Chapter 11 Catfish
CATFISH
Iawake with a jolt.
Morning comes online in my brain at breakneck speed, and every sensory input tells me I’m wrapped tightly around Wren.
A wave of panic rises through me. Not because sleeping like this with them is wrong, not because anything happened.
But because it…mattered.
Even with the sheets between us, me on top, them beneath, I can feel the warmth of their body. Their long hair and the sweet scent of the skin behind their ear tickles my nose. My arm is draped heavily over their waist, my palm flat against the blanket-covered softness of their stomach.
Spooned around them like I couldn’t get close enough in sleep, I feel their familiar shape. And my body responds to it. A slow, warm stirring in my gut. Not so much a jolt of lust.
But something quiet and tender.
Wren felt safe enough to sleep with me after I’d crept back in around two in the morning.
I hadn’t kissed them, nor had I slid my palm beneath that hoodie to reveal more of their skin because they were asleep when I arrived. Only stirring as I climbed onto the bed in my jeans.
But I felt every moment just the same.
And, yeah, I wanted them. Not in the usual rowdy, get-laid-and-bounce kind of way. This was different. Quiet and dangerous.
It’s the kind of want that creeps under a man’s skin and stays there.
Soft light eases through the half-closed curtains. It’s the kind of wintery morning that lays a gray haze over everything. It casts enough light that I can make out the way Wren’s hands are together as if in prayer, tucked just beneath their cheek.
Sleeping with someone in my bed isn’t new. I’ve held curves like this before. My brain knows the shape and recognizes it.
But this is Wren.
And I love it.
Even if my brain struggles to untangle how this all works for me. Even if my hands and senses have been trained by old stories, old straightness, old lovers, and old instincts.
I don’t want Wren to have to re-write themself for me.
It’s not fair to them.
So, if I really want to take this further, I need to relearn myself.
Unpack things I thought I knew.
And ask myself the hard questions about why I’m here, in this bed, with this brave and tender person.
If I’m going to meet Wren where they are, I need to be as confident in myself and my choices as Wren is.
As if knowing I’m thinking about them, they turn in my arms before snuggling in against me. Wren’s a dichotomy. Leaping in front of Grudge to protect me one minute and curling into me the next.
Unable to resist, I kiss their forehead.
Wren’s eyes flicker open, still heavy with sleep.
“Morning,” I whisper, my voice low.
They don’t answer right away, but their body tenses. It’s subtle, but enough for me to feel it.
Shit.
I’ve been processing my own feelings and came up with one plus one equals two.
The two of us starting something, trying something.
Maybe Wren’s done the same math but come up with a different answer.
I pull back a little.
“Still good?” I ask cautiously.
Wren wraps their arm around my back and holds me tight, and I can’t stop the way the corners of my mouth twitch in a smile.
“Yeah. Just…give me a second.”
Firmly, I tug Wren in close and let my lids drop for a little while as we breathe the same air.
Finally, Wren shifts onto their back, and I push myself up to take the weight on my arm as I rest my head on my fist. Their thick black hair is messy, their eyes puffy with sleep, and they blush adorably.
“You’re staring.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Not sorry about that. You’re worth staring at.”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of their mouth, but it’s followed by a slight frown. “Do you know who you’re staring at?”
There’s weight to the question. I can only imagine what Wren’s dating life has been like. The conversations they’ve had with themself before they’ve accepted invitations to go on dates or debating their safety in sharing who they are with someone else.
I put my hand on their cheek. “Yeah. I know who I see. And I’m just a guy trying to figure out if I’m capable of being the man who deserves you, exactly as you are. How I need to change.”
My words are met with silence.
Maybe I just completely stuffed that up. Said too much. Wasn’t committed enough.
Then, Wren blows out a breath. “That’s the first time someone’s said it like that.”
I huff. “Like what? Clunky as hell?”
“No. Like I’m fine and you’re the contradiction.”
“You are fine.”
Wren grins. “I know I am. But I like that you’re willing to shift your worldview for me.” They point beyond the door. “Not sure everyone out there is.”
“I can’t control what everyone out there does. But I do know that I became a biker because I saw I could build my own set of rules for my life. And that hasn’t changed.”
Wren suddenly climbs over me, then drags my hand to get me to follow. “Come with me.”
“Why? What are we doing?”
“I want to kiss you. And I want you to kiss me. But I’m not doing that until we’ve brushed our teeth.”
