Most men would be glad to have a happy wife. But for Regulus, it was a bit harder than most. Make no mistake, he loved his wife, but he was only a man. Sure, he was a hero and a prime specimen of a human male. He was a goddamned legend, the hero of the lion, the warrior of the Seven armies. They called him Lionheart, but the fact was that was his name. It was his father who named him Regulus Gray Lionheart jr for apparently he was the third to have that name in his family. Now discount the fact he had married an enemy combatant and had left his very prominent job as commander to become a farmer–that was merely a footnote to the man. His mind wandered as he worked the fields.
His wife was an eight-foot mountain of a woman of mixed species who cooked, cleaned, and did all the other housework in her simple pink sun dress. His wife's ability to cast magic strong enough to break a mountain and her classification as a demon made it less amazing. That alone would have been enough to get the town into a riot and have many would-be heroes attack his little farm. Those, however, were secondary to his major concern, his wife's appetite. If it were merely food, then he would only have to work harder on the farm, or maybe do a bit more hunting. No–it was a more sexual matter. She just would not stop.
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Often a cuddle would lead into at least three rounds of vigorous sex then a minute of kissing only before sleep, only to begin again in the morning. His life became a marathon. Everything was just so exhausting. Toiling in the fields was even as his body begged for him to rest, but that was just another trap. Resting under his veranda would only lead to another session of an even more labor-intensive event with his wife. And then the kids? They would hear everything.It was a miracle he could still function at this point. He ate like a cow, but was barely more than a stick. His muscles had long since lost their bulk and luster. His once lustrous hair had streaks of white hair and his face was a hollowed mask. Stress lines and tired eyes chiseled it out. Still, he worked in the fields, and worked as hard as at least ten men. Thankfully, he had children to help out, but that was another issue entirely.
Their family was enormous. Over a baker dozen and they just kept coming.If he really tried, he could make them an elite platoon within the month. It was funny, at least to him once the outstanding commander sent infants who he was damn sure could take out any threat. His laughter set him falling over his hoe, hitting the ground. His eldest son started to help him up, but finally, he had made up his mind. Getting back to work, he started to think and prepare himself to speak with his wife. He hoped she would understand–but with her, it may just lead to another session.