He laughs, bright and warm, and something in my chest settles into place. "Deal."
He soaks for another twenty minutes while I feed him grapes and clementine segments and make him drink more water. He protests that he can feed himself, but he doesn't actually stop me, just opens his mouth obediently every time I hold something up.
Likes being taken care of. Good to know.
Eventually the water starts cooling, and he admits he should probably get out before he prunes permanently. I help him up, wrap him in the biggest towel I own, and dry him off with more gentleness than I usually have in me.
"I don't have clothes," he realizes. "Everything I was wearing is... somewhere."
"Floor. Multiple locations." I'd been enthusiastic about getting him undressed. "I've got shirts."
"Your shirts will be enormous on me."
"Good." I meet his eyes. "Then everyone will know who you belong to."
He shivers. Not from cold. I file that away: likes being claimed publicly. Interesting. Useful.
I find him my smallest t-shirt—a black one that still hangs off his shoulders and exposes his collarbones. His jeans from yesterday are salvageable, though I'll need to textVaughn about borrowing something better fitting for his actual commute.
He looks thoroughly debauched even dressed. The shirt collar is too wide, showing off the marks on his neck in all their purple glory. His lips are still swollen. He moves carefully, obviously sore, and something in me wants to apologize for that at the same time that my lion wants to preen about it.
Mine. Everyone who sees him today will know he's mine.
"Stop looking at me like that," he says, but he's smiling.
"Like what?"
"Like you want to eat me."
"I do want to eat you. Already did, actually." I let my grin go sharp. "Several times."
His face goes scarlet. "Knox!"
"What? It's true." I pull him close, careful of his sore body, and he comes willingly into my arms. "And I'm going to do it again. Tonight. After your shift."
"I might need a day to recover."
"Then tomorrow."
"Okay."
"And you'll stay this weekend."
"I have to work Saturday—"
"After work. You'll come here."
He looks up at me, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Are you asking or telling?"
"Which do you prefer?"
He considers for a moment. Then he goes up on his toes, kisses me soft and sweet, and murmurs against my lips: "Telling. Definitely telling."
My lion rumbles with satisfaction. Perfect. He's absolutely perfect.
"I need coffee before I go anywhere," he says. "And maybe pants that actually fit? These are going to be awkward on public transit."
"You're not taking public transit." I'm already texting Vaughn about borrowing clothes, then Jason about driving. "Jason will take you."
