“No. Don’t apologize,” he says definitively. “I like seeing you happy.”
His tone and touch are simultaneously sobering and exciting. I’m being appreciated, not scolded, for over-the-top behavior. It’s so simple. I hadn’t realized my expectations were set so low.
“If you have questions, I will answer as many as you can ask.” He’s staring at me with such intensity that, for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. I pull my limbs tighter to my body so I can get a little closer to him.
“Are there rules? Can you go wherever you want?” I’m a lot quieter this time, and gosh, he is very cute. How do I get him to kiss me? Just ask, or what?
“We do have a few rules in the community. Going much higher than we flew is frowned on, slower speeds at loweraltitudes, avoid private airspace...” His voice trails off, but my curiosity doesn't.
“Do you do that sort of thing a lot?”
He nods. “It’s hard to find modes of transportation with enough room for my wings to fit comfortably. You can’t fit wings in airplane seats.”
I sigh. “I would fly everywhere, all of the time, if I had the option.”
“I’ll fly you anywhere you want to go.” His hands tighten slightly around my waist. It’s sweet, and kind, and way too much for me right now. This kind of foreplay makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
I’m going to get attached to him if I’m not careful. That’s such a bad idea, I know I’m not going to see him after I fuck him.
I pull away so I can peek over the edge of the building. “The only other question I have right now is how do we get down?”
Ant waves me toward an unmarked door, leading me down a set of stairs and into a dark narrow hallway above the theater.
“We can’t just sneak in!” I say in a hushed whisper.
“It’s fine.” His long warm fingers slip between mine and I let myself be pulled into the building.
I whisper to Ant. “It’s fine? What do you mean it’s fine?”
“I promise.” His grin, even with his inhuman features, feels mischievous.
We pass a theater employee, a reptilian male, pushing a mop and bucket. My heart leaps into my throat that we might be caught sneaking in, but he just nods at Ant.
“Evening, Ant,” the lizardman says, “Ma’am.” He tilts his head in my direction as well.
“Evening,” I mumble hurriedly to the reptilian. “Who are you?” I hiss at Ant as soon as we’re alone again.
“Nothing you can Google, remember?” he replies, somewhat mysteriously. And, oh no, I think that is sexy too.
We step through another door into the dark open balcony of the movie theater. I’ve always known it existed and I always wondered what was up here.
It’s an old building, converted years ago from a more traditional stage, back when they still built balconies for theaters. The ceiling is painted like a night sky, twinkle lights installed for stars. Every time I've been to an event here the balcony has been cordoned off, and now I see why.
There are rows of seating up here, but a lot of them have been removed or modified. The balcony is half full of figures. Even in the dim light, I can tell they are mostly cryptids. A pair of Bigfoots share an enormous bucket of popcorn sitting on a couch that would swallow a human-sized person. In another pair of seats, a chupacabra hangs upside down from the ceiling, while her human date occasionally tosses her M&Ms. Other odd shapes occupy the darkness, their silhouettes aren't clear enough to discern their species.
I peek over the railing at the crowd below us. An almost entirely human crowd fills all of the available seats.
“Is this…special Cryptid seating?” I ask. That would explain why I've never been up here.
Ant tugs me over to an odd-looking padded bench, when he folds himself into the chair I see that careful holes have been cut into the back to accommodate a pair of wings. “Some of us require different seating than humans do. They're available here.”
“That’s great!” I whisper as I slip onto the bench next to him. “Wait, we aren’t just going to watch without paying for tickets, are we?”
His antennae twist in opposite directions. He seems to be trying to decide something as the previews start.
“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll get us tickets.”
“Alright,” I answer tentatively, as Ant disappears toward the lobby.
