by Flynn Eire
“That’s the feeling we get. It’s a pull you mostly don’t realize is happening. Sure, you knew you were tired, but to fall asleep before your head hits the pillow is way more extreme, and stopping yourself from being tugged under is near impossible.”
“So, what? There’s no hope for you guys and you always get dragged under?”
“No, we learn to control it,” Bronx chuckled, taking another drag from his smoke. “You could stop that kind of sleep if you needed to—a baby doesn’t. We start there with our powers, you know that. But that’s how it feels, especially the first time we’re around it and feel it. It’s like a dream or hypnosis and we all of a sudden realize it’s happened, we’re there doing whatever.”
“How did it happen for you?” I knew what Foster meant, though it was maybe not the best way to ask. Then again, it was all a bit convoluted, so maybe there wasn’t a right way to ask?
Bronx snorted, dropping his smoke on the ground and putting it out with his shoe. “I had snuck out with some friends to go off campus in middle school. We took a bus far, really far into the nearest big city. We had no plans, we just wanted to go to say we’d gone. Such rebels we were. But it was my first time in a mall. I remember feeling light headed, things echoing a bit in my head and as if the floor shifted on me.
“Then suddenly—and in what felt like the blink of an eye—security guards were coming at me as I made a huge pile of everything from the jewelry store I’d walked into and started smashing display cases. I had shoved a few clerks away, busted cases, and was maybe making a pile for me to roll around in. Who knows? I still can’t tell you what I had planned since it felt so distant from the real me, the person who did that.”
“Wow, that is bad,” Foster muttered, nodding. “Thanks for explaining it better. I kinda get it now.”
“You can’t. Not until you experience it. It’s just not something, unless felt first hand, that people can ever get,” Bronx chastised gently. “We’re warned it’s going to happen to us, trained to be careful, and yet, the first time we’re around something new our element sparks in us, we go into a trance I can’t fully put into words. I would bet money Pierce didn’t realize you guys were having sex, I mean consciously realize it, until the end of or after the second time. That’s why there was a third because the haze made him miss so much.”
“Yeah, actually I can exactly understand that feeling,” Foster whispered, tears filling his eyes. “It’s how I would describe the state I’m in when I scream and then I pretty much always pass out. The pull to use it when I’m scared or in trouble sounds just like you explained that pull towards your element. It’s alluring. It might be silly, but I always visualize some seductive demon with horns and crazy attire crooking his finger at me to follow him to the dark side instead of the cartoon version.”
I glanced at Bronx, and we both burst out laughing… Even if the conversation topic wasn’t funny at all, what he said and didn’t understand yet was hysterical.
“Yeah, talking with two demons, just caught that. Shoot me now,” he grumbled, squirming in my arms, trying to get down.
All he really did was get his gown to ride up to the point I got hard.
“Hey, it’s fine. We don’t judge, and I use ‘screaming like a banshee’ all the time as if I was a human who didn’t understand what that really meant. We’re paranormal, not perfect.” Bronx smiled and patted Foster on the head. That was one of the great things about my team leader—he was easy going and always at someone’s back who needed it.
“Let’s get you changed for your party,” I offered when Foster still seemed pretty down. Granted, the day had to have wiped him… Fuck, that week must have upset and drained him given it seemed he now had a mild and calm life in Diego’s crest.
But what came out of his mouth not five minutes later when we were back in his room shocked me.
“I don’t want to go. I don’t feel like being the center of attention after shaming myself all day and my head—it’s not where it should be. I’m all confused, and nothing is what I thought it was a few days ago.”
“Because of me.” I made it a statement instead of a question, though it probably was both, as I didn’t know if it was all me.
“Yes, but I’m also glad that I know the truth now. It just opened up too many feelings I thought were gone, I assumed were gone after what happened, and I feel very weak.”
I thought about that as I set him on his feet, letting the door to his room close behind us. He walked over to his dresser and hid what he pulled out—which meant it was underwear if he acted so discretely—and then headed towards the closet. I turned away, figuring his intent was changing, and as much as I wanted to look, it didn’t feel right being a leering creep.
