Ragnar’s smirk deepened as Thistle laughed out loud at Ragnar’s confession as to what Floki gave as his reason, confirming that she could attest to Floki’s reasons. “I don’t like being fussed over,” Though he liked Thistle’s attention, had liked it even before he had developed affections for her, he did not like her constant fussing despite that it was her job - just as it had been Floki’s; though Floki hadn’t fussed quite as much as Thistle had. “I’m not a very good patient.” For many reasons, most of which finding root in his general dislike of being ‘bed ridden’. He hated not being able to do anything. “I think I did warn you,” Ragnar spoke up as an after thought, remembering saying something similar to her if not full out warning her that he was a horrible patient as she had learned rather abruptly at the infection and resulting delirious fever he had gotten as a result.
A playful growl had resounded - impressively - from somewhere within his wife’s delicate and pregnant body causing Ragnar to glimpse down at her right before she rose upon her hind legs, the feeling of her paws wrapping around his neck accompanied by the feeling of her nip at the scruff of fur along his neck. Her movements were sluggish by the extra weight she was carrying around but that did not stop Ragnar from enjoying Thistle’s rough play. “Are we switching positions in our love making?” He asked her in a teasing purr, oddly finding that he wouldn’t have minded. Because their autonomy wasn’t similar to humans there would be no actual love making if she was on top but she could mount him and mimic his actions if she wanted too. He had heard of females doing it though none of his previous wives had been daring enough to attempt to mount him be it in a display of sexual prowess or dominance. It was an interesting question that left Ragnar expecting an interesting answer from Thistle.
