Thistle's growl as he placed distance between the heat of their bodies brought a slow, arrogant smirk to the Viking's lips, not caring if she saw it or not. It was the most obvious statement of her displeasure at the rush of cool air that had risen between the two of them. It kissed at his scars, at his empty eye socket bringing with it a sickeningly sweet feeling that he was quick to put down. Her growl had become muted the moment she felt his chest flush with her backside. He shifted his weight as he felt the force of her body as she pushed back against him, impatient, demanding; Ragnar loved it. For a moment, ignoring the low whine that left his Queen's lips as her tail moved aside for him, he simply admired her. She was beautiful to him, the potential that he had seen within her when he had first met her having finally came to it's full. She had reached and excelled her potential. She was a shieldmaiden true now, a Queen, and the mother of his children and Ragnar would not have it any other way. Even if his attention was fickle it was she that was the true love of his life and no one could question it. Something pretty might catch the Viking's eye, sure, but it was always Thistle that he would return to. It went beyond simply love; he adored her, worshiped her. There was no one in the world he trusted more. These things he could never convey with words, for the Northman was hardly the romantic type, and even if he did he felt she was inclined to disbelieve him.
Eye of caribbean blue took her in hungrily, then, his thoughts broken by the impatient shift of her weight. He had kept her waiting long enough.
FADE TO BLACK.