“I would like to watch that one,” they said definitively.
As the movie started, Bryce sat on the opposite end of the couch, and Zef hugged their legs to their chest, studying him from the corner of their eye. If they were to grow more comfortable with physical closeness, they would have to start experimenting. They were already accustomed to the feel and weight of Bryce’s hand in theirs, along with the little touches to their shoulders and arms.
And they liked it. It gave them good tingles—not the bad ones they had experienced last week. They shuddered at the memory. They were so grateful to have their brain-brain back. How anyone existed with a penis-brain full time was a mystery to them.
Dismissing the thoughts of bad tingles and penises, Zef cocked their head at Bryce and flipped through the different ways they could test their touch comfort level. He had communicated that he liked when theytouched him. Did that mean spontaneous touches, or should they ask permission first?
Before they could psyche themself out, they reached out and flattened their hand on the center of Bryce’s chest. The human’s brows raised, and he angled his head in their direction.
“Uh, hey, Zef,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I am testing something,” they explained, and he grinned.
“Care to share with the class?”
They shook their head as they added a second hand, this time to his belly. The flesh gave under their palm, and they rubbed appreciatively. Good tingles prickled over their fingers and traveled up their arms, and they smiled victoriously.
“Good tingles,” they said, and Bryce’s entire countenance lit up at the declaration. “May I lay down and rest my head on your leg?”
Blanketing their hand on his chest, he squeezed. “Yes, I’d like that.”
This time, they moved with more caution, measuring their reaction as they settled on their side, facing the television. Their cheek met rough denim, hot from Bryce’s body, and they slipped a hand between as a barrier so they had something softer to lie on. Nerves and prickles ran up and down their spine as they found a comfortable position.
As the movie played, they tried to pay attention, but most of their brain was cataloging their emotional and physical responses to the cuddling. They were a little uncomfortable on a physical level, their neck bent slightly too far, the roughness of Bryce’s jeans not fully pleasant. But emotionally, they felt okay. They felt safe. It was nice, actually, being close like this.
“Can I”—Bryce’s throat clicked—“play with your hair?”
“Yes,” they whispered, hugging the hot water bottle tighter to their stomach, glad they had something to hold on to.
His touch was gentle, of course, tracing the edge of their hairline, outlining the shell of their ear. Then several more fingers sifted through their hair, and their scalp exploded with goosebumps. They closed their eyes and hummed in pleasure.
Bryce’s fingers faltered at the sound, and they whistled in annoyance. Snuffing a laugh, he continued his ministrations, and they chirped their appreciation. Like Bryce, too, was running his own experiments, he cautiously added pressure to Zef’s scalp, massaging lightly. When they responded positively, he rubbed with more confidence.
Zef was definitely not paying attention to the movie anymore, too busy melting into mush as Bryce massaged their head and ran his fingers through their hair. Their entire body vibrated with pleasure, and they nearly laughed when they remembered Bryce asking if they were jealous of other species’ ability to orgasm.
How very silly he was. They would never trade this for a mere five-second genital splat of wet messiness.
Growing bold, Bryce ran two fingers down the length of Zef’s neck, stopping at their shirt collar and traveling back up. He mapped different routes, curving forward to memorize their throat, then higher to shape their chin. He returned to their hair but always doubled back to their neck.
Eyes closed, floating in euphoria, they thrummed their satisfaction, and Bryce circled their throat, fingers pressing, like he wanted to feel the vibration. They gasped at the possessive hold.
“Do that again,” Bryce said, not quite a request but not a demand either.
They released another thrum, and the human groaned. Then suddenly his hand was gone, and they frowned in disappointment. They opened their eyes and turned, finding Bryce with his head on the back of the couch,arm on his forehead. His hand tightened, then released. Tightened, then released.
With an inquisitive whistle, they got his attention, and he glanced down at them. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I, uh, got a little worked up.”
Their antennas wriggled, tasting the air. Oh, his pheromones were thicker, richer. He was aroused.
“Would you like me to move away?” they asked, but he shook his head.
“No, I just need a minute to calm down,” he admitted with a wink. “Doyouwant to move away?”
Normally, such a change in atmosphere would have repelled them, but Bryce’s pheromones were pleasant, earthy and heady. And they trusted he would not act on them. Plus, there was a part of them that liked that he desired them. It made them feel beautiful and wanted. It was a strange amalgamation of gooey feelings, but they accepted them all.
“I would like to stay here,” they said, and Bryce smiled down at them. “I do not find your body’s reaction repulsive. In fact, I am glad you find me pleasing. Perhaps it makes me selfish, but it is how I feel.”
“I don’t think you’re selfish. I find you very pleasing, Zef.” They clicked in smug satisfaction, preening as Bryce cupped the side of their face. “Hey now, don’t get too big for your britches.”
