Fruits of Our Labor

Sirius was a possessive bastard, and sometimes that overruled his good sense. A sheepish part of him understood Roan. he had a wife of his own, after all. But the stronger part of him was an absolute hypocrite. He bit down the urge to snarl at Roan, and instead, managed a wry smile at the man’s words. “No kiss for you muffin?” he shot back, but there was more comrade then bite to his words this time. At least he had refrained from hissing ‘miiiiiiiine’ to Roan. Likely, that would not have gone down well with any of them.

“I suppose I can forgive you for not saying hello then” he teased, his attention back on Io. It was a good excuse, and soothed his ruffled feathers some. When she pulled free of his grasp, he let her go. If it was up to him, he would have held onto her for a few weeks longer.