“Like I care,” I say, but I let them tug me into the bathroom. “Here. I got a spare toothbrush somewhere.” I pull open the cupboard under the sink, then the first drawer of the vanity. I find it in the second drawer. “Use this.”
Standing side by side, in front of the mirror, I assess us as we brush.
We’re a study in contrasts. Without their boots, Wren stands about five and a half feet tall.
I’m six foot three. They have long black hair, and I have short blond curls.
I’m shirtless; they’re swamped in my hoodie.
Their piercings catch the light, and I don’t have a single hole in my body except the ones I came out of my momma with.
Wren leans over the sink first to rinse and spit. I follow. And then, with a grin, they lead me to the bed.
Wren pushes me onto my back, and I let them. “Can I kiss you now?”
I grip a handful of their hair and tug them to me. “With pleasure.”
This time, when our lips meet, there’s nothing soft and gentle about it.
In fact, it’s powerful. Our mouths collide rather than touch.
Wren fights the sheets, trying to tug them out of the way so they can climb over me, and I’m utterly down with that plan.
Something rips.
I don’t give a fuck what it is.
Because the sooner our bodies are aligned, the better.
I slide my hand beneath the hoodie Wren wears.
My hoodie.
And their skin is soft and smooth, their muscles strong. I run my hands over their ass, cupping their cheeks and lowering them over my cock, which has been hardening since Wren told me they wanted to kiss me.
“Wren,” I murmur.
They don’t answer. Instead, they settle into a deeper grind. I feel the heat of them through my denim. My hands shift to their hips, gripping them hard, and I freeze.
“This okay?” I whisper.
“More than,” Wren murmurs against my lips.
They rock against me, our hips on the same rhythm. The fabric between us does little to soften the pressure. For a moment, I consider rolling us, taking the lead, but then I realize, none of that matters.
Because this feels good. So fucking hot I want to—
“You do something to me,” Wren says. They’re flushed, mouth parted.
I shift my hands to cup their face, drawing their lips back to mine.
They grind harder, and I lose it…just a little. My hips jerk up to meet theirs. The drag of fabric, the friction of it, the ache that starts deep in my balls—it all spirals tight and fast.
“Shit,” I breathe.
“Is it okay? To make you come like this?” Wren asks.
“I might fucking die if you don’t.”
Wren gasps as everything boils down to this messy, clothed, and hot moment. I grip the back of their neck, pinning our lips together again. Everything in me is wound tight, trying to stay in control, but it’s slipping.
“I’m gonna—”
“Me too,” Wren whispers, their head falling to my shoulder.
They rock once, twice more, then freeze, a broken sound escaping their lips. The second I feel them come, I grab their hips and rub their slick heat over me until I join them, groaning, thighs shaking.
Haven’t come in my jeans in a decade, but it’s the most meaningful sexual encounter I’ve had in the same duration.
We stay like that, clinging to each other, breathing each other in.
I lie, sweat-soaked and stunned. Like the pieces of me haven’t been put back together yet.
Then—
The hammering on the door is so loud, it shakes the frame.
Wren jumps in my arms, but I simply hold them even tighter.
“Catfish. If you’re in there, you need to get your ass into the fucking kitchen now.” Atom’s voice reverberates around the room.
I’ll deal with whatever follows, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that his tone made my gut tighten a little.
“On my way,” I shout as Wren’s forehead hits my chest.
When I’m certain he’s gone, I thread my hands through Wren’s hair. I like tugging on it to get their attention, to get them to look at me.
“Terrible timing,” Wren says.
“Could’ve been worse. Let me go deal with this, and then I’ll be right back to pick it up.”
“Or rethink our life choices.”
Their words make me laugh, in spite of the moment. Carefully, I unravel us and kiss them one more time. “I look forward to getting to know you a whole heap better.”
Wren glances down at the wet stain on my jeans. “Me too.”
“You’re gonna be all kinds of trouble.”
Wren pushes the sheets off them, and I get an unhelpful look at their shapely legs with muscular calves.
I pull off my jeans and boxer briefs, using them to quickly clean up. There’s no point in being bashful after what we just did. I dip into the bathroom and splash some water on me before drying off with a towel. I swipe on some deodorant then step back into the bedroom to throw on some clothes.
“You have a beautiful body, River,” Wren says, sitting on the edge of the bed.
I like the soft way they say my name. “So do you.”
“You can barely see it,” they say.
I cup their cheeks and kiss them. “I don’t need to see it to know.”