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Hey, hey, you can laugh, but d'ya know how hard it is to aim somethin' so big?
Somewhere in my alcohol-soaked, laughter-rattled mind, his reasoning made some kind of sense, if I really thought about it. I mean, I was shocked myself that something like that could just...I dunno…lay curled up and dormant in the bowels of a dude like that. But I wasn’t thinking too hard about it, so I just rolled my eyes at what appeared to be a half-ass excuse. “Oh sure, I guess’ you jus’ slipped ‘n fell or somethin’ on my way directly to my ass.” My stomach was beginning to hurt from laughing so hard.
It was soon clear that he wasn’t gonna get up; he was flopped down already but he tumbled over and was out the moment his side hit the ground. And honestly? He had a point. All that yappin’ and yellin’ and excitement probably sobered me up just a little, but definitely left me exhausted. Trauma can do that to you.
What’s more, I was still soaking wet, and the chill of it was starting to creep through my fur. Even after shaking myself vigorously to get the heavy sheets of water off my side didn’t do anything to dispel the cold. And I couldn’t help but remember how warm Volterra had been on top of me, how his skin seemed to sizzle with whatever manblood he had flowing in his veins…
“Scootch,” I said to him, but he was already long-gone and probably wouldn’t even notice the way I fell beside him on impulse, laying next to him in a way where my back and shoulder was pressed right against his steaming flesh. He was like gigantic space-heater, where his warmth pulsed from him in waves, covering me like a blanket--and I was out like a light before I knew it was happening, soothed by the ease of the cold against my skin.
Chico watched for a while, then stumbled off somewhere still chuckling to look for something to eat when it was clear we were gonna be done for a few hours at the least. He walked with this kind of jaunty saunter, but I wasn’t conscious to feel the steady glow of triumph that warmed his thoughts.
Aaaaaaw yiss.
"talk"
END <3
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