Normal Is a Made-Up Word #3
“No one is normal. It’s a made-up word, because all words are made up. Maybe you’re different, but different isn’t bad. You’re unique and special. Don’t let anybody tell you what you’re worth.”
Cupping the side of his face, where his fur was fine and soft, they said, “You’re worth the world, Dex Triever.”
He beamed at them like they were the sunrise. “Well, maybe let some people tell you what you’re worth, as long as they say shit like that.”
A smile struggled to form on their face as Dex cleaned the tracks of tears from their cheeks with the heel of his hand.
“For the record, I don’t care how you look under your clothes, or how your genetics made you different. Sex is more than shoving a dick in a hole; there’s, like, so many other things we could do. If you wanted to do things,” he corrected quickly. “Enthusiastic consent, and stuff.”
“You still want to do things with me?”
“Baby, I’d do all the things with you.” He waggled his brows, and they snorted. “Maybe not now, since you’re sad and snotty, but…”
They smacked his chest half-heartedly. “I’m never snotty.”
“Sure, highness,” he said, voice dripping in amusement. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Another short forever passed as he ran a hand down their side and over their tail, playing with the shifting, iridescent scales. They reclined against his chest and shoulder, tracing his profile, then his jaw, then his lips. He faced them, angling his head until he could nuzzle their cheek.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said, and his voice had gone deep and growly. “I like you in my clothes.”
They smiled as he nosed at their dimple. “I probably should have asked first, but my clothes were messy.”
The hand at their hip flexing. “From me? Or from you?”
Grateful he was too busy snuffling in their ear to see their horrible blush, they said, “Both.”
“Oh fuck,” he breathed, and they felt him stir under their backside.
“I do, you know,” they said as he ghosted kisses over their jaw.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Want you to kiss me,” they said, rubbing the base of his ear.
With a groan, he dragged his lips across their cheek, mumbling in what had to be Lupali. He hovered over their mouth, breath hot and moist, and their lips tingled, even though he hadn’t even kissed them yet.
“Cya,” he breathed their name.
They cupped his face in their hands. “Dex.”
A loaded breath, then they both moved at the same time, closing the minuscule distance between them. Dex’s lips were softer than Cya expected, pillowy and full. He kissed them gently, sweetly, cradling the back of their head in one hand while his other flattened to the small of their back.
They sighed into the kiss and sifted their fingers through the short fur of his cheeks and neck. Circling their arms around his shoulders, they pressed closer as they kissed him, firm and sure. He hummed his approval, meeting them confidently, and they melted.
When they parted their lips, Dex licked inside with a groan. He tasted like spices from dinner and the sweet fizz of soda, and something all his own, earthy and wild. Cya moaned into his mouth as they rubbed their chest against his, nipple piercings catching and tugging with delicious friction.
He hardened underneath them but seemed content to ignore it, so Cya did too.
Part of them wanted to grind down on him, maybe slip a hand between their bodies and feel his weight in their palm, but the other part—the emotionally wrung-out, exhausted part—wanted to simply enjoy the sweet affection.
There’d be time for more, for Cya to experience sex and pleasure and intimacies never before shared, but for tonight, this was enough.
When they parted, Dex dotted little kisses over their cheeks and chin and eyelids. He rubbed his face over theirs and down their neck. Scent-marking, they realized as they exposed their throat for him. He was covering them in his scent, and they smiled.
“You still taste like me,” he rumbled in their ear, and they flushed in residual embarrassment. “A bit stale, though.”
Their tail rattled, making him snicker, and they pinched his ear in reprimand. “Well, a gentleman would have offered me mouthwash.”
Snorting a laugh, he lifted his head and smiled grandly down at them. “You want some mouthwash, highness?”
They nodded. “Better late than never.”
He kissed them again, messier, filthier, then he pulled away. “You’re sleeping here, right?”
“As long as your mother won’t be cross.”
“She won’t care.” He pecked their brow, then helped them scooch off the bed. “Alright, your majesty, let me get you that mouthwash.”
Once they were both standing, he shot them a shit-eating grin. “I should buy a travel-size to carry in my pocket. You know, for emergencies.”
He yelped and sprinted out of the bedroom as they tried to smack him with their tail. Since he was out of range, they snatched his pillow from the bed and chucked it at his back. Giggling like a little kid, he ran to the bathroom and locked himself inside.
“You incorrigible oaf!” they shouted after him.
“Yeah? Well, you choked on this oaf’s dick and liked it!” he yelled back.
“I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”
Dex cackled. “We’ll see, highness. We’ll see.”