6. Product Disclosure #2
He’d cuddled with Honey hundreds of times. Fallen asleep tangled together during movie nights, held hands during meditation, let her play with his hair while they talked. It had been nice. Comfortable. Safe.
It never felt like this.
“Riot,” Cass whispered as a weird ache built low in his belly. “What are you doing?
The gold in Riot’s eyes flickered, and then he released Cass so suddenly that Cass nearly fell backward onto the mattress.
“Shit.” Riot was moving back across the room, his back to Cass, his hands pressing flat against the wall like he needed something solid to anchor him. “Shit. I shouldn’t have—you’re not—I can’t—”
Cass touched his scalp where Riot’s fingers had been. The skin still tingled, phantom electricity dancing along his nerve endings.
“Why did that feel like that?” he asked, his voice small and confused. “That should have hurt. You were pulling my hair. That’s supposed to hurt.”
Riot made a sound like he was dying. “Princess, please stop talking.”
“But I don’t understand. When Honey touches my hair, it’s nice, but it doesn’t feel like—” He gestured vaguely at his own body, which was still humming with whatever Riot had woken up. “Like this. Why is it different when you do it?”
“Because—” Riot turned, and the look on his face was almost pained. “Because you’re going into heat and I’m a Berserker and it’s exactly why I should leave.”
“Please don’t leave.” The words came out before Cass could stop them. “Everything is scary right now. You’re the only thing that isn’t scary.”
Riot stood frozen, every muscle locked tight.
“I can take the floor,” he said finally, his voice rough.
“That doesn’t seem very comfortable.”
“I’ve slept in worse places.”
Cass hugged his knees to his chest, trying to process everything that just happened.
His body still felt wrong—too hot, too sensitive, too aware—but the worst of the overwhelming panic had subsided.
Maybe because Riot was here. Maybe because for the first time in months, someone was staying instead of telling him to go away.
“You should try to sleep,” Riot said.
Cass nodded, crawling under the thin blanket and curling onto his side.
The sheets still felt too rough against his oversensitive skin, but he was so exhausted that it didn’t matter as much.
He watched Riot settle into the single chair by the window—too small for his frame, positioned so he could see both the door and the bed.
Cass closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
It didn’t work.
Every time he started to drift off, another wave of heat would pull him back.
His body couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position.
The blanket was too heavy, then not heavy enough.
His hair tickled the back of his neck, and his legs felt restless, like they needed to move.
And through it all, he was aware of Riot’s presence.
The steady sound of his breathing. The faint trace of strawberries and cream that made everything more bearable.
After an hour of restless tossing, Cass gave up.
“Riot?” His voice came out small and miserable.
“Yeah, princess?”
“I don’t feel good.”
There was a pause. “I know.”
Cass curled tighter under the blanket, shivering despite the heat burning under his skin. “When I feel bad, Honey holds me. It helps.”
The chair creaked, like Riot was shifting in it.
“Could you...” Cass trailed off, feeling stupid for asking. But everything hurt and nothing made sense and he was so tired. “Could you help hold me together? Just for a little while?”
“Cass.” Riot’s voice came out strained. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Please?” Cass pushed himself up, looking at Riot with eyes that felt too wet. “I know Berserkers probably don’t do things like that, but I feel like I’m falling apart, and you’re the only person here, and—” His voice cracked. “Please?”
Riot’s hands were gripping the armrests, his knuckles white.
“You don’t have to if it’s weird for you,” Cass added quietly, staring at the thread on his pillowcase.
If Riot was disgusted by the request, he didn’t want to see, so counting threads was easier.
“I just thought... Honey always says I give good cuddles even if I am too bony. Maybe it would be nice for you too? You seem like someone who doesn’t get a lot of nice things. ”
The grip on the armrests loosened. Riot’s whole body sagged, like he was deflating on the inside. “Christ, princess.”
“Is that a no?”
Riot moved like he was walking to his own execution and stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at Cass with an expression that looked almost frightened.
“This is a terrible idea,” he said roughly.
Cass scooted over to make room, patting the mattress. “Just lie down. I’ll show you.”
Riot made a sound in his throat, halfway between a sigh and a squeak, sort of like a dying horn, but he sat. The bed dipped under his weight, and suddenly he was right there, still sitting. Still rigid.
“Lie down,” Cass repeated, tugging at Riot’s sleeve. I guess they didn’t do this when he was in Gensyn territory. They must not believe in the healing power of touch there. “You can’t cuddle sitting up. That’s not how it works.”
Riot lay down like his body was moving against his will, stretched out on his back, and stiff as a board. Cass immediately curled into his side, resting his head on Riot’s chest and draping an arm across his stomach like he used to do with Honey.
But the effect was immediate and overwhelming.
Heat flooded through Cass—not the feverish, uncomfortable heat he’d been fighting all day, but different.
Warm in a way that made his mouth feel dry and he pressed his thighs together, shifting against the Berserker as he felt himself twitch again.
Riot’s body was so solid against him, and his scent was everywhere, and Cass could hear his heartbeat pounding much faster than seemed normal.
This feels very different from cuddling Honey.
I won’t tell him. It might make him feel bad.
Riot was trembling. Actually trembling, fine vibrations running through his entire body that made Cass press closer to him.
Riot made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob.
“Cass.” Riot’s voice was barely recognizable. “You need to stop moving.”
“Sorry.” Cass stilled, keeping his hand flat on Riot’s chest. He could still feel the heart hammering underneath, fast and hard.
“You’re—” Riot took a sharp breath. “You’re fine. Just. Stay still and sleep.”
Cass stayed still. Riot’s body was still rigid beneath him, still trembling, but slowly—so slowly—some of the tension started to ease.
He yawned, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was.
The warmth of Riot’s body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the comforting smell of strawberries—it was all making him drowsy.
“Thank you,” Cass mumbled, his eyes drifting shut. “For staying. For this.”
Riot said nothing, but Cass felt a hand come up to rest hesitantly on his back—gentle, so gentle, like Cass was made of glass.
“Riot?” Cass asked through a yawn.
“Yeah, princess?”
“Why do you smell like dessert instead of cordite?”
The chest beneath his cheek stopped moving for a moment. Then Riot exhaled slowly.
“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice rough. “Maybe I’m broken. Or maybe because you make me feel like something other than a weapon.”
That made Cass sad. He wanted to argue, to tell Riot that smelling nice wasn’t broken, but he was so tired and the warmth was pulling him under.