the claws are out

A minor miscalculation in her level of drunkenness very nearly caused Valkyrie to pull Chaos down on top of her as she stepped backwards to the bearskins. Her hind paws tangled in the bedding causing her legs to fold under her while her momentum continued to pull Chaos forward. The error would have seemed like a stumble had she not been able to salvage it at the last second by slowing her fall and feigning the desire to be chest to chest with him. Once she was seated she released her grip on him.

Though he was older than her, Chaos still cut an impressive figure and even in the semi dark of the den she could make out the mismatched coloring of his eyes and the rugged scars (many of her doing) that marred his face. Impressive as he may have been, Valkyrie had not picked him for his looks. On the occasions she had found herself in his presence she had rather liked his sense of humor. That, combined with his prowess in battle, had fixed him in her thoughts. The first and last attributes she wanted for her children, however, the middle she had wanted for herself. Although she wasn’t after it now or naive enough to think it guaranteed in the future, some day Valkyrie hoped to kindle genuine affection for one another. She thought his humor was a good starting point.

The paw that had hooked his fangs sought to slide down to his chest. Valkyrie leaned in as though after a kiss but swerved at the last second to bring her lips to his ear. In a smug whisper, she commanded, “On your back.” She then sought to playfully push off of him, claws out, and step back to give him room to comply, her expression promising what he was after if he listened. There was enough bridal drink to last them a season and they were expected to finish in that time. He could, and likely would if she had her way, have her however he liked any night except tonight. This first night she wanted to set a precedent lest he, like the men she’d grown up around, make assumptions about her based on her gender.