[m] water that i crave

Nerian did not respond to his inquiries and though it was something Ragnar had begun to expect from her he could not help but feel a little annoyed. It had been a simple question, as far as he had been concerned, though it occurred to him mere moments later that perhaps she was not telling him with a purpose. Perhaps her response would have angered him and he was so tired of being angry these days. He only wanted to enjoy this moment with her. The scarred Scandinavian gave a soft shiver when she moved to higher ground, pausing only to her tail could tease under his chin. It wasn't a cool night and the water felt good, soaking into his fur and cooling the heated skin beneath that had, frankly, nothing to do with the heat in the air. For a moment he watched the elegant sashay of his Priestess Wives' hips as she ascended to dryer earth, drinking in her beauty in the same way that the moon drank in the sun's light.

It did not take long for Ragnar to follow, having forgotten that he had came to the sea for some peace in the chaotic spinning of his world. He thought that he understood what she was asking him for, that he understood what the wanton tease of her tail beneath his chin was implying. He could have been mistaken, of course, but he knew women enough, he thought, to be able to tell — then again Nerian wasn't yet used to asking for what she wanted of him as a woman. Or perhaps, the Viking considered, she was embarrassed. Shy. If you do not know how to tell me with your body you can tell me what you want with your words, you know, Ragnar murmured to her sincerely hesitating by her flank, wanting to move the last few inches so that he was in the primal spot for taking her. He was not sure that he had read her body language correctly, however, and so did not take the steps to insinuate it.

He leaned in to plant a nip at her hip teasingly, before he drew back gauging her reaction. To see if she would accept him or reject him.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN