Thinking about my time with Cy, I couldn’t find a single thing in our bedroom gymnastics adventures that felt even remotely wrong to me.
Cy knew what he was doing. While I very much appreciated this and enjoyed reaping the benefits, a part of me was jealous of the idea of him learning all of this experience with someone else.
With Elm it had felt like equal footing when we got down to naked fun times, two clearly inexperienced fumblers raring to go.
A little record scratched in my head, warning me to never compare the two in any way, shape, or form ever again.
Elm left, mumbling his regret.
Cy is here. He doesn’t appear to be going anywhere, and whether he really means it or not we’re both enjoying this game we’ve been playing where he claims I’m his and I deny it.
My denials were getting very weak, the more this went on. That’s the part that scares me.
Unwrapping myself from the blanket cocoon I woke up in, I pulled the fluffy bit of whatever the heck was tickling the top of my head off of me. Fur? Purple… fur?
Sitting up, I jerked the softest, fluffiest blanket ever into my lap and stared at it.
This one was not one of mine. Nor had it been unearthed from this house. I knew that for a fact.
It was Cy’s? He’d wrapped me up in it?
Bringing it to my face, I ran my cheek along it and a small, goofy, stupid little smile tugged at my lips. He’d given me his blankie. It smelled like him, like he used it often.
It was a soft shade of lavender of the likes I’d never seen before— not exactly something I’d have pictured Cy ever owning, let alone to the point he took it with him and kept it in his truck— he was black, blue, plaid, denim, in that order— and it was softer than anything else I’d ever felt. Turning it over, I frowned at the double-sided fur on it. Barely visible seams along the sides told me this monstrous thing was folded in half and sewn closed. Was it fake fur? Dyed? What freaking animal could it possibly be from? A fantasy themed faux fur blanket? It was unique, one of a kind. Was Cy aware I was into this kind of stuff? It was rightup my alley. I’ve just never had the money to splurge on pretty luxuries like this. It looked as expensive as it felt.
My fingers ran over it absently, smoothing across it lovingly.
Mine. The thought slammed into my head.
I loved purple. It was my first favorite color, followed closely by black, pink, and orange. Glancing around, I bit my lip. Would Cy miss this thing if I hid it?
As if thinking of him summoned him, the man himself popped his head into my bedroom.
“Thought heard noise.” Blue eyes zeroed in on me hugging my brand new, super soft and comfy blanket.
“Sucks to be you, this is mine now,” I blurted, clutching my brand new, favorite, world’s softest blanket ever to my chest.
Instead of any kind of protest, an argument as per usual with Cy, he smiled and nodded. “Yours,” he said simply.
Swallowing thickly as my body reacted to his softly crooned response, the good feels shivers breaking out all over my flesh, his eyes flashed with heat and he looked eager to show how many other ways he could make me tremble in response to him when I made out a faint sizzle and pop and finally glanced away from his face long enough to notice the spatula in his hand.
Eyes widening, I gave a small, experimental sniff. Bacon.
As if in response to the smell as it hit my nose, my stomach began to growl.
Cy’s grin widened, until he was flashing a set of sharp canines that hung lower than the rest of his even, white teeth my way, no half smile with a peek of teeth.
Another genetic anomaly maybe? Lots of people had fangy-like canines. Perhaps I’d just never really noticed this about him before? A big smiler, Cy was not.
It was easy enough to explain away.
“Come. I feed my female,” he rumbled out happily, then popped right back out the doorway to hum to himself as he strode back towards the kitchen.
“My female?” I echoed. “Okay, Conan,” I jokingly called back softly.
“That Mr. Barbarian to my Pru!” he laughingly shot back.
Slipping from the bed, I shivered as my feet met cold wood floor. I noticed it then, the neatly folded flannel in varying shades of blue, a dark grey t-shirt, and what appeared to be a raggedy pair of grey sweats. Atop all of that was a fresh pair of my dad’s thick thermal socks.
