We made these

She gasped again as he emphasized his claim over her. Yes, she was foolish, how could she be so foolish? Everything he had done to show her how she meant everything to him. What more could she want? What more could she ever want? She had the children, how could that not be enough? Was it about being enough? He chose her. He chose her. He chose her.

With his final mine. Their lips met both desperately and hungry for each other. The chain about her neck meant she was always to be his. Always. She was to be no one else's. A slave for no one else either. Even if he did take someone else she would always be his. Even if he did seed another womb she would always be his. He would always want her.

She placed a golden paw on his chest, weakly pushing against him, another fool's question behind her lips.
"Does this mean you'll never bed me again? Just to be safe?" A ritual between them already gone too long without. Had she healed enough?

"Basilisk & Ignita"