Story for the day: Crying

I really do not like crying. I know some who revel in it.  Today was a bad day, but I got a ton of work done.

The boob-grab: effective in anti-crying

Crying

It had been a particularly trying day for the commander. The unwarranted bustle, the unexpected guests whom she could not rid of, the disagreeable business of poor weather, the unfortunate time of having the tides in an unfavourable position. There were many other small remarks and remonstrances  that had disturbed and pained her and where these trifles and comments would have been met with indifference, today she could not forbear her usual good humour. It had been a horrid time and the fatigue from which she suffered had made it all the worse.

Every comment and conjecture made against her and her mate were unwelcome and in poor taste, and though she would ignore it and have her mate kill those who had denounced them, they were not in Frewyn at the moment had little power to do as they wished. The commander could only be thankful that she was returned to tolerable quiet and there in the room she remained in silent indignation.
She sighed into her hand and attempted to enjoy the lit fires and calmness restoring her but she was unfortunately overcome with a wave of hatred and frustration for her circumstance.

A laugh, a smile, a look from her mate would have been enough to secure her but she could only wait until he had returned from his charge. She undressed and decided to wrap herself in her hangaara blanket, reaping the tender scent of the Den Asaan from the pelts. Her threshold had broken when his familiar signature assailed her and she submitted to tears to relieve herself from the stress of the day. It was a business that was common to her sex but it was one she liked not. Every warm tear was strange to her and she quickly wiped them from her face in hopes that they would cease after each one had gone. Her cheeks grew warm, her complexion crimsoned, and she felt such unerring wretchedness overpower her.

She inhaled when she the opportunity was given her and she felt her usual serenity beginning to return to her when she heard the sound of the door open. She smiled to hear the footfalls of her mate and when she turned to him to greet him, sniffing back her tears and wiping the residual away, she suddenly found the Den Asaan's large finger pointing down at her flushed features.

"You will not cry," the giant said with firm conviction.

The commander's eyes forgot their tears and wrinkled with smiles. "Won't I," she laughed, checking her nose to make certain she did not look as horrid as she felt.

"No, you will not." Rautu reaffirmed his point with a fresh stab of his finger.
 "You are my Traala and you will obey my word. No crying."

"And what if you should be the cause of these tears?" she said playfully.

 "I know I am not," the giant humphed.

 The commander canted her head with a smirk of curiosity curling in the corner of her lips. "No, but if you should be?"

The giant narrowed his gaze and descended upon his mate. He loomed over her body and gripped her chin. "Then I would be pleased," he growled at her.

The commander simpered, knowing the giant's attempts to make her laugh were reassurances of his affection, and she kissed him everywhere to thank him for what he had done.