Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Printable Version
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Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-31-2015
Nadine did not take bubble baths very often. This was the first time in years she'd been in a house nice enough to make her even consider it. She knew that bubbles did not actually come with the tub – there weren't hot, cold, and bubble settings. Even though there should have been. What she hadn't been able to remember was if a special, bubble-dedicated product was actually necessary. Was it possible to just dump a bunch of soap in the tub, and get bubbles that way? Was special bubble liquid actually a thing, or was it just repackaged dish soap sold at a premium?
These questions were moot, because Grayson actually had special bubble stuff, regardless of whether it was secretly just dish soap. It was very cute, anyway, how smug he was trying not to look. Less cute was his tone, which had her cocking her head to the side reflexively. Was he embarrassed about having bubbles, or irritated that she wanted them? Hm. That little frown clarified nothing.
"If you wait, I can go with," she suggested to the door. There was no response. She attempted to be quick about rinsing off, just in case, but by the time she was done he was slamming the door.
Well, what the hell.
And it wasn't like she could text him for cigarettes. Not that she would, when she didn't think the habit would suit the sweet thing she wanted him to think that she was. But if she'd gone with him, she might have been able to maneuver something...
She looked under the counter as long as she had time to kill, and there was not the cheap pink bottle of whatever that she had anticipated. There were, however, a lot of... bars. And balls. And miscellaneous other shapes. Extremely fragrant and often very pink shapes. Either someone had given him a lot of unwanted gift sets, or he had a secret lust for bathing in technicolor.
Or it was that mystery ex.
Should she take a bath? It had been sort of tempting, before, but now it had lost the appeal. No one was here to see her looking cute, and he certainly wouldn't be joining her after storming out of the house. So it seemed to her, anyway. She chewed on her thumbnail as she tried to decide what it was that she was craving, and how best to satisfy it. Absence of anyone to do it with knocked cuddles and sexy bathtime right off the list. Cozy? Cozy. She wanted to feel cozy. Get comfy in bed? No, she'd already slept all day, she didn't want to be in bed unless there were activities involved. The living room was too big to be cozy. Unless.
She left the bathroom, and put on the sweater that Grayson had almost offered her before fucking her instead. She buried her nose in the knit to smell it, and found herself almost irritated. What if he wasn't back before morning? She headed back to the guest room as she considered the possibility. It'd serve him right if she left. If twilight came and he wasn't back, she'd step outside before she changed so she could leave incognito. If he only liked hanging out with her when she was a dog, he could go to the damn shelter.
She pulled comforters and pillows off the guest bed, piling them high in her arms and dragging some behind her as she brought them downstairs. She dropped them on the floor of the living room, and started pulling and pushing the couch to where she wanted it. Then she went to the kitchen, and dragged two stools into the living room. Arranging the furniture of choice into a rectangle, she pulled the cushions off the couch to drop them on the floor with the pillows. Then she draped the sheets and the comforter over everything.
Hm. Maybe a bit smaller than she might have liked. This could use some string lights. Maybe he had a box of Christmas stuff somewhere? With her luck, he'd be touchy about that, too. Those Christmas lights belonged to his dead cat. Also he's Jewish. He just respected his cat's life choices, until it was murdered. In a bubble bath. While he was distracted masturbating. So now he associates erections with dead cats and guilt. Also she tricked him into fucking on the Sabbath. The secret, non-Saturday, no-fucking Sabbath.
Harrumph.
She went back upstairs, and retrieved the previously neglected laptop in the guest room. Hopefully it did not also belong to his dead cat. On a pile of pillows and cushions, she made herself comfortable in her fort, with only the light of the laptop creating a faint glow through the sheets. She found a YouTube playlist of new releases, and set it to play in the background while she opened another tab of other, different videos to make her laugh.
These questions were moot, because Grayson actually had special bubble stuff, regardless of whether it was secretly just dish soap. It was very cute, anyway, how smug he was trying not to look. Less cute was his tone, which had her cocking her head to the side reflexively. Was he embarrassed about having bubbles, or irritated that she wanted them? Hm. That little frown clarified nothing.
"If you wait, I can go with," she suggested to the door. There was no response. She attempted to be quick about rinsing off, just in case, but by the time she was done he was slamming the door.
Well, what the hell.
And it wasn't like she could text him for cigarettes. Not that she would, when she didn't think the habit would suit the sweet thing she wanted him to think that she was. But if she'd gone with him, she might have been able to maneuver something...
She looked under the counter as long as she had time to kill, and there was not the cheap pink bottle of whatever that she had anticipated. There were, however, a lot of... bars. And balls. And miscellaneous other shapes. Extremely fragrant and often very pink shapes. Either someone had given him a lot of unwanted gift sets, or he had a secret lust for bathing in technicolor.
Or it was that mystery ex.
Should she take a bath? It had been sort of tempting, before, but now it had lost the appeal. No one was here to see her looking cute, and he certainly wouldn't be joining her after storming out of the house. So it seemed to her, anyway. She chewed on her thumbnail as she tried to decide what it was that she was craving, and how best to satisfy it. Absence of anyone to do it with knocked cuddles and sexy bathtime right off the list. Cozy? Cozy. She wanted to feel cozy. Get comfy in bed? No, she'd already slept all day, she didn't want to be in bed unless there were activities involved. The living room was too big to be cozy. Unless.
She left the bathroom, and put on the sweater that Grayson had almost offered her before fucking her instead. She buried her nose in the knit to smell it, and found herself almost irritated. What if he wasn't back before morning? She headed back to the guest room as she considered the possibility. It'd serve him right if she left. If twilight came and he wasn't back, she'd step outside before she changed so she could leave incognito. If he only liked hanging out with her when she was a dog, he could go to the damn shelter.
She pulled comforters and pillows off the guest bed, piling them high in her arms and dragging some behind her as she brought them downstairs. She dropped them on the floor of the living room, and started pulling and pushing the couch to where she wanted it. Then she went to the kitchen, and dragged two stools into the living room. Arranging the furniture of choice into a rectangle, she pulled the cushions off the couch to drop them on the floor with the pillows. Then she draped the sheets and the comforter over everything.
Hm. Maybe a bit smaller than she might have liked. This could use some string lights. Maybe he had a box of Christmas stuff somewhere? With her luck, he'd be touchy about that, too. Those Christmas lights belonged to his dead cat. Also he's Jewish. He just respected his cat's life choices, until it was murdered. In a bubble bath. While he was distracted masturbating. So now he associates erections with dead cats and guilt. Also she tricked him into fucking on the Sabbath. The secret, non-Saturday, no-fucking Sabbath.
Harrumph.
She went back upstairs, and retrieved the previously neglected laptop in the guest room. Hopefully it did not also belong to his dead cat. On a pile of pillows and cushions, she made herself comfortable in her fort, with only the light of the laptop creating a faint glow through the sheets. She found a YouTube playlist of new releases, and set it to play in the background while she opened another tab of other, different videos to make her laugh.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 06-02-2015
Grayson mindlessly drummed his hands against the steering wheel. There was no music, so he was just filling the silence with a simple rhythm, as he glared up at a red light. Impatient as always, exacerbated by the events of the night. He tried not to think about how he had left a strange woman alone in his house. Tried and failed to not think about how he had also just had sex with her. Tried and failed not to think about the noises she had made, or how pretty she had looked riding him. The light changed and he accelerated. His phone was chiming in the passenger seat, and when he looked over he could see the smiling picture that Harding had set for herself on his phone on the one night she'd successfully convinced him to join them for drinks. He ignored her for now, because if it was important she would leave a message, and if it wasn't she would send a text.
Right on cue, he heard another short chirrup as he pulled into the gas station. He sighed preemptively because he knew whatever it was would probably irritate him, but he picked up the phone anyway to see what she had to say.
Did you take that dog to the shelter?
He had been right, instantly annoyed, even though the question had been harmless enough. If only it had been that simple. So much easier if he could have just taken a dog to a shelter. He didn't reply because just saying 'no' did not properly convey the aspects of the situation.
Beer was acquired easily enough, because Grayson refused to make conversation with the chatty, late night cashier. He was silent and straight-faced through the entire ordeal, exchanging too much money for mediocre beer in a clear display of the price of convenience. He probably should have asked Aida if she had needed anything, but he had been too busy running away from her.
Which had been rude.
God fucking damn it. Why was he such a weird fucking asshole?
Driving home consisted of more drumming and more brooding, but now with the accompaniment of clicking glass bottles.
He turned the car off and remained inside for a questionable amount of time. Just sitting in front of his house, with his head pressed against the headrest looking impressively pensive. Throwing his hands up in the air, he seemed to be dismissing whatever he had been in such deep thought about.
Gathering everything out of his car, he attempted to balance his coat, files, camera and now a case a beer with one hand and an arm to leave the other free to lock the car and unlock the front door.
His success was not easily won, but he pushed open the door with his hip and deposited most of the items on the end table by the door.
He passed the living room on his way to the kitchen, and had to stop and do a double take when he noticed the blanket fort that had been constructed across his furniture. Shaking his head he let her be for now, and continued to put the beer in the fridge.
When that was finished he returned to the living room, two beers in hand. "You got room for one more in there?" He knelt down near the entrance but didn't force his way inside the little nest that she had built. Also unaware that this was the result of his lackluster attitude previously.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 06-03-2015
Nadine paused a video of someone embarrassing themselves when she heard the car pull into the driveway, though she kept the music on. Her eyes were narrowed, listening intently with her ears perked up. He was certainly spending a long time in the car. Her hearing wasn't quite good enough, still, to be able to tell what he was doing. If he was on the phone or if he was listening to something on the radio, something to justify waiting so long.
