted and then given to her to keep, and she understood.
This was the mountains, where spontaneity could get you killed, where softness made you vulnerable. There was no room for softness in this world. But Kristoff’s feelings for her weren’t soft—they were as piercing as wind, as pure as snow, they were bedrock at the very foundation of his being. He was not going to separate her from this part of his life, he was never going to disappear into the mountain, leaving her behind, as long as she trusted him. As long as he could trust her. She belonged with him, whatever world they were in, and when he brought her to this dangerous place he would protect her. He would teach her. He would keep her safe.
When she fell back against the fur again, it was with his strength wrapped around her softness like a shield.