the lay of our love - M

Thistle did not know why she was more playful than desperate. Perhaps it was because she could have him anytime she wanted. Anyway she wanted, and she knew that. She knew too that his patience was probably thin, with her playful antics. For that reason, she didn’t plan on denying him what he really wanted. What she wanted too, if she thought about it. He was a bit obsessive with having his own children, he always had been. But who was she to judge? He had been promised by his god? So why shouldn’t he be obsessed with a promise made my an otherworldly being?

Thistle truth be told would not have been upset with her husband playing judge and jury. She may have felt a twinge of guilt for that thought at first. But then it would have left. She had liked Nerian she supposed, but the simple thing was. She was her competition. She had threatened to take everything away from Thistle. And that was something that Thistle couldn’t, forgive so easily. Though she wouldn’t kill her for it, and they could probably be friends. As long as she was far, far away from her husband.

Thistle growled softly when Ragnar left her reach. But she quieted it as his chest met her rear. Shifting playfully she pressed against him for a moment. Emitting a low whine, she shifted her paws and lifted her tail. By now the fervor was all she could think about. And the need was a large one. All she heard was the rushing of her blood in her ears, as she waited rather impatiently.