I’d done enough of that at the photo shoot.
“You can look now. Thanks,” Foster muttered a few minutes later. “It’s funny how many things I’d forgotten, consumed with the last time we saw each other and the aftermath. But now it’s like slowly the flood gates are opening and I—so much is coming back to me about the way you are.”
“Huh?”
He smiled as he walked in front of me, tucking the gown into a bag—probably to have it dry cleaned—and then faced me. “I’d forgotten how you always turned away when I changed even when we shared a room. You were always polite like that.”
“I wasn’t being polite. I knew if I saw you naked, I would jump you,” I admitted, not willing to take any compliments I didn’t deserve. He bobbed his head, and I realized there was only one word that could describe Foster at the moment—tired. He appeared exhausted. “Look, I know you’re not up for this party, but I really think it would be good for you to cut loose a bit. I swear I will behave and make sure everyone else does, so go tie one off hard core. I mean, you’re finally legal to drink all over the world, right?”
“Yeah, it would be nice to feel safe. I am here, and Diego would never let anything happen to me, but I never feel as safe as I used to when we were friends before—” He snapped his mouth shut and headed towards the door. Foster left so fast in a fluster that he didn’t even notice that my gift to him was still next to the door. Goof. I picked it up, chuckling as I followed after him to the room on the first floor that the dorm used for parties.
And what a party it was. Rich people knew how to live it up, that was for sure.
“Crepes? Really?” Foster gushed, standing in the entrance next to Spyros, his eyes darting all around the large room.
“You don’t hide they’re your favorite, so there’s a crepe bar with every imaginable topping—breakfast, sandwich, or like how certain countries serve them for dinner with chicken or seafood… I think. I don’t know, Major and Professor Aeneas handled that. I took care of the cake, and oh my gods, did you know cake sampling isn’t just in the movies or chick books or for weddings? Gwen and I went to this ritzy place Diego insisted had the best cakes in the world, and they made littles cakes just for us to try.”
“I ate my body weight in cake that day,” Gwen chuckled, appearing from off to the left. He shot me an unfriendly but covert glance, not wanting to make a scene on Foster’s big day. “We were both in such a sugar coma it was hard to decide who should drive home. We hope you like it though. They were really nice, and since we couldn’t decide between the awesome options, they let us have one on each tier.”
“Thanks guys,” Foster sniffled, staring over Gwen’s shoulder. I looked too, and my mouth almost fell open. His cake was bigger than wedding cakes from movies. For a birthday? Wow. “Today’s all better now knowing you guys did this all for me. I can’t believe you did.”
“You’re the one who does it for the crest always. Seriously, I don’t think any of us knew how much work you handled doing this stuff since Major gave that job to you.”
“I like doing it. I do better behind the scenes,” Foster muttered to Gwen, and I could tell he was past being embarrassed and needed a break.
I stepped up and patted his shoulder, lettin
g him know it was okay. “I’m starving, and with such a festive event, you’re going to attract in stragglers. No way I’m letting them get all the grub before we stuffed ourselves silly, right?”
Foster gave me a grateful look, and Spyros took my gift for the present table… Because apparently there was a table of them. I caught Bronx’s eye as Foster and I moved up to the crepe bar, and I could tell we were thinking the same thing—we’d found home. A crest that was this big but yet took the time to celebrate one member, going all out especially when they were having such a rough day, was rare.
And then I got a look that clearly told me not to screw it up for all of us.
“Okay, so I’m playing bartender for the birthday boy so no one is mixing on him when he’s not had much alcohol before, and I’m keeping them light,” Arlo explained as he sat down with us. He set a pink drink in front of Foster and smiled. “You won’t hurt my feelings, so just tell me if you like and what part.” Foster slowly took it and sniffed it, glancing at me.
“He won’t roofie it. Arlo just means tell him you like the sweet ones or when there’s a certain fruit juice taste, that sort of thing. You can trust him.”
