How reluctant she is to place his clothes upon her own body yet her reaction as she inhales his scent afterwards tells him of her true feelings. It is all a game with her, the tug and pull of instinctual yearning for the caress of another being and yet the fear of giving away that piece of oneself when it has been there all along. To be alone for so long had become a comfort, a thing of beauty and the only thing that was consistent in his life, other than death. She, this wicked feline that clings to him as he carries her into the kitchen, she threatens everything that represents him and makes him well, him.

The retrieval of items was easy, hands finding what he needs before his mind tells him which ones to go for. If she weren't here he would still cook just as much food. A feast occurred every time the beast would eat and he was picky with how it was made. No need for a cook when you can do it yourself. And he wasn't the dirty type to need a maid. It was never lonely in this empty carcass of a house, but he had a strange feeling that when she finally left that feeling of loneliness might hit.

Nevermind.

The air shifts and his rear his attacked. A growl erupts from him, body tensing with instinct as he swivels. The towel lay away from the culprit, her face a presentation of angelic. How quickly he forgets the task at hand, stalking from the fridge to press between her legs. Hand rises to gently but sternly grasp her throat as that other hand finds her wrists, bounding them in his massive grip. How he can be so gentle and yet so rough is an artform. His head lowers as he forces her to gaze upon his now twisted face. It isn't horrific, no, it is sexy, the way his icy gaze flashes with danger, lip lifted in a snarl of distaste. "funny..." his body is crushing her against the cupboards on the countertops. He rumbles, that usual thunder like sound as he releases her neck to grip her chin. He lowers, lips resting above her own as he glances into her eyes with that pause. Then he goes in for the kill, lips pressing against her own as a satisfied grumble forms between their mouths. She tastes like fire, like sweet fire that burns him from the outside in. hand falling from her chin to press against the small of her back, the kiss deepening and then,

The doorbell.

A snarl rips from him,pulling away to rest his forehead upon hers in exasperation. The timing, another ring of his doorbell and he tears from her and strides away, breaking towards the front door and swinging it open heavily. Arm raises to rest along it, hand gripping the top the way only a man of his height can. The woman smiles, revealing her sharpened canines "he wants to see you." she says, her head tilting at the irritated look upon his scarred features. Her eyes dart from him, body twisting in an attempt to peek around him at the treasure he attempts to lock away inside. He will bring regan when he is ready, for now, why break the dream?

"so he sent you?" he snorts, "since when do you follow any order?" she hisses at his mocking tone, waving a hand in the air to dismiss his words.

"shut up viking. I chose to come, we havent seen you since..." she trails off, lower lip meeting her polished daggers as she looks down. They worry for him, he knows, but he does not take kindly to such an emotion.

"I'm fine." he grumbles plainly, a shrug of his burly shoulders at her concern. She notices it, and rolls her eyes, their brief moment shattered just like that. "we done here?" he questions, not waiting for her response. The door slams, blocking him from the view of her now flustered gaze. He takes this small moment to rub his eyes, head beginning to hurt already. He will return to them eventually, and maybe even have her tag along, but for now he wishes to be selfish, to keep her from seeing that side of him and for giving her this special moment between them alive just a little while longer.

Iórkæll dværg