Predatory eyes of Caribbean ice narrowed as he watched Julooke slyly move closer to him, the grin that tugged at his subordinate’s lips where it danced devilishly, giving way to her intentions before she even spoke of it. The Viking held his ground as she slowly stalked closer to him, watching as her muscles pulled taunt beneath her caked coat, poised to spring before she lunged at him. Ragnar supposed he could have dodged it if he had cared too, but he did not see the harm in letting Julooke have her fun with him. The smear of the cool mud, a transition from her body onto his as they slid against one another (though he remained good naturedly still), was sticky and messy and he glimpsed where she left a smear track against his unscarred side and let out a snort of cool amusement. “How a Viking is supposed to be, dirty,” He remarked and then offered her an impish grin of his own. “The only thing missing is sweat and blood.” Wolves didn’t sweat, of course, but it was used as a figure of speech.
Not forgetting his original purpose as he allowed Julooke to have her fun with him, he lifted his leg and marked another tree, ears cupped forth to pick up anything his subordinate might have spoken to him while he concentrated on urinating on the tree. “Odinn wouldn’t help them Julooke,” He teasingly corrected her, knowing what she meant. There was no God …Pagan or otherwise that would be able to help them from Ragnar tearing out their entrails and then their spines. He did not take trespassing with any sort of grace and often, did not offer warnings, especially not when the borders themselves were the biggest red flag, neon sign humanly (or wolfishly?) possible.
“See, I told you,” Apparently, Ragnar liked saying that, but he was glad that unlike with Gavriil he could say for something good, rather than something bad. “So are you mates yet? Is it official because we’ll have to hold a celebration if or when it is. Is there thoughts of children in your near future?” As an Alpha, of course, he wanted the details, but also as her friend, as well. Ragnar peered at Julooke then, observing her, deducing that she was capable and of the age of bearing young though they had never really spoken of one another’s ages.
