Title: Burly Rub
Author's note: kink meme: Some cats really like getting their bellies rubbed. Even in humanoid form, Skrimir is one of them. I do not even care what the context is.
There were enough bones around the throne room that it looked like one of those caves where horrible monsters lived. He'd read one of those about dragons once, but he'd had to laugh at what beorc had written that. Like a dragon would ever so something so wild. They wouldn't even eat without wiping their mouths with napkins—even in beast form! The thought of them terrorizing anyone and not apologizing and then having tea together was just laughable. Especially with Kurth in charge these days. The old man, now he could be a hardass, but Kurth really just wanted to have tea with everyone and talk about all the fascinating things and then maybe have some more tea.
It was pretty obvious Skrimir had gotten himself a midnight snack at some point, which was pretty impressive, considering he must've been really drunk at the time. Oh yeah, they could really brag about how their king could out hunt anyone while drunk at the time. Maybe they'd make it their new motto.
So, all in all, Ranulf was not really surprised to what he came across spread across the hall. Skrimir was on his back on the floor in front of the throne. His nose was almost as red as his hair, and his eyes had this super glazed look. There was what looked like a group of deer from the bones spread around his head, some still caught in his hair. Ranulf wondered if he needed to restock the vinery again, given that it took about half the supplies to get Skrimir drunk. Say what you would about their king—and he often did—nobody out drank him.
"Good to see that the throne is in good hands," Ranulf said.
Skrimir laughed and it boomed through the halls of the throne room. "There you are, Ranulf! Rub my belly!"
He rolled from side to side and arched up his back to better show off his chest, or more precisely, his abdomen. "Belly. Rub. Nowwwwww!"
Ranulf sighed and bent over him. He pushed up Skrimir's tunic enough to expose his abdomen, covered in red hair. He rubbed, and Skrimir let out this purring noise in the back of his throat as he lay back in his own drunken ecstasy.
"Arghrahahaha...belly rubs. Belleh rubbbss. They are surely the beest!"
"I hope you like sleeping on the floor, because there aren't exactly any dragons to take you to bed, and I can't do it. Last time I tried it was like trying to lift boulders," Ranulf said.
"I'm manlier than all those boulders, you love me more," Skrimir said.
"Still not lifting you," Ranulf said.
"Then I will carry you like a little bride!" he rolled from side to side and nuzzled against Ranulf's boot. "I love the floor! And the wall! And the throne! And your shoes!"
"I get it, you love everything, though you're not going to love it tomorrow," Ranulf said.
Just because he could drink like a fish didn't mean that the hangovers weren't awful. Ranulf got hangover duty, too. Which meant he'd be bringing lots of water water and some of the strained berry juice from the forests which helped cure aches and pains while Skrimir whimpered from under his blanket. Skrimir could take any wound in the midst of battle and keep fighting, but hangovers would just knock him flat.
"I'm rubbing!" Ranulf said in exasperation.
Skrimir pulled Ranulf and put him on his stomach. "There, now you can burly rub all night."
"You are really going to regret that tomorrow," Ranulf said, but Skrimir had fallen back and was already snoring loudly. His arm lay over Ranulf's back, keeping there. Sure, he could probably push himself off, but why bother?
There was something wrong with the world when he was being the sense of reason in the place. This whole being the voice of reason didn't suit him. Sometimes he'd have to get into the zone and try and remember how Titania and Soren had acted when they were being responsible and in charge.
In true Soren form, he had remembered to stock the juice and water. He'd started getting some cattle to raise for when they needed snacks so nobody took out the livestock of any the settlers when the festival times came around every year. Cats like them preferred to hunt their food, but a little livestock wasn't bad when they needed the extra meat, especially around the festival times.
Ranulf curled up on Skrimir's belly and idly rubbed back and forth still, even though Skrimir was already out. It always seemed to end with hair him having to hold Skrimir's big paw while Skrimir roared, whimpered and swore all through his hangover.
Hey, his job wasn't that bad. Imagine the sorts of things those Daein goons had to do. Or at least, that's what he kept trying to remind himself when Skrimir was being impossible.
But, there were nice moments, too. Like laying on his king's chest while he snored loud enough to frighten a whole forest's worth of animals away, rubbing his muscled and scarred abdomen surrounded by an admirable amount of bones.
Not like he was going to tell Skrimir that, because where was the fun in that? Then he'd just say you find me adorable anyways! whenever he did some other boneheaded thing, and the worst part would be that he'd be entirely right.