It was possible he was just avoiding her. Considering how he'd stormed out…
She continued to listen as he came inside, and she could probably have helped when he struggled at the door. She did not. She waited in her fort, instead, posed to look busy if and when he found her. As if she was not listening carefully to his every move, even though she was. She didn't even turn down her music, and maybe it would seem plausible that she was too engrossed in Nicki Minaj to even notice that he'd come home.
Definitely wasn't waiting with the vague concern that he'd go straight back to bed without even acknowledging the tent in his living room.
So maybe she smiled, a teensy bit, when he asked if he could join her. Even though it was his house, his furniture, his blankets, his clothes. And maybe she would have been perfectly pleased to have him snuggling with her the way he had in those brief moments before he'd gotten out of bed. She had to pull the sweater tight around her hips to keep her tail down, because she was in no mood to have it giving her away. She was lounging on her side on the cushions with the laptop in front of her, and she curled her legs a bit to be sure there was room even if he just wanted to sit rather than laying next to her. She even went so far as to turn down the volume, a teensy bit, though she didn't stop the music still.
"That depends," she said, though at the same time she was raking her nails through her hair to make sure the curls fell just right. "Is that one more going to spend the whole time trying not to look at me? And getting all mad at me, for some reason? Because even if this was your dead cat's laptop, you can't storm out of a blanket fort. Even you can't slam a blanket." If she noticed that she'd stopped speaking hypothetically and started addressing him directly halfway through, she didn't acknowledge it. "Also, you have to give me your Netflix password. If you want in. And you're going to be nice."
It was possible he was just avoiding her. Considering how he'd stormed out…
She continued to listen as he came inside, and she could probably have helped when he struggled at the door. She did not. She waited in her fort, instead, posed to look busy if and when he found her. As if she was not listening carefully to his every move, even though she was. She didn't even turn down her music, and maybe it would seem plausible that she was too engrossed in Nicki Minaj to even notice that he'd come home.
Definitely wasn't waiting with the vague concern that he'd go straight back to bed without even acknowledging the tent in his living room.
So maybe she smiled, a teensy bit, when he asked if he could join her. Even though it was his house, his furniture, his blankets, his clothes. And maybe she would have been perfectly pleased to have him snuggling with her the way he had in those brief moments before he'd gotten out of bed. She had to pull the sweater tight around her hips to keep her tail down, because she was in no mood to have it giving her away. She was lounging on her side on the cushions with the laptop in front of her, and she curled her legs a bit to be sure there was room even if he just wanted to sit rather than laying next to her. She even went so far as to turn down the volume, a teensy bit, though she didn't stop the music still.
"That depends," she said, though at the same time she was raking her nails through her hair to make sure the curls fell just right. "Is that one more going to spend the whole time trying not to look at me? And getting all mad at me, for some reason? Because even if this was your dead cat's laptop, you can't storm out of a blanket fort. Even you can't slam a blanket." If she noticed that she'd stopped speaking hypothetically and started addressing him directly halfway through, she didn't acknowledge it. "Also, you have to give me your Netflix password. If you want in. And you're going to be nice."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 06-03-2015
He turned at the waist to put the beers on the coffee table before crawling inside the cubbyhole even though she had not actually given him permission. She was talking and he was getting comfortable beside her. "Well, I can't watch you and funny cat videos at the same time, so that's not exactly fair." He defended himself somewhat half-heartedly, tone was distracted as he tried to maneuver into a suitable position. "I've never had a cat. What are you even talking about?" he inquires, now laying beside her, but with a fraction of a space between them, so he felt like he wasn't all pressed up against her. He propped his head up with one hand and the other draped lazily over his stomach. He opened his mouth again, willing to explain to her about the weird draft from the hallway that makes the front door slam if you didn't hold on it to. He chose not to however, details that she wouldn't necessarily care about most likely. She continued on some strange tangent though, and it was easy enough to put two and two together.
"Oh. I didn't slam the door because I was mad at you." The hand he wasn't leaning on, moved from his stomach to toy with the hem of the sweater that she wore. "I'm not mad at you at all," he continues, quickly, not wanting his first statement to be taken the wrong way, he stopped fidgeting with the sweater to splay his fingers out across her thigh.
"I'm always nice," he lied, "but I don't have Netflix."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 06-03-2015
Nadine had barely opened her mouth when he crawled through the blankets, and she tried to remain appropriately indignant about the whole thing. "Watching things is different," she said with a pout, though at the same time she searched for and clicked an hour-long compilation of cat videos that claimed to be 'the funniest'. Whether they would be even funnier when set to the latest hits had yet to be seen. "It's the aggressive avoidance that I don't like." She sank her elbow into a cushion and propped her head on her hand.
