shatter me

I just read that apparently when a female canine is pregnant (or relatively close to giving birth) she gives off a hormone scent that is similar to the scent she gives off in heat which if not separated will leading to mounting and probably copulation because apparently if confuses the male. :o This is my sneaky way of playing off Ragnar's sluttyness, rofl.

To toss away the female that had not been anything to him but another trophy wife, a beautiful jewel that had captured his eye and briefly was the object of his lust was one thing. It was something he had came to expect of himself, something that he did without a bat of an eye or frankly any remorse. To bury the lifeless, tiny bodies of his children had been something wholly different because while their mother had meant nothing to him they had, and he had to dig a hole and bury all four of their fragile and miniature bodies. It had been the only time that Odinn had been the focus of his fury, his ire having been taken out upon both the God and Dagmar - both of whom he had blamed for her miscarriage. At her invitation the Viking moved closer to her once more, touching his nose to her rounded left side once more, feeling the son on that side move again. “Ein,” Ragnar counted before he circled her and pressed his nose to her right side to feel the second son move. “tveir,” He counted in his native tongue, the familiar language leaving his tongue like a velvet caress.

Hearing Thistle’s laugh at his bewilderment and astonishment at being able to feel what she felt them, to feel their sons move within her broke him out of the stupor he had placed himself in. Brows rose over his icy Caribbean colored eyes but the Viking reveled in the lavishing kisses Thistle was covering him in. “They are your sons when they misbehave,” He told her cheekily with a soft rumble of a chuckle, though he knew that it was quite the reverse and that Thistle had the right of it in that case. “I know,” He breathed in soft disbelief, “You may fight when you are out of your mother’s womb,“ The Viking chided his sons within her though his voice was light and affectionate. Of course the last thing he wanted was for one of them to accidentally break a rib but their penchant for fighting was not one he would discourage.

Ragnar glimpsed down at Thistle, desire jolting his dormant nerves awake suddenly. “You are beautiful,” He purled at her, letting his smoldering eyes scour her body as he placed a sultry kiss just beneath her ear, nipping seductively at her ear.