the lay of our love - M

In the interest of keeping this moving relatively quickly (since it's plot centered) I'm going to try to reply daily. :-) And since technically I started this thread on the first I'm going to say you don't have to wait until it's finished (b/c I'm so slow) to start counting/playing it like the symptoms of pregnancy, etc since technically they conceived on the first of Feb. xD :P And because: yay puppies. [size=-3]I can't wait to play Jorunn[/size].

Though Ragnar was initially perplexed when he approached Thistle's favored clearing to find his Queen wife digging what appeared to be furiously in the dirt — for what purpose he did not know — he let it go for the sake of much more important things taken the precedent of his mind. She had turned, taken with surprise at his approach, the snarl that had briefly been upon her face though no sound had spilled forth from her before it had registered that it was only he. Ragnar did not bother to hide the smirk that tugged at the edges of his lips, coy and sly as he studied her heavily with his singular eye. Until she had realized that it was him, Ragnar might have went so far as to say she looked like she intended to murder, which pleased the Jarl Northman immensely. It meant that she would allow no other near her, though Ragnar, himself, had no intentions of letting anyone else near her, either. “Thistle,” The Viking purled her name, ghosting forward a step as her tail wagged, fanning her scent , already overpowering, even more, luring him closer without much (if any) resistance from Ragnar.

Her tail ceased it's movement when, Ragnar assumed, she realized what she was doing but the Viking was half tempted to ask her not to stop. Her body was ready to conceive and it was screaming it at him. If Ragnar had believed in such things he might have said that she was like his personal siren and that he wanted nothing to plunge and drown in the depths of the darkened seas if it meant he could breach the distance and ensure that by the end of the day they had conceived children. Their children — children born of his seed and no one else's. The prospect filled his mind like an obsession, and given the hormones that were pouring out of his beloved made it harder still to ignore.

A guttural noise of yearning left the scarred Northman's lips as he drew nearer still, not stopping until his nose touched her cheek. His weight shifted uncomfortably at the impatience of his body and while the Viking was nothing short of a savage: savage leader, savage father, savage lover, he, at the same time, wanted to make sure that she wanted him as badly as he did her. Nerian had thrown herself at him as soon as she noticed him while Thistle had taken a, thus far, much more reserved demeanor and it was driving him mad. He trailed sultry kisses down her cheek, down to her throat where he nipped playfully, eager to move and slowly trailed the side of his body along hers as he made to circle her, rubbing their scents together with clear intention.

"It is time," He breathed pausing to press his nose against the outside of her thigh, inhaling deeply, another guttural noise rumbling contentedly and impatiently in his throat.