and if i told you to put your hands on my body101.180.50.145Posted On December 07, 2017 at 1:15 PM by Rixon Leifsson

we built this city on broken glass

He had some inkling, perhaps, of the turmoil that turned within the young woman’s mind when it came to those thoughts of her children. Frost hardly needing to peer into those thoughts to wonder of them. Nadya seemed to fear that either of her offspring might yet grow up to resent her for those choices she made in regards to their pack, their father and their uncle. He understood, to some extent, the worries that turned within her and yet too those children were so decidedly young. What little they remembered of their Father and Uncle would be forgotten within a few weeks and within a few months it was surely unlikely they would remember either of those men at all in any real sense. Not when they were far too young to form those more lasting memories or impressions. Frost near assured neither child would remember enough to resent Nadya at all and yet it was that very worry that perhaps personified the panther as a….good mother to begin with. The very notion that she already considered what her children might think of her indicated just as much. After all, Frost had seen Mothers worry before. He understood that near instinctive drive if nothing else and yet in this he hardly saw any need for his girlfriend to distress herself.

It was all too easy to allow his arms to wrap about her, the stallion pulling her lighter, slender figure against his own until her back pressed against the hard planes of his chest in that rare moment of affection. Frost still entirely content to learn just when those moments of affection were required. The man decidedly un-used to offering them in any sense. Emotions were difficult, the expression of them even more so and yet with each passing week that trust of sorts he found within his girlfriend begun to see just a little more of that emotion present itself from behind that ever-present mask of indifference that, for so long, had been the very thing that had assured his survival. It was difficult to allow even the vaguest touch of that emotion to bleed through, the man still very much attempting to become used to it- even if only for Nadya alone and yet that desire to ease her own distress perhaps outweighed his own nature. After all, he disliked seeing anyone, or anything, beneath his protection in any state less then pristine. That protectiveness within him assuring that.

Nadya shifted easily within his arms then, the woman turning away from those sleeping children to rest her head against his chest, her lips pressing to the warm skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt- that simple gesture alone tugging that flesh into a heated awareness. How easily she pulled those reactions from him so unlike any other woman before. Perhaps he should hardly have been surprised. Nadya was the first within the entirety of his very life he had ever been allowed to choose for himself. The first woman he had ever felt any genuine emotion towards- it’s potency baffling him still. That assurance he was right prompting that quirk of his lip that so came with the pleasure of that admittance before her hand fitted in his own and that bedroom light was shut off. Those glow in the dark figures momentarily caught his attention, his gaze lingering upon them with some vague curiosity. He had never truly seen a children’s room after all. Not until Nadya had brought the children to his own home. Those coloured walls and toys so far from anything he had known as a child. His head shook lightly, dismissing those ideas then, Frost allowing the young woman to lead him from that room then and into the bedroom that had become their own.

He hardly anticipated that press of her hand against him, encouraging him to sit upon the edge of the bed, Nadya positioning her own slender figure between his knees before she lent down to steal that heated kiss. Frost willingly returning that gesture then as one hand lifted to slide gently behind her head, the stallion encouraging that gesture all the more as that soft sound of satisfaction tugged at his own throat. How sweet that taste of her lips was. Any words he had been about to offer stolen with that gesture alone. He was almost reluctant to allow her to lean away, her fingers teasing at his shirt before she stepped back just enough to lift her own. That shirt peeled away to reveal that dark red, lacy bra beneath. Frost hardly caring to hide the way the violet of his own gaze roved across her figure, the sight of her alone prompting the beginnings of that more physical reaction within himself. Her body was perfection. It always had been. Her figure so far beyond any of those women he had ever known before even after the birth of her children. Those near teasing word prompting that simper to his lips again as his hands moved to rest upon her hips, his thumbs brushing along the skin of her sides if only to feel it’s soft warmth beneath his hands.

“Ég held að ég hafi nokkrar hugmyndir. I think I have some ideas.”

Those Icelandic words were translated for her in near the same breath, those baritone lyrics echoing softly into that room as he lent easily forward, his lips brushing softly against the skin of her stomach before trailing gently upward to press to her chest, her throat and neck before at last finding her lips once more. Frost relishing in that singular sweetness. His hand slide easily upward, running over the curves of her waist, that affinity for heat summoned easily to let that warmth slide up her sides before his fingers slipped behind her- catching the clasp of that bra to let it fall away. His lips pulled softly from her own then, Frost glancing downward to eye her newly uncovered figure, one eyebrow raising slightly as his gaze returned to her own. Those lyrics teasing now.

“Hmmm, I think I can accept a payment plan. We could start here- I think- and work our way to full repayment.”

His lips brushed across her collarbone then, working their way downward to the first swell of that newly uncovered area that stallion held every intention of subjecting to that touch of his lips.



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