There were times when Ruffnut really was a girl, all possessive of a handful of feminine quirks. Nothing enough to draw much attention away from the wild streak that had convinced half the populace she was deranged, but at times those qualities poured out and she felt like she was: Not just a Viking, not just a warrior, but a girl. A woman.
Fishlegs… had that been so surprising? She liked power, that had always been obvious and who was she to deny that? Her other crushes had come to naught and next on the list of semi-eligible marriage partners was Fishlegs. Why not? He was big, solid, strong—and cuddly. She liked that. Nothing quite like feeling held and protected and loved, not bothering to fight or argue. She had pursued, he had freaked out; she kept pursuing, he finally gave in.
He didn't seem to mind having done so.
And the more she had seen the more she liked what she saw. Maybe it was that he didn't try to control her. She liked still being herself and she liked that he let her. But she also liked getting tired of running chaotic and coming home to being held and told about stuff she barely understood. Smarts guys. So underrated.
Those were the times. In their own little house, beloved weapons on the wall, enjoying the time to relax. Calm suspension from the world.
Ruff was pretty strong, but Fishlegs was much stronger. He rarely bothered to use that strength, so it often seemed just meant for her. She had her moments, plenty of them, when she was all for knocking him onto the bed or the chair or the floor or the wall and beginning a session of love with a good firm kiss. But it was nice, in a wonderfully different way, when Fishlegs initiated things. And it was often.
Maybe they were just silly newlyweds. But was it so wrong to set a goal of keeping up such action?
They always pushed against each other as if any space would lead to failure. Ruff was big on the hugs and a good embrace where she could feel nothing but her husband was all the assurance she needed of anything because nothing else mattered. Fishlegs was always sure to kiss her, classic press on the lips, move to the forehead, down the face, leading to the neck and breast and down to the warmth between her legs. She tried to be just as affectionate. Good thing to have a guy that was affectionate.
There were always the times she was in charge, but the others… it wasn't worth the fight. Definitely not worth the fight. Sometimes she felt she should give more effort, do something full-on exciting and interesting that would impress the very gods. But Fishlegs was simple and she supposed she was, too. Besides, was it so wrong to let Fishlegs be the man? Let him show his affection without any expectations?
He was always so into it, anyway. Hard, fast, excellent stamina. Definitely enjoying it himself, but with that vibe she was what mattered most. She would curl with his arms around her, finding that perfect spot. Just to help him out a bit.
The best part was the pause. Fishlegs would sigh and so would she. She wouldn't be quite done and neither would he, but a quick rest… was that so wrong?
It was the way he looked at her.
She had never considered herself beautiful. Astrid was the village beauty, soft and pretty. In contrast Ruff had always felt… not as much. Too tall, too thin, too many angles.
Apparently she was wrong. An entire moment spent feeling like she was the most lovely creature in the world.
It lasted just a pause, but it was long enough. They would finish and he would collapse against her. She would get mad, shove him away, then cuddle against him before he fell asleep.
Somehow she felt assure that pause would never go away.
The End