Work Text:
Toothless huffed at the sight before him. Middle of the night, bags under his eyes, and his viking was still hammering away at some misshapen piece of metal. The night fury cast his eyes to the corner of the smithy, where a pile of similar misshapen pieces of metal sat. Hiccup's current one was... worse.
"C'mon, I think I've almost got it..." the cute human muttered to himself. "Just- just gotta try-" He was interrupted by a yawn. Toothless made his move.
"O-oh, hey bud," Hiccup said when the dragon came up alongside him, "sorry we haven't flown in a bit, I've been working on something to make your harness fit better. Dig in less, lighter, that sort of thing." His eyes didn't focus on Toothless, rather looking past his mate. This wouldn't do; Hiccup was hurt. Whether he admitted it or not.
Toothless pressed his head against his viking, careful not to shove him too quickly; as Hiccup was, he might fall, and wouldn't be able to catch himself. To his dismay, Hiccup resisted him, trying to stay at the workbench with the glowing metal. "I'll just- Toothless, just a bit longer, I've almost-" Another yawn. "- I've almost got it." Toothless spared another glance at the pile of failures. In his expert opinion as Hiccup's Boyfriend, the young inventor did not, in fact, "got it."
It was time for drastic measures.
Toothless sized up the viking; Hiccup, of course, was a small collection of fishbones wrapped in furs, and Toothless was a night fury. The dragon opened his jaws, let his teeth recede into his gums, steeled himself, and then carefully grabbed Hiccup's entire midsection in his mouth. He heard a distinct clatter as his mate, surprised, dropped whatever tools and metal he had been working with. And then Toothless pulled.
Hiccup came away off the ground easily, soon held like a very delicate tuna. With his head held high, Toothless strode out of the wide entryway of the forge. Next came the hard part - not from the human, but from himself. After working long hours in the forge, Hiccup had always smelled and tasted like smoke and flame and sweat and fur, a delicious combination and one that spurred plenty of joyful licking sessions in the past. But carrying him in his mouth? Generations of dragon instincts told him that what he had was not his mate, but some prey animal, scorched and frantic, and that he should bite down or thrash his head to ensure his meal wouldn't escape.
Toothless reminded himself, over and over, not to kill his boyfriend just because he tastes good. ...and tries to escape his mouth while saying nonsense like "just one more try" and "Gobber'll kill me if I don't clean up." Nope, Toothless was determined not to let Hiccup back in the forge until he had recovered from his sleepless nights.
When the dragon made his way back to Hiccup's home, Stoick had startled on seeing his son carried in the jaws of a dragon, even reaching reflexively for his axe. Fortunately, he managed to calm himself, offering a "thank you, Toothless" and a couple of well-meaning but rather rough headpats as Toothless carried Hiccup into their room.
Once confident that the pile of furs he slept on was soft enough to put Hiccup, the night fury dropped him down. Hiccup started to try to get back to his feet, presumably to make for the forge again, but a scaly, black paw put an end to that nonsense. With his paw and mouth, Toothless grabbed the boy's shirt and pulled it up and off, easily overpowering him. Too easily, in Toothless's opinion; Hiccup had grown weak in the forge. The night fury would make sure his mate got adequate rest, even if that meant carrying him to bed each night.
The pants were next; Toothless noticed Hiccup did not struggle nearly as much against this... and that his favorite viking's face had gone red. A thought of propositioning his mate came to Toothless's mind, but he dismissed it easily: in Hiccup's weakened state, it would be unsatisfying for the dragon, and, more importantly, very easy to accidentally hurt the smaller, vulnerable viking. Toothless pushed Hiccup's chest back down and crooned softly, a calming noise.
With Hiccup laying still for once - though still trying to convince Toothless to let him up - Toothless began to lick him. Although he did very much enjoy the smoky, salty taste, this was primarily a thorough tongue-bath, and one desperately needed, despite Hiccup's protests when the viking realized what his mate was up to. Every inch of admittedly tasty skin was licked, with some extra time spent between his legs, coaxing some fun noises from his boyfriend. Then, with a gentle push, Toothless flipped his boyfriend over and repeated the process. Hiccup gave a few weak protests and tried to stand, but was forced back down just by the broad, pink tongue - again, how easy it was to overpower his boyfriend only proved to Toothless how necessary this was.
Once the scrawny viking was nice and clean - or at least covered in night fury drool, all that was left was sleep. And sleep meant Hiccup not slipping out to go hit more metal. "Are you done yet, bud?" Hiccup asked. "Now that I'm all washed, will you let me back to the forge?"
In response, Toothless sat down, then fell forward, laying his black, scaly head on his mate's chest. Hiccup wouldn't be crushed, but, as the futile struggle of weak hands against his chin showed, he wouldn't be leaving, either. The night fury crooned again, imploring his mate to sleep, and then closed his own eyes and purred.
"Ugh. C'mon, Toothless, I'm fine. I napped on the way here."
"Let... me... up! Come on, you big lug, I'm trying to help you with the - yawn - saddle!"
"I can... I can wait for... you to... wake up..."
And then, a slow, soft snoring. Hiccup's arms wrapped around Toothless's head in his sleep, hugging his warm, scaly boyfriend. Toothless smiled and lit a tiny bit of flame in his mouth to keep the viking nice and toasty through his scales.
Dragon and human dreamed together.