[Nikolai sets his mind to eating, as if it's a complex task that requires his undivided attention. He pretends that nothing is out of the ordinary. He isn't aching softly with arousal at the table. He doesn't notice her tail lifting, her body's way of begging for touch, and that doesn't send desire pulsing through his blood. His heart is not hammering in his chest.
As Konoha rambles on, that protective urge growling somewhere deep inside amplifies in pitch. It unfurls, much like his wings right now. With a flex of his shoulders, his leathery wings spread wide without any input from him. An instinct, perhaps, to make himself appear larger. Capable of shielding her.]
I could help you.
[The words are out before he's even thought about what he means by them. It's the draconic instinct beating underneath his skin, heightening his perpetual desire to be useful, to solve problems, to be the one to set it right. It's his old loneliness, mirrored in Konoha. Here without her husband. Here with breeding heat and nobody to turn to. His whole being aches for her in this moment.
Nikolai's hand returns to hers, covering where it curves around the tea cup. His expression is as earnest as his voice.]
Let me... [He never stumbles over his words, but he does now. They're coming up faster than he can think better of them.] Let me take care of you, Konoha.
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As Konoha rambles on, that protective urge growling somewhere deep inside amplifies in pitch. It unfurls, much like his wings right now. With a flex of his shoulders, his leathery wings spread wide without any input from him. An instinct, perhaps, to make himself appear larger. Capable of shielding her.]
I could help you.
[The words are out before he's even thought about what he means by them. It's the draconic instinct beating underneath his skin, heightening his perpetual desire to be useful, to solve problems, to be the one to set it right. It's his old loneliness, mirrored in Konoha. Here without her husband. Here with breeding heat and nobody to turn to. His whole being aches for her in this moment.
Nikolai's hand returns to hers, covering where it curves around the tea cup. His expression is as earnest as his voice.]
Let me... [He never stumbles over his words, but he does now. They're coming up faster than he can think better of them.] Let me take care of you, Konoha.