Ragnar was reminded, once more of how contrasting they were to one another, that she was fire - warmth and he was ice - winter and blood borne. “I will try to be better next time,” For there was little doubt there would be a next time when he would be in need of her to heal him; it had came to be an expectation for Floki as it would likely become an expectation for her, too. Though, Thistle had Ragnar’s self made position of Pump’s lap dog working to her greater advantage. He had not been on a raid since shortly before leaving the Cove - which tended to be where most of his injuries came from unless someone was trying to kill him, but seeing as how he had neither here (that he knew of, anyway) he wasn’t put in much danger. “I don’t make a habit out of stretching the truth, my tiny viking,” Ragnar nearly purred to her, mimicking the sound that was commonly associated with a cat.
Her nips continued until he spoke; Ragnar could almost feel her body freeze at his words and spared a glimpse over his shoulder at her. “Not the actual intimacy of it but you can mount and you can move your hips,” Which would have all been all that was necessary of replicating it. Probably, it might have been a funny sight if he wasn’t so serious about it, smirking to himself and her at the thought. In a way that was almost too polite for the Viking, his wife declined his offer. A soft snort escaped the savage’s black, leathery nostrils a soft tell tale of his amusement. “I am fine with it,” Of course he was fine with what was a natural position for their species, still it was an interesting idea in case she ever changed her mind though he was fairly sure that she wouldn’t. Ragnar leaned into her love bite, the feel of her tongue smoothing over the fur that covered the area she had bitten eliciting a soft noise from the Viking before he murmured her name, “Thistle.”
Of course he wanted her, he wanted to ravage her, to stake his claim upon her until nothing remained of Crete’s feeble and fading claim upon his wife. But Ragnar doubted, given the progression of her pregnancy that Thistle would let him until well after the babes were born and not so reliant upon her milk. He would wait for her because Odinn desired the continuation of their union and marriage, and because Ragnar wanted to wait for her.
