It turned out to be surprisingly easy to settle back into our regular sleeping schedules, even after the time we had to spend off of it. I guess it’s mostly a matter of will and habit. I’m back to flopping down bonelessly in bed in the middle of the night or so and waking up in the early afternoon. Quentin went right back to getting up with the sunset and going to sleep whenever he feels tired, his hours are usually steady though.
I’ve given it a lot of thought and I still am, about how every little thing he does pull at these strings that capture my heart a little more each time and while I’m more than aware I’ve never really felt this before with anyone else, I can’t help but be pretty certain that I am in love with him.
Every time I get up in the morning I tell myself this is going to be the day. But it isn’t. When he gets up in turn a few hours after me, all sleepy-eyed and tousled hair, I just can’t. My body is trying to take over currently, when I see him like that, I feel my hormones try to have a swing at me and I feel things stirring but I think about how it might anger him and it might just land me back out in the streets and it’s like the biggest cold bath ever. It does what it should.
I don’t want him thinking I want him in my life just because of his body, though part of me does want that but that’s just part and it doesn’t rule much of me. There’s just so much to him. How he thinks, how he acts, what he says… how he looks. As is, I’m not even sure he’d understand what it would mean, to want him for his body. I could be wrong but I have been around him for a few months at this point and I’ve yet to really glimpse anything out of him that could be of sexual nature.
I mean… I’ve seen him first thing in the morning when he wakes up, I’ve heard him head to his shower to watch him, watched him do it—head to his shower, not watch him shower!—and I’ve yet to really sense anything sexual about him. Like he could sense me through my tags, I guess we have that kind of connection. I mean, I could be wrong about it and he could be taking care of whatever business he has to in the shower or even in his room, but if he does, he’s absolutely quiet about it. Silent really.
At times I have dreams where he’ll be waking up before me or he’ll just join me in my bed and start touching me, exploring me in ways I can only imagine he would and waking up from those leave the body rather aware of what could be. Thoughts of homelessness don’t fix the ‘issue’ when I wake up from these and a shower is usually necessary.
Recently, the thought settled on my mind that I could head off to that little adult shop not far from town center, it’s just out of the way, and buy something for myself. I wouldn’t dare buy it online, we tend to open together everything that gets shipped to our home, just in case it either came from the folks he grew up around (which hasn’t happened yet) or another order we can’t explain (like that dress).
I know it would likely not do me much good but it might offer some relief. Maybe I’m just too pent up about these things and that’s why I feel the way I feel. If it does help, then it’ll be all the better, I’ll have known that a big part of what I’m feeling for him might just be lust, in the long run. I’ll give it a thought.
Right now, he’s still sleeping and I know I’ve been bad about it, sneaking glances at him. The house is kept just warm enough and he tends to kick his blankets off when he’s comfortable. What doesn’t help is that he sleeps absolutely naked. But it’s so much eye-candy, all the sketching I’ve been doing of him… a lot of it is what I’d call safe for everyone, he’s clothed, doing random, daily things. Some of them I’d call safe for our kind, I can’t help but add in a tail to him, it just feels right. I’m not honestly sure why but it just does. The rest… well the rest I can’t share with anyone else because he’s hardly wearing anything and while most of those are tame in what he’s doing or how he’s posed, some of them I’m sure would get me punted back outside. Some of them I’ve drawn myself in with him.
He’s sprawled, settled on his back. Golden hair framed around his face, he could be an angel if it weren’t for his temper around most other folks. His skin is just so, I’ve yet to see any scars on him but I haven’t exactly had the chance to look at him from up close and personal, I’m not sure he’d let me either so that’s fine. From what I’ve seen though, he looks fine and that’s in a roundabout way.
I need to stop staring, I swear if he wasn’t as innocent as I know he is deep down inside I’d claim he’s doing all this on purpose to get a rise out of me. I want him in a bad way but I can’t do that. At least not yet. Not today, not any time soon.
I walk away from his bedroom door as quietly as I can, slipping to my own room and flopping onto my bed. My mock-dilemma right now is whether I shower to deal with this issue, or I just snag my sketchbook to draw another scene, hopefully a little less steamy than the last one I did draw of us together in this very bed. Or maybe, that might not be a bad idea, I can get dressed and head out, head to that shop. They still should be opened at this hour.
That’s my best option at this point, a walk will clear my mind and then, well I might just see about a shower and a discovery of whatever I’ll buy at that shop. It’s warm out, I wish it was just a little cooler so the half-chill could help me think clearer but the sun on my face might just do the same. I can’t complain about my life just now, but I can complain, to myself, about my hormones and my string-wrapped heart though I don’t mind the other at this point, it’s a new feeling that I want to discover more of.
My hormones though, I swear if I don’t do something about it, I’ll end up banging my head to a wall or something so I can start thinking about things with the proper brain.