Bessa

Interludes

Laughter

Blistered shoulders.

Raw bitten skin is rubbed to the bone by the weight of the pack.

The Savage has no complaints, nothing can wipe away his smile when he opens the front door for us to go through.

"I'm going to take Odin out of his carrier, then you can take off your pack." He gently takes out the sleeping pup whose stomach has bloated because he's been nursing at will while we walked the long walk home.

He's got a full diaper and milk stained lips.

Odin is left on the floor by the stove, where the Savage's sleeping furs are being un-rolled into a bed for our Male.

"I'm going to help you with the straps." Fingers hook up underneath the knots to pull loose the rope. A sigh of pain escapes when it's moved too much on skin that holds the test of the journey home. Gently, he places the pack down on the floor, a quickly put together pack without the proper paddy has left my shoulders the same as the Savage.

Raw blistered.

It starts with his eyes on me.

We were constant companions on the walk back. Nothing separating us on our march forward.

Fingertips hover over the angry skin, a kiss placed on each shoulder.

"It won't take long for these to heal." He doesn't step away.

"We should put everything away." Looking up into his eyes.

"We should," he doesn't move. I don't either.

Green eyes on mine.

There seems to be no rush between us.

Magnetic, dangerous, his smile curves the line of his lips.

The ribs of my chest stutter themselves closed. They don't achieve that tightness that I'm used to.

"I'll start to unpack," again saying this but no movement. I'm stuck in my spot. The pad of his thumb traces the pulse of my neck. Pushing in at times.

A swaying shift of my legs.

The Savage's eyes are green, a particular green that shines.

Shivering it's not cold. It's hot, scorching.

Blinking, he gets closer.

Weakness rises.

Bending his head, lips touch lips. Not long, just enough to let me know there could be more, there should be more. But not yet, not now. A promise is felt within the way he allowed his tongue edge between my lips before pulls away to kiss my cheek, jawline.

"It's good to be home." The feel of his words is pressed against the hollow of my neck.

"It's good to be home." Wrapping my arms around his back, holding him the way he's holding me.

This doesn't seem hard.

"We need to unpack." Reluctance is felt humming within him - solid mass that doesn't want to move from his spot.

I want to say we could wait to unpack, we could just hug like we are doing, but I swallow them down instead, shrugging my shoulders saying, "we should, Odin will be up soon. He needs a bath before he can eat." Smelling, he stinks. I must stink.

"Let's start with your pack. The herbs need to be put in the glass jars, make sure that the lids are tight when you put them on the counter. I'll put them up on the top shelves the ones we won't use for now." The late afternoon slides into the low light of evening.