Not Afraid Anymore
Celebrating my 600th story. Thank you, everyone!
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This is my 600th story posted on SoFurry. I can't really believe that I've got this far, but here we are. I hope this little atmospheric piece will sate you for the time being - a more substantial celebrative story shall follow in the future, but for now, this one comes from the heart.
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Thank you.
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Someone once told me that I should go for it when the desire outweighted the fear, and I have always though that is a pretty good piece of advice. When there are so many hurtles, so many consequences and so many complications that can happen, it's good to not to jump into such a thing.
The dance had been a long one, drawing in circles until they had finally met, with a gentle bump, perhaps, but once we stopped shaking, it was a gentle, kind resonance that made us smile with a gentle knowledge.
Put your arm there!
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We were on the couch and I did it.
I put my arm there, so that when he leans back, his back rests softly on it, a pressure that is barely felt, but I know that he is warm, even though his sweater.
I can't stop smiling.
"See something you like?"
He smiles tiredly. but happy, eyes glimmering with intelligence, kindness and a kind of a tired warmth. I know it's already late, but I don't want this moment to end.
I want for us to bump again, so that I won't stop shaking.
I watch his fingers on the pages of the book, studied with such intent. Words are formed with his soft lips, and the smile widens.
"I can't believe some of this stuff."
"I know," I say.
He yawns again.
"Tired?" I ask.
"Yeah."
We put the book away. It has broken the ice, and we spend a little time there before we return to the couch. The TV is open, and we ostensibly watch it for a while, and I put my arm back over the backrest of the couch. I turn to him and smile to him, a big feline smile.
"I already did it once."
He smiles and leans back a little, and it feels warm.
"Wanna lie down a bit?"
"Sure, why not," he says, and I smile again, "I might fall asleep, though."
"I don't mind."
The couch is a sleeper, and old wooden thing you can pull open. The extra room comes in handy, even though we don't take space on the couch.
I shift myself closer, a knee pressing onto a knee, or a thigh, perhaps, and his head is resting on a pillow, his ears relaxed, his breathing slow and deep.
He smells so good. I want to press my nose to his neck and just see what happens.
I can smell him from where I stay, behind him, protective, in awe by the fact that he's really the, and he lets me to be there.
I can't help it.
I stroke his back with the softest touch I know, trying my hardest not to make it ticklish. It's not meant to be teasing, It's meant to be fantastic. It's meant to be my show, to reach out and tell him without words that he's welcome.
"That feels really nice..."
I don't stop, I just keep it up, as soft as ever, with the most gentle of pressure.
It's so easy to curl my tail over his ankles and just breathe with him, his side rising every now and then. I even try to match it, to see what happens, and it makes me smile even more, to even think about it.
Maybe it's the late hour, or the scent, or the sudden urgency that I feel, when I'm holding him, still stroking him, that makes me speak in a soft, almost hoarse voice.
"Perhaps...perhaps ...we should up this a notch."
"Hmm?"
He sounds appropriately puzzled, and I chuckle a bit.
"I want to kiss you," I blurt out.
He looks at me, over his shoulder, and I meet his gaze. Butterflies are everywhere, but I meet his gaze. Still stroking, softly, on that place he likes.
"Hmm?"
"Yeah," I smile.
I give him room to roll onto his back, and he's there alright, lounging on the couch, head on a pillow, and looking at me. I lean over him on a single arm, I don't want to crush him, because that'd probably kill the mood that has been so slowly built over during the night...and I keep on smiling, nervously.
"So..."
"So..."
We both smile. I lick my lips, nervously, looking at him, the shelves beyond.
My eyes spot something that's too good to be true, and I reach for it, my chest brushing on his hair.
"How about a little mood lighting?" I ask, presenting the candle.
He stares at the white object and his eyes glint with disbelief.
"Is that...?"
"Yeah," I say as I demonstrate the item by tilting it to one side to reveal its bottom, the plastic surface, upon which I click a switch and a small, warm, yellow light appears, casting a mellow glow.
"I can't believe how kitch that is," he says, with smile in his voice.
"Kitch?" I pout.
"Yeah."
"Maybe it's appropriate," I chuckle as I put the outrageous LED candle down to the bookshelf. "Somehow..."
We stare at each other again, and seconds pass.
I smile, and take off my glasses from my muzzle, folding them down to the side.
I'm right there. He's there too. He looks expectant.
"So..."
"So..."
I take a deep breath. We've played this game long enough.
I smile, and I keep my eyes open, because I'm not afraid anymore. I can't remember when I stopped being afraid, but I know that on the moment when our lips brush tentatively and we kiss, we kiss so slowly, and with a little *smeck* of a sound, that is repeated, soon, when he lifts his head and meets the kiss, one of many.
We linger there for a moment, our kisses traded until I simply rest myself down and bury my face against his shoulder and neck.
"I've got a huge boner right now," I chuckle.
He gives me a look. I smile and keep close to him, the ice melted, the warmth finally flowing freely. I rest to his side and we look at each other, with meaning.
He's beautiful.
He's simply beautiful.
And we're still smiling and laughing, and teasing.
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Thank you for reading.
_ Gruff _