Foster nodded, smiling as he took a sip. “Oh, oh this is good. Cherry sweetness from the gods. Nummy!”
“Wow, you’re easy,” Arlo chuckled and then cleared his throat, not meaning to imply what it sort of sounded like.
“Open presents as you eat,” Gwen instructed, handing over a large gift bag. “Start with mine. I was too excited.”
Foster stuffed a few bites of his crepes covered in cherries and chocolate sauce before wiping his hands and setting the bag next to him on the empty chair in between us. Not that I hadn’t wanted to sit right on top of him—or him on my lap—but I’d thought it best to give him space for just this sort of thing. Foster peeked inside and then gave Gwen a funny look.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s got ears,” Foster muttered as he pulled it out of the bag. I almost swallowed my tongue when I realized it was one of those hooded jumpers fashioned after anime cat characters or whatever the trend was. It was a one-piece with super short shorts and not only ears but a tail sewn on. Orange with tiger stripes. And honestly, the orange matched my eyes.
“There’s feet sock slippers too that are paws,” Gwen added, totally excited. “You love it, right?”
“Yeah, this is a great Halloween costume,” Foster praised, smiling widely, but I saw the confusion in his eyes.
“It’s not for Halloween. It’s pajamas.” Gwen’s face turned into a pout as if he’d missed his mark, and Foster glanced at Spyros as if asking for help.
“Everyone was asking me what you liked because they wanted to do more than gift cards and really have a blow out for your twenty-first, and I let it slip that you loved cute stuff. So, um—well, I have a feeling maybe it got passed around that meant cutesy stuff for you.”
“It doesn’t? What’s the difference?” Gwen demanded, fully pouting in a way that was amusing for a large man to pull off. “I designed that just for you after getting your measurements.”
“And it’s really cool, Gwen. I like it. I guess, I don’t know, I didn’t think it was something a twenty-one year old would wear not as a costume.” He kept rambling when he saw how his words upset Gwen. “But my family’s really strict, and I wouldn’t have been allowed to wear this as a kid. We didn’t even celebrate Halloween, so I trust you. Please advise me.” Gwen seemed to get a bit better, and I almost laughed when Foster picked up his fruity drink and slammed it down. “Okay, show me how to be a kitty!”
“Really?” Gwen gasped, his eyes shining. What happened to the gruff and scary guy who’d dragged me out of Foster’s room the other night?
“Gwen’s into design. He’s got sketches and patterns and all kinds of stuff to launch his own brand after we graduate if the PR company the crest is building can get some traction on his stuff,” Spyros explained. “He might be a hard ass, but he’s a softie the moment you put fabric into his hands, and he wants to see someone he pictured in what he created.”
“We all have our little quirks I guess,” I muttered, unsure of how to handle the severe personality shift. I munched on my food, wondering what I would describe as my own quirks. I wasn’t that smart, but that couldn’t be considered a quirk, more an area I lacked in.
Diego’s comment about me being a dog wanting my master back popped into my head. Yeah, that loyalty could be a quirk of mine. Even if I did bite my master with what I’d done to Foster, I would never intentionally betray him, and I knew I would die to protect him. All kinds of ideas on the subject were spinning around in my mind when I reached for my cup and glanced up as I took a drink from it…
And spit it all out.
“Rarrrrw, I’m a kitty!” Foster mewled and then let out a small hiccup.
“You need mittens or front paws,” Gwen commented as he turned Foster around. “But the measurements are right. Is it comfortable?”
“Yeah, it’s fluffy on the inside too—so soft!” He glanced down and blushed. “Longer though. It should be longer. I mean, does this even cover my ass?” He looked over his shoulder to see, turning in a circle, like a cute buzzed seductor. “Whoa, can’t do that while drinking.”
Gwen dragged him over to some decorative mirrors that were on either side of the entrance with tables and flowers for a layered effect. But he pushed them aside so Foster could see himself from head to toe. “This is cute, right? You’re happy that you look so cute. There can be some sexy with cute.”
