I crack open the small door to our house, already in the process of shrugging off my large robes of state. As the heavy outer garments fall away, I breathe a sigh of relief, glad to finally be out of the viper's pit they call the senate. Taking just a few moments to let the cool evening air wash over the much smaller and thinner robe of deep blue silk that still covered me, I finally close the door and call out towards the lighted living room, "My dear Rek, I am finally home. You won't believe the utterly stupid notions that Senator Gildwreath has about the upcoming trading season. That dwarf can't understand the basics of negotiation, even if I spend hours battering him around the head with it!" I take a deep breath to calm myself, but as my eyes open, I notice that I cannot see or hear my husband anywhere near.
Taking a few tentative steps forward, I call out again "Rek? I know I'm later than usual, but that's no reason to be so unwelcoming." As I step into the living room, I take a look around, expecting the small, scaled head of the cute little kobold to pop up from under the pillows on our couch or peek around the corner with his usual grin. But the silence settled upon our house makes me incredibly tense, as I know the kobold tends to prefer the night hours, so there should be no reason for Rek to not at least called out a response by now.
I put my hand on the small dagger hanging from my belt, all previous exhaustion vanishing as I stalk through my own house, fully intent on either slapping Rek for whatever prank he's trying to pull here or making the person who might have hurt him pay for their stupidity.
"In the name of Morhaine's Senate, I demand anyone in this home speak out and be identified, or you will be punished to the fullest extent of the law!" I call out, grip tightening on the dagger, daring someone to rush out and let me vent my unease.
Instead, a shadow appears at my bedroom's doorway, one that I instantly recognize in the fading light of the evening. The three foot tall frame of Rek, covered in only red scales, leans heavily against the doorframe, panting heavily from some exertion. Tossing my dagger to the side, I kneel down in front of the kobold and ask "Are you okay, Rek? Did someone hurt you?"
In response, Rek lifts his little head and rasps out "Sorry, Evelynn, it's just... that time of year."
I blush at his answer, very much aware of what he's referencing - mating season for kobolds! Rek is generally a rather humble male by his kind's standards, loving in every regard and quite content to pursue his own goals while I deal with the affairs of law. But looking at the panting face of my kobold husband, and the reptilian shaft jutting upwards in a very noticeable marker of his aroused state, I find myself torn between despair and arousal at the thought of what lies ahead for the next few days.
Kobolds, like many of the races in Morhaine, are humanoid in appearance, but where they differ from most is in their draconic lineage, and part of that lineage is that they enter a rut during their annual mating season, a condition that leaves the male kobolds unable to think about much aside from constant mating for almost three full days, with the side-effect of those same kobolds also becoming incredibly dominant and rough during their mating sessions. Last year, I couldn't even work those three days from how animalistically Rek had been acting, and it seems this mating season is shaping up to be - fortunately or unfortunately - just as physically demanding.