The first time is slow and ruffled and fumbling and cautious.

And gentle. Very Gentle,

She'll never forget how gentle.

Anna had romanticized fire and intensity; life and death all in every touch. It wasn't that.

It was sweet. Perfectly sweet. Whenever she remembered it, she smiled, blushed, even giggled on some occasions because it was a happy memory, not lusty or wild with abandon. It wasn't skirt-hitching, bosom-heaving romance novel fodder. It didn't spiral her into a pleasure-induced nirvana. It was simple and pure and good, their first time. Above all things, it was happy. And sweet. And gentle.

Not to be mistaken for a lack of longing, mind you. They'd both thought about it longingly, often, hourly. They'd regret times where their privacy had been squandered with innocent exchanges, not touching, only to part ways and have each of them in their rooms agonizing over what they could have been doing, could have been feeling…

They didn't want to waste the lack of supervision. The kisses grew bolder, hands more curious and soon not just their lips were pressed together, leading to blushing and cursing and one pulling away in shock a few times. They'd wanted to very, very badly. Yet it was unspoken, unyielding, that she wasn't lifting her skirts for him in a barn for their first time and he wasn't trying to slither up them either. So they'd pull away when it all got too much, and retreat their separate ways to simmer in frustration and sulk in disappointment.

But when he really took her, the timing was right and she'd never trade any rough exchange in the stables for lying in his bed as he kissed her until they were both nodding at each other, not talking but communicating "yes…yes…yes," until they were both naked and clutching each other. It was slowly paced, the clothes came off as layers, working through a routine but with less between them each time around. Less fabric. Less doubt. Less worry.

More excitement. More affection. More joy.

His brain seemed to know what to do but his hands did not, which led to half-hearted, sheepish chuckling on his end and a series of surprised and halting noises from her. His eyes stayed on her face, gauging every little reaction. He knew to touch lightly first, in every scenario, because she wasn't too shy to push against his fingers for more.

She didn't always do that. When his fingers stroked over her clit, it seemed enough for her, no rough palming was required to make her shiver and whimper as she trembled with her orgasm. They didn't need to use all their strength, all their intensity, all their heat to work each other over in exhaustive lust. She was hungry for his kisses and his curious hands. He wanted to feel her, knew he could feel her again so was trying to focus on what he could this one time.

They both knew he was taking as much time as possible so she'd be ready enough, wet enough, to make this as easy for her as possible. All her limbs were splayed on the mattress and her bones felt like they weren't solid anymore.

There was no tension, no intense need for completion, everything felt good and it could have gone on that way forever.

When he finally began to sink inside her, slowly, he was nearly too big and she was stretched but everything was so, so gentle. His hands massaged her hips and ass to ease tension away, and he filled her push by gentle push, until she was smiling up at him, nodding "yes…yes…yes," again and he finally unclenched his hands to begin moving, the tension of waiting gone. He covered her in kisses and stroked his hands all over her, seeming to remember minutes into it that he could kiss her nipples now, that is was alright for him to touch the secret parts of her, and seemed to fumbling try to make up for forgetting. He adjusted her legs so her clit was nudged by his pelvis with each thrust. He was astoundingly gentle, attentive, but couldn't help when his head dropped to her shoulder, groaning out her name as he came inside her the first time. Warmth filled her insides at the feel of his cum, and she shuddered pleasantly and the sensation of him in her, for the last fleeting seconds where he pulled out, blushing over his performance. She hadn't finished. She didn't care. He did.

"I'm sorry. I can…uh…make it up to you," he reached a hand down, coaxing it between her legs. She shuddered, everything was tender and raw and she wasn't sure that this was what she wanted.

She shook her head at his abashed face, kissing him repeatedly and smiling and giggling against his mouth, sliding her wet thighs around his hips and lavishing him with her own warmth and affection.

Kristoff rolled off her and rested himself by her side, twining one hand in hers as they caught their breath.

"mmm," she finally said, rolling her hips and drawing closer, making it impossible for him to not put his arms around her.

He let out a breathy chuckle, pressing kiss after kiss to her brow, running his thumbs up and down her ribs. She ran her hands from the base of his neck to his chest, and they made a collective effort to scoot closer, bringing their bodies together. He smiled at her, brushing his nose against her.

"I loved this," he confessed quietly.

She laughed, relieved that it was over, but not in a dreadful way. The pain was out of the way, and after crossing this threshold they could only go forward. And right now she had time to enjoy him without building up to satisfying their physical desires. She felt the form of his chest under her hands, saw the kind light –like something had dissolved- in his eyes, and basked in his warmth. She could really look at him, his chest and arms and neck and face.

"You were so gentle," her eyes were large with gratitude and he smiled proudly and kissed her.

"I didn't want to hurt you," his eyes searched for any physical cue from her, "Did I?"

"Nope," she took his face in her hands, "I loved it too."

He heaved a sigh like he was able to breathe again. "I really wanted you to."

They exchanged quiet smiles, secret smiles with laughter and warmth in the depths of their eyes, because there was nothing else to say. It was a slow back-and-forth of movements after that, figuring out how the other would sleep more comfortably; her arms went around his neck before his encircled her waist. He shifted from his side to leaning slightly more on his shoulder and back, pulling her to lie snuggled against his ribcage. His hand held her thigh over his hip, securing it to where it had been lazily draped. One arm stretched up her back to lace itself in her hair. She found herself resting her hands on his chest again, discovering she quite liked keeping them there. They fell asleep like that, breathing on each other's faces and nudging against each other like a litter of puppies.

This was what she remembered. This was what she loved.

It was perfect. And gentle. And warm.

A/N My headcanon is that they're big snugglers. Look at them together. Prime snuggling.

Also, kinda surprised I wrote this. I loathe first time stories if only because it's always mind-blowing and dirt and hot. With these two dorks, and their unavoidable size difference, it would be a bit more fumbling and awkward.

This isn't the hottest thing I could have written. I know that. It's the point of this. I get confused by really lusty, hot sex first time fics with them. In certain situations it works, but I think something like that wouldn't be as impulsive in the beginning, especially when he falters at the opportunity to put an arm around her. They're what I call a "I love you, you butthead" couple and that' s their dynamic in my eyes.

Not that I discourage lusty, hot sex fics. Keep' em coming.