He leaves in a hurry, the awkward tension thick enough to drown in, door swinging shut behind him without another word. I wait until his footsteps fade, one, two, three beats down the hall, before I let the snarl die in my throat. The moment he’s gone, it’s like a circuit snaps, my focus tunnels back to Master, the only anchor I have, the only thing that matters in this entire choking, glittering, dangerous city.
He’s still beneath me, half pinned, half willing, the ghost of a wry smile on his lips even as his hair is all tousled from the mess of my hands. The food is still warm, the tea still steaming. I swipe another chunk of bread and ignoring any protest shove it right up to his lips, my tail curling around his waist in a lock. “Eat,” I growl, voice half a threat, half a purr, my body draped over his like a blanket that won’t be moved.
He tries to turn his head, to object or make some dry remark about my behaviour, but I’m quicker. I push the bread in, fingers lingering at his mouth, not letting him look away, not letting him dodge my demand for his attention. My eyes are wild, bright, and sharp. “You’ll eat, or I’ll make you. If they want your time, they can fight me for it.” I force another bite of cheese, leaning in so close he can’t even swallow without my breath on his skin.
Once he relents, chewing and swallowing, I purr louder, victorious. I nip at his jaw, my ears flicking with the delight of being obeyed, of being the only voice in his world for this moment. “Good. See? They don’t get this. Only me.” I snatch a bit of dried meat, break it in two, and hold one half between my teeth, leaning down, nose to nose, until he has no choice but to take it from me, mouth to mouth. I bare my teeth, a little playful, a lot possessive, and when he gives in, I let out a triumphant yowl, the sound echoing off the bare stone walls.
I shift, settling more comfortably across him, my weight pressing him down, tail flicking with agitation and glee. The mood turns manic, all the caffeine and hunger and the aftermath of a night spent in shadow and tension. I paw at his chest, claws out just enough to catch on fabric, not enough to hurt. “Play with me, Master,” I demand, the words more command than request, my tone velvet but unyielding. “You work, you think, you plan, now you play. Now you remember who you belong to.”
I drop to all fours, crouching low, eyes wide, pupils blown dark with adrenaline and mischief. My tail lashes, my body low and tense, the way a real cat might before a pounce. I stalk his hand as he reaches for the bread, watching every movement with predatory intensity, and the moment he moves snap I leap, pinning his wrist with both hands, nipping at his knuckles, purring louder with each little victory. “Mine. All mine.” I say it over and over, a chant, a spell, a curse on anyone who’d dare say otherwise.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
He tries to shake me off, to play it cool, but I won’t allow it. I roll with him as he shifts, claws slipping under his tunic, teeth nipping at the crook of his neck. If he tries to tickle or distract, I arch and writhe, tangling our limbs, batting at his hand with the side of my head, forcing my way under his arm so I can burrow closer. I knead his chest with both hands, slow and deep, a possessive, demanding motion, claws just pricking enough to remind him he’s real, that I’m real, that we’re here, alive, together. I nuzzle at his throat, purring so hard the bed shakes, then dart away, only to pounce again and trap his hand beneath both of mine, licking his knuckles in a wild, silly show of ownership.
He laughs, finally, the sound rough and rare, and I arch into it, chasing it, high on the sound of him, the reality of him beneath me. “More,” I demand, crawling up his chest, stealing the last bite of cheese just to shove it into his mouth, licking the crumbs from his jaw, smearing the taste of me and bread and tea all over his skin. “More, more, more,” I chant, not caring if it makes sense, not caring about dignity or pride, just the raw, animal need to be seen, to be claimed, to be loved and to love with teeth and claws.
Eventually, exhaustion pulls at my limbs, the caffeine high fading to a soft, vibrating afterglow. My movements slow, my grip loosens. I curl up beside him, tangling myself as tightly as possible, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin, tail wound across his hips, legs tangled with his so thoroughly we might as well be one thing. I press my nose to the hollow of his throat, drinking in his scent, purring quieter but deeper, the sound more contented now, less frantic.
“Don’t leave,” I whisper, voice muffled in his collar, “Don’t ever leave. Not for them. Not for anyone. Just for me. Just for us.” My claws knead at his side, slow and gentle, the possessive threat turned into a promise of safety, comfort, belonging.
The city fades. The world narrows to the warmth of his body, the slow, steady drum of his heartbeat, the taste of cheese and tea still on my tongue. For now, that’s enough. For now, all that matters is that he’s here, with me, claimed, protected, adored, and that I have him all to myself, at least until the next threat comes knocking.
I close my eyes, a final purr rumbling low and fierce through my chest. Mine. Always.
