She listens, as she always does, and I let go of the breath I'd been holding. Her absence gave him permission and I stood quiet and still as he slipped forward, raking his brutal teeth over my hip. No blood was drawn, but the skin burned in his wake, the fur mussed and wet where his saliva had touched.

Still, I yearned for more.

I press against him, not daring to speak at first and ruin the moment. Garmr is not affectionate. Even this I would hesitate to call affection despite it's best attempt to masquerade as such. This feels more like a respite, as if he is being just as selfish in our interaction as I am.

This realization emboldens me, and as his massive head hangs over my back, stretch my lips forward, seeking the hollow of his flank and trailing down to nip lightly at the tender flesh there. Still, I claim him. I rest there, my skin pressed to his, his head over my back. I drink it in, afraid to break this fragile moment. I do not blame him. I do not hold a grudge.

It is hard to be angry with him when he is near.

When the silence stretches, when still there is no sound, my ears twist toward him again before I speak quietly. "I missed you." I assume he knows this, though. How can he not? I have gone out of my way over and again to elicit his attention, to all but beg him for exactly what this is now. I want to ask him what has changed, by he has come to me this way, as gentle as he has ever been. I want to pry beneath his armor to see the soft insides that make him work, but I am aware as ever of how delicate the balance is.

Push too much and he will be gone as quickly as a fish in the deep water, flinching away from the possibility of this becoming more.

For a creature twice my size, and strong enough to drag me should he wish, he is just as fragile as I am in some ways. More so, I think, though I would never utter such a thing aloud. I may be a fickle, emotional creature prone to dramatics and melancholy, but I am at least aware of more emotions than just anger and lust.

"What can I help with?" I murmur, my voice a whisper against his golden skin. I do not dwell on the last time we spoke, wherein I argued that I wanted to be chosen above Druna. I have made little progress in an attempt to gain strength to fight her, and have more or less accepted that I will not be strong enough to replace her as Garmr's companion unless I grow more wily, more careful.

But he is still the man that I have chosen, and I will make myself of some use to him, if I can. Even if my assistance extends no more than standing here as a post upon which he rests his head.