“Teddy,” he said, and something in my chest clenched at him using my nickname, but I forced it away. “I need to get it working.”
“Not today,” I repeated, holding him tighter. He melted into me and moaned, making me swallow. “You need to heal.” He opened his mouth, probably to fight me, but I continued, “One thing at a time. First, you need to sleep so you can heal.”
A smile spread over his features, and Mindy cupped my cheek, thumb running over my bottom lip. My heart stopped before speeding up.That, in my opinion, wasn’t a friendly touch. He had a boyfriend, and he shouldn’t be flirting with me. Though, was he? I didn’t have any experience. I might be reading into the innocent touch now that I was randomly attracted to him.
“You take good care of me,” he said.
“Someone has to manage this fiasco.”
“I don’t know that word.”
“Mess,” I reiterated. Mindy had made a mess of this rescue, not that he’d meant to. But we needed to be smart if we were going to survive this in one piece.
“I did make a mess, but you are here and you fit.”
I blinked. I fit, where? I had no idea what he was talking about, so I said, “I suppose.”
Mindy gave me a beaming smile, squeezing me close. “I knew you knew it. You fit.”
Well, he was happy, but I had no idea what the fuck he was happy about.
Bartholomew helped me lie down, and as I was catching my breath, he slipped out of the chilly tent. I reached for him, but he either ignored or didn’t notice my grasping hand. I preferred when he stayed beside me. He fit, and he’d acknowledged it as well. We were on our way to being fantastic friends. Maybe even the closest ones ever.
Though thinking of Bartholomew as a friend bothered me for some reason.
My thoughts went back to the moments in the cargo bay. Bartholomew had been amazing to hold. The feel of his arms made me groan. And his scent? It was intoxicating, musky and strong with an earthen undertone that I wanted to roll in. He probably needed a bath, as I did, but, by the stars, I could not get enough of him.
At the thought of a bath, I fluffed the front of my shirt. I wanted to fill the entire crate with warm water for him to wash. My breath harshened at the thought of him scrubbing his skin while I watched. My cock twitched, starting to firm up.
That wasn’t a friend response. I clearly needed to suppress my desire for physical company. I didn’t want my Bartholomew to become uncomfortable with me.
The tent opened, and Bartholomew returned. He sat next to me and gave me a nutrition bar plus a couple of hydration cubes. My tail curled around his leg automatically; Bartholomew didn’t even glance at me.
My tuft tickled his ankle, and he squirmed. I tightened my hold, unwilling to let him go, even though I should. We needed to have a conversation, but what if he didn’t want what I needed? Ihadto touch him. A throbbing instinct deep insideme was comforted alone by his skin against my scales. But he was allowed to refuse me. I took a deep breath, strengthening my resolve. I would respect his boundaries, as impossible as that would be.
“I want to discuss permissions,” I said.
“What?” he asked, popping a hydration cube in his mouth.
“Permissions.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Drakcol discuss what touch is or is not allowed. It’s for everyone. Friends, family, lovers.”
He scooted closer to me, knees bumping my side, and hope flared in my soul. Perhaps he didn’t mind the thought of touching me. I needed to feel his skin against my scales to reassure myself he was here and safe. Maybe he required the same from me?
“You’ve touched me plenty without permission.”
“A mistake on my part,” I confessed, wincing. I had taken without permission, and that was horribly wrong. “I must say sorry.”
Bartholomew shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“Can I touch you?”
“How do you mean? Like…” His cheeks flushed.
It took me a moment to parse through his words. “Ah. I didn’t mean fucking.” Some friends fucked—I had several—but I didn’t think he wanted to be fuck-friends.