Foster turned one way and then the other to check himself out, blushing again. Then he did a double take, his eyes going wide as he focused on Gwen. “Why are you giving me the hard sell? Are you wanting me as a model for these kinds of outfits?”
“You’re slow when you drink,” Spyros snickered, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s exactly what he’s doing.”
“In my defense, I came up with them while thinking of a present for you,” Gwen defended. “So it’s not like I’m being manipulative and self-serving. You inspired a line of sexy pajamas. I’ve been sketching up a storm, and I want to make all sorts if you’ll model them for me. You can keep one of each. Your body type is—”
“It’s not really fair to keep pushing when he’s been drinking,” I muttered, moving up to Foster and wrapping my arm around him. “It’s his birthday, and you’ve given him that look of panic over this.” That was why I intervened. Foster had started shaking in his little paw boots.
Gwen sighed and pushed his hair off his forehead. “Foster, sorry, man. I really wasn’t trying to push you or be a dick. I just get so excited. You know that, right?”
Foster nodded, and the subject was dropped… Except he glanced at me a few times with that what do you think? look, and I knew I was the wrong person to ask. Because, for one, simply seeing him in that suit made me hard as a rock. And a smart man wouldn’t want others to see the one he loved in such a sexy state.
In other words, there was no way I could be objective.
Really, really the wrong person to ask.
“Kitties bite,” I purred, nipping Pierce’s neck again as he carried my drunk ass back to my room. “Mmm, tastes like chicken.” I burst out giggling, yet Pierce didn’t say anything.
Just as he hadn’t for the past few hours.
Once we were in my room, he tossed me down on my bed and headed for the door. I was up and as fast as I could in that condition, I got in front of him, closing and locking the door.
“Foster, move.”
“Oh, he speaks! How nice to hear my date’s voice finally,” I mocked, crossing my arms over my chest… Which I realized looked ridiculous given the get up I wore, but still, he’d made me cranky.
“I-I’m your d-date?”
“You’re so stupid!” I hissed, shoving at his chest. “Yes, Pierce, you’re my date. We went there together, you said you’d look after me, I was pretty much glued to you all night, and now you’re seein
g me back to my room. All that’s missing is the good night kiss, which you’re not leaving until I get.” I let out a small hiccup, which seriously undermined the fierceness in my voice. “Now sit on the bed. It’s still my birthday, and you said I got whatever I wanted today.”
“It’s way past midnight,” Pierce muttered, doing what I wanted anyways. “You’re lucky you’re so damn sexy or else I wouldn’t put up with a hissy fit. I’m trying to keep myself in check and behave.”
The moment he sat down, I pounced on him, knocking him back to the bed and straddling his lap. “I don’t want you to behave. I want you to be obedient. It’s my turn to take advantage of you. I get what I want.”
His lips twitched, and then he shot me a full smile. “Can someone as drunk as you take advantage of another?”
“Don’t make me mad or I’ll punish you,” I threatened, shivering when I saw the spark of interest in his eyes. Instead of touching that can of worms—one I planned on investigating another time when I was sober—I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. “You were very quiet when people were talking about my outfit. I thought you liked cute stuff too. Do you not like me in cute stuff?”
“I like it too much.” That was all he admitted to though, so I kissed him again and squirmed on his lap again. He groaned and grabbed my ass, a couple of his fingers sliding under the material and touching my bare ass. “Foster, I’m really on edge here.”
“Tell me what you think of my new jammies then.”
His eyes filled with heat as he let out a growl, his fingers clenching to the point I might have a few bruises later. “I wanted to rip the leg open enough so I could get to your ass and shove my cock in your tight little body. It’s so fucking hot that I hate the idea of you modeling it so everyone in the world could see how sexy you are. I want to lock this kitty up in a cage just for me and feed him my cream all the time, ignoring the traumas you’ve been through, and not be gentle with you at all.”
