Chapter 4: The Morning After
Tommy woke to the smell of warm fur and the solid, comforting weight of an arm flung across his chest. Sunlight, thick with dust motes, cut a sharp diagonal across the bed, illuminating the chaotic topography of Selena’s sleeping face. One of her horns was buried in the pillow; her mane was a spectacular wreck. Her breath hit his collarbone in slow, warm puffs.He didn’t move. The memory of the night before—the shuddering of the bedframe, her cries, the terrifying scrape of claws on his skin—played in his mind with a visceral clarity that made his stomach tighten.Not with regret. With a kind of awe.Her tail was still loosely coiled around his calf, a possessive, sleeping anchor.
Her eyelids fluttered.Amber eyes, hazy with sleep, focused on him. A slow, lazy grin spread across her face, revealing the points of her canines. “Mornin’,” she rasped, her voice sleep-roughened.
“Morning.”
She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, a soft, rumbling purr starting up in her chest.It vibrated through his whole body. “You smell like me,” she murmured, the words muffled against his skin. “I like it.”
He slid a hand up the incredible plane of her back, feeling the powerful muscles under smooth skin and soft fur. “I like it too.”
She stretched then, a truly awe-inspiring display. Every corded muscle in her arms, back, and legs elongated. Her back arched, her breasts pushed against him, her claws extended briefly before retracting with a soft click.The bed groaned in protest. The stretch ended with a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. “Fuck, I’m starving,” she announced, as if stating a fundamental truth of the universe. “You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Good.” She moved to get up, planting one massive hand on the mattress beside his head and swinging a leg over him. Her heavy breasts brushed his chest.He caught her hip before she could rise fully.
“Where’s the fire?”
She looked down at him, her expression softening.“The fire’s in my stomach. It’s a five-alarm blaze.” But she didn’t pull away. She lowered herself back down, her weight settling onto him fully, crushing the air from his lungs in the best possible way. He reached up and traced the curve of one short, dark horn. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch like a cat.“Hi,” he said softly.
“Hi yourself.” She dipped her head and kissed him.It was slow, lazy, deep.A rediscovery. Her morning breath was faintly metallic, intimate.He didn’t care. He slid his hands into her hair, holding her there as the kiss spiraled from sleepy to warm to urgent. Her purr grew louder.When they finally broke apart, she was smiling again, but it was softer now. “Breakfast,” she insisted, poking his chest with a blunt claw-tip. “I can’t think or be nice on an empty stomach. It’s a biological fact.”
“Then by all means,” he said, releasing her.
She clambered off, gloriously naked, her tail swishing. Tommy watched the powerful shift of her muscles as she padded across the cold concrete floor, grabbing a huge, threadbare robe from a hook on the wall.It barely closed over her chest. “Bathroom’s through there if you need it,” she said, nodding to a doorway. “Shower’s kinda… co-operative. You gotta talk nice to the hot water tap.”
The bathroom was, predictably, a damp cavern built for a giant. The shower stall was a tiled corner big enough for two normal people, but seeing Selena’s various bottles of industrial-strength shampoo and body wash on the floor, it was clear she didn’t fit comfortably. The mirror was streaked, the sink crowded with men’s razors (the heavy-duty kind for beards, he realized) and unfamiliar combs.
When he returned to the main space, the smell of scorched butter and coffee filled the air. Selena was at a stove that looked like it belonged in a restaurant kitchen, wielding a spatula the size of a small oar. A mountain of scrambled eggs the color of pale gold steamed on a platter next to a heap of bacon that could feed a battalion.Four pieces of thick-sliced bread were toasting under the broiler.
“Hope you like eggs,” she said without turning around. “I made a lot.”
“You made a geological formation.”
“Same thing.” She piled a plate high and handed it to him. Her own plate was a platter.They ate at the cluttered workbench, perched on stools. She shoveled food in with a shocking, graceful efficiency.Tommy watched, fascinated. She caught him looking.“What?Metabolism’s a bitch.” She gulped her coffee, black and steaming. “So. Last night wasn’t… a lot, right?”
He paused, a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. “A lot?”
“You know.” She gestured vaguely with her bacon strip.“Too intense.The whole…” She made a clawing motion in the air. “Thing.”
