Ragnar watched as his wife drew nearer to him and whispered in a tone that he took to be seductive into his ear, which twitched towards her in response to the drift of her breath against the velveteen fur that lined there. “Is that a challenge?” Ragnar asked her watching as she pulled back from him, her smile sly and her eyes alight with a fire that he hoped only he had the pleasure of knowing as she seat herself across from him. Whether it had been a challenge or not, Ragnar did not immediately rise to take it but instead reclined upon his own haunches, black, leathery nose twitching when she spoke her joy at having all of his lusting thoughts to herself. The Viking grinned at her in a cheeky and wolfish manner, tail swishing against the earth once, twice, before it moved to lay against his side. “Can you handle them, wife?” He taunted her coyly just because he wanted to tease her. Thistle had proven able to handle them so far, to handle him with a surprising amount of grace and patience. His attentions had been used to flitting from female to female as they sashayed his way, giving to the thrill of the chase they presented …and something the lack of a chase and them throwing them away after he had gotten what he wanted from them.
Gradually, as Ragnar had begun to fall in love with Thistle that desire had faded. In a way, it was nice to settle down and love only one woman, knowing that with her his future held some semblance of certainty and security, and that she would give him the sons he desired in time.
“Here I thought I was the only stubborn one,” He murmured into the flesh of her throat as he tucked his head under her chin and nipped at the silky fur and soft flesh there, teasing and testing to see how much she trusted him as his lips moved lower letting a trail of sultry kisses down the curve of her neck lingering for a few prolonged moments over her jugular. It was not a threatening gesture made by Ragnar but he was curious to see if she recoiled or allowed him his play of kisses over her most vulnerable part of her body. Having decided that he had tortured her enough he smoothed his tongue over her fur once before he pulled back .
“But I hold no real power. Pump makes the decisions. I’m just …her advisor, the muscle as I told you before.” That was the best way he could describe the terms in which Pump had promoted him. He could voice his opinions — and he did — but she would decide whether or not to listen to them. Most of the time, the Viking felt, she didn’t listen to them if they disagreements on many things was of any indication.
