Likely, his wife’s words administered to him with her muzzle close to the fur damp with the heat of her breath where she had most recently left a love bite upon his scruff, Thistle was correct. His words had been meant only to placate. He had never been good at staying still, never took being den ridden with much regality (even in his childhood he had been the first to boldly brave the light, the world outside their birthing den) and that trait would last until the day he drew his dying breath. It seemed the purr he made (of the wolfish equivalent of it, anyhow) had some kind of affect upon his fawn colored shield maiden for her pupils had blown wide within their pools of azure, innocent and wanton all in one confusingly neat little package. Curiosity caused the Viking’s head to lower as Ragnar struggled against the feral urge to grasp her scruff betwixt his teeth and pull her roughly against her in an intimate embrace.
“I should go,” Ragnar spoke with great reluctance, voice gentle as always but sultry and husky at the feel of her nuzzling the thick fur at his neck. He should go before he lost all semblance of his self control because in that moment there was a prominent ache for her in his loins, rushing through his veins like his blood was on fire, awakening what feral and libertine instincts had thusly lain dormant since their night of heated passion in Ravensblood Forest. They were slowly coming alive - like a dimming light bulb growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. If he did not, he would have her right here and now, and there was little doubt in the Viking’s mind that she would let him because she wanted him. He could see it behind the innocence of her eyes, he could practically sense it. But it was dangerous because he had no idea if he could potentially hurt their children or not and Ragnar was not so certain he could live through another burial of his children without slaughtering someone. No, he would not run with that risk.
“I will come by later to check on you,” He promised, knowing that he didn’t dare return until his wanting had long passed. “Take care today.” He reached out to press his muzzle against her cheek, teeth razing through the plush and silky fur there reminiscent of the first time he had ever made a pass at her high of his delirious fever. With great effort he backed away from her then waiting to see if she had anything further to say to him before he with a forlorn look in her direction turned and forced himself to see to the borders.
