Permafrost Hollows hunger is the beginning of every folk tale

If you want to fade to black this portion in your post, and move to the end, we can? idk *awkwards about*

He tries to pretend he knows Gyda. Knows her well enough that this is the right thing, that they would be able to raise a litter of children together, that he would be a father with a woman he cares for. That Gyda isn’t his queen, hadn’t asked him to perform with stipulations, that she would carry children that—even if she assured him otherwise—aren’t necessarily his. They belong to the dragon, to Gyda, to Thuringwethil (had she even told her queen they were related?), and while they would be in part his own, it isn’t the same.  It isn’t what he’d been raised to expect, what Ecca or Titan had shared, but the last few months had been a whirlwind and nothing was… normal.

Gyda mewled and his ears perk upon his head, leaning into her body. He nips her hip, gently, before he moves and feels the overwhelming scent coming from her body. Tension fills him and his movements are rigid, unexpected, and he knows what he’s supposed to do. It’s another job, he supposes, but the outcome had different consequences he’d have to face. She invites him and, nevertheless, whether from duty of instinct, he tastes what she leaves behind before he picks himself up and uses her as support to guide himself into position. 

Gavriel’s movements are slow, gentle—at least for now—while the anticipation down in his groin threatens to take over. Eventually, he’ll allow it, but in the meantime he attempts to give her a chance to change her mind before it’s too late to turn back.