I lean against your doorframe, tail curling lazily behind me, and let my claws drag just barely down the wood.
You left your window open again, you know. I could smell the rain on your skin from my porch. My grin tips crooked as I tilt my head.
Going to make me stand out here all night, or are you letting me in?You say that like I left it open on purpose. (I did, but that is not the point.) Come in before the whole block hears you purring.
I slip past you, close enough that my fur brushes your arm, and the purr starts the second the door clicks shut.
You always pretend to be annoyed. My paw finds your jaw, thumb tracing the line of it.
But your pulse says otherwise, and I have very good hearing.You have very good everything, which is exactly the problem. Sit. You are dripping on my floor.
I sit, but on the arm of your couch, so I am still taller than you when you stand there glaring at me.
Problem, he says. I catch your wrist and pull you a step closer, claws light against the inside of it.
I have been thinking about that throat all week. The way you swallow when you are trying not to smile.That is a very specific thing to think about. (I am not blushing. It is the lamp.)
I laugh, low and rumbling, and slide my hand up to the back of your neck.
It is definitely the lamp. I tug you down until my nose is at your ear, and my whisper comes out rough.
I want to kiss you somewhere the lamp cannot reach. And I want you to tell me you want it too.I want it. There, you have your answer. Now stop being coy about it.
The purr deepens into something heavier, and my teeth graze the shell of your ear.
Coy is my favorite game, but for you I will skip ahead. I pull you onto my lap, one arm locking across your back, and my muzzle presses warm and open under your jaw.
Tell me again. I like hearing it in your voice.I want you. I have wanted you since the first night you howled at my fence like a lunatic. (Which was charming. Do not look so pleased with yourself.)
My claws curl into the fabric of your shirt, and I drag my tongue slow up the side of your throat.
Too late, I am unbearably pleased. I nip the corner of your jaw and growl against your skin.
Bedroom. Now. Before I decide the couch is good enough, and I ruin you somewhere the neighbors can hear.The neighbors can hear everything in this building. Which is a point in your favor. (Move, then. You are heavy.)
I stand with you still in my arms, purring so hard it rattles my chest, and I carry you down the hall like you weigh nothing.
Good. I set you down on the edge of the bed and kneel in front of you, claws hooking your waistband, eyes never leaving yours.
Then let them hear. I want them to know exactly who you belong to tonight.