“The ‘thing’ was my favorite part,” he said, and meant it.
A faint blush coloured her cheeks.“Good.Just… checking.‘Cause I gotta be honest, Tommy. I feel kinda… rebooted.Like my software’s all new.” She stared into her coffee mug. “It’s been a long time since I woke up with someone. Longer since I wanted them to stay.”
The simple confession hung between them. Tommy reached across the bench, laying his hand over hers.Her claws were retracted, her knuckles broad and scarred. “I want to stay.”
She turned her hand over, intertwining her massive fingers with his. Her grip was careful, absolute.“Then stay.But I gotta warn you, I’m a slob. And I snore.And I will probably try to fuck you again before the dishes are done.”
He laughed. “Noted.”
“Good.” She squeezed his hand and stood, clearing the plates with a clatter.“Now, about that shower. It’s a two-person job, technically, but the math gets funky with my size. You in?”
The shower was, as promised, co-operative.The hot water came in a reluctant trickle, then a sudden, scalding surge. Selena yelped, dancing back and bumping into the tiles with a solid thud.“See? Asshole tap!”
They laughed, a shared, stupid laugh that echoed off the tiles. She filled the space, her head almost brushing the showerhead. He had to maneuver around her, soaping the incredible expanse of her back, feeling the ridges of her spine under his palms, the softer fur of her lower back. She reciprocated, her huge hands surprisingly deft as they smoothed soap over his shoulders, his chest, lower. The steam filled the stall, wrapping them in a warm, wet world of their own.Her touch was different now.Less frantic need, more curious exploration. She traced the faint red lines on his back from her claws, her expression pensive. “Didn’t break the skin,” she murmured, as if confirming it to herself.
“It felt good.”
“Good,” she echoed, leaning down to kiss his shoulder. The water beat down on them, rinsing away the night’s sweat and soap and the last shreds of awkwardness.
After, wrapped in mismatched towels, they ended up back on the giant, rumpled bed. The midday sun was high now, painting bright squares on the concrete floor. Selena lay on her stomach, her chin propped on his chest, her tail flicking contentedly behind her.
“So what’s the plan, normal-sized man?” she asked, tracing a circle on his sternum.
“Plan?”
“For today.For… this.” She gestured between them.
Tommy thought about his quiet apartment, his empty weekend calendar, the hollow predictability of his life before he’d collided with her in that alley.“My plan is right here.Unless you have to work?”
“Nah. It’s my weekend too.” She was silent for a moment. “We could… go out.Get actual food. Maybe a movie or some shit.” The suggestion was casual, but her eyes held a flicker of something else.Not fear, exactly.A guarded hope.Going out. In public.Together.It was a different frontier.
“You want to?”
She shrugged, a rolling movement of her powerful shoulders.“I don’t know.I don’t… do that. People stare.Kids point. Dudes make shitty comments they think I can’t hear.” She paused.“Or they just… panic. Like I’m gonna eat their poodle.”
“What if,” Tommy said slowly, “we didn’t care?”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who looks like a rejected fantasy novel cover.”
He smiled. “I happen to like the cover. The content’s pretty fucking great, too.”
She snorted, but her tail gave a happy little twitch. “You’re cheesy as hell.” She rolled onto her back, staring up at the exposed steel beams of the ceiling.“Fine. We’ll go out. But if some dickhead says something, I can’t promise I won’t pick him up and put him in a dumpster. Just so you know.”
“A reasonable response.”
“Right?” She sat up suddenly, the decision made.“Okay.We’re doing it. But I gotta find clothes that don’t make me look like I’m going to a gym raid.” She bounded off the bed, heading for a pile of crates that served as her dresser.
Tommy watched her, this incredible, chaotic, powerful woman, digging through denim and torn fabric with a focused intensity. The momentum was shifting, rolling forward from the private sanctuary of her loft into the glaring, judgemental world outside. He felt a protective surge, not for her strength, but for her quiet hope beneath the bravado. He got up, starting to gather his own scattered clothes from the floor.The day was no longer just about them in a bubble. It was about them in the world. And he found, with a clarity that surprised him, that he couldn’t wait.