"It's a metaphor," she said, "or a symbol, or something." She leaned a little, but didn't press herself into him despite the temptation. She didn't want to scare him off. Being a vicious and terrifying poodle. He was like a frightened baby deer. A grumpy baby deer. Something skittish enough to try and flee a poodle trying to play. "The dead cat symbolizes why you don't like it when I do stuff, and then pretend you don't care so you don't have to tell me." She sniffled, but it was ruined when a cat did a backflip off a printer and she snorted. She rubbed her nose and turned her head, clearing her throat to try and hide her amusement. She was supposed to be tragic, goddamn it.
She bit her lip as his fingers found her hem, and her tail was almost certainly trying to escape the sweater. "You seemed mad," she said. "And you didn't seem very nice, either." She paused, a tiny frown as she considered the statement. "Well, you were nice. And then you weren't. And before that you were also not nice. You're sending a lot of mixed signals, is what I'm saying, here."
Her shoulder fell back so she could look at him, not quite twisting enough to be laying on her back. "What?" Her voice was pitched high with incredulity. "Who doesn't have Netflix? Other than me. But I don't have shoes, even, so I think I get a pass. How do you watch… stuff?"
"It's a metaphor," she said, "or a symbol, or something." She leaned a little, but didn't press herself into him despite the temptation. She didn't want to scare him off. Being a vicious and terrifying poodle. He was like a frightened baby deer. A grumpy baby deer. Something skittish enough to try and flee a poodle trying to play. "The dead cat symbolizes why you don't like it when I do stuff, and then pretend you don't care so you don't have to tell me." She sniffled, but it was ruined when a cat did a backflip off a printer and she snorted. She rubbed her nose and turned her head, clearing her throat to try and hide her amusement. She was supposed to be tragic, goddamn it.
She bit her lip as his fingers found her hem, and her tail was almost certainly trying to escape the sweater. "You seemed mad," she said. "And you didn't seem very nice, either." She paused, a tiny frown as she considered the statement. "Well, you were nice. And then you weren't. And before that you were also not nice. You're sending a lot of mixed signals, is what I'm saying, here."
Her shoulder fell back so she could look at him, not quite twisting enough to be laying on her back. "What?" Her voice was pitched high with incredulity. "Who doesn't have Netflix? Other than me. But I don't have shoes, even, so I think I get a pass. How do you watch… stuff?"
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 06-03-2015
<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/hSF4kuD.png" style="avatar]Grayson looked down at her. Surprised brows had disappeared beneath the choppy fall of his hair. She was accusing him of a lot of things that he knew he was guilty of, even if all of them had not been on purpose. He didn't try to defend himself, he just let her talk because she was clearly bothered by his behavior, and she had every right.
His actions were not her fault. Too many factors overall for his shitty mood. He should have taken his medication, probably shouldn't have fucked her, because he had liked fucking her too much. Too many things that he should have done differently, but it was too late to change them. He watched her try to pout at him, but she wasn't doing a very good job. The sight of her trying to look piteous against a backdrop of cat videos and pop music curled the corner of his mouth slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he lies again with falsely indignant. He seemed to think this was a decent enough confession to ignore all the previous points she had made. Perhaps he had been sending mixed signals, but he did not at all understand her cat metaphor even as she explained it. His hand slid further towards her knee, and he buried his face into the shoulder she had turned towards him. "I don't watch stuff," he explains against her skin. She was soft and warm and smelled familiar. Which was unsurprising since she was wearing his clothes and bathing in his products.
"We need to get you some shoes," he nuzzled his face deeper into dark curls. His hand left her knee and he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. She wouldn't fit perfectly without some maneuvering that he didn't have the energy for, but it worked for now.
Eventually she would leave, or he would scare her away, just the same as others before her. If she wanted to be here, Grayson would take advantage of it. "We can look into getting you some clothes tomorrow."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 06-03-2015
"You should apologize anyway," she declared. "I will accept your apology in the form of letting me sit on your shoulder during the day." She paused, a curl to her mouth as she tried to see his reflection in the screen so he wouldn't know she was looking. "And your face tomorrow night," she added.
She really wasn't good at playing cute.
It was hard to keep playing the dissatisfied party when he was running his hand over her and nuzzling at her like that. She dared a quick kiss to his forehead, just because. "You do! I saw you! I was in your lap while you did it." She huffed. "Unless you were just sitting on the couch, and didn't feel like turning the TV off. I bet you just sit on the couch in silence, thinking about… facts." She narrowed her eyes as she tried to think of the most terrible and useless possible thing. "About spiders. Spider facts." Okay, probably not. She didn't know enough about him, really, to know what kinds of things he might plausibly sit silently and brood over. She doubted it was actually spider facts. "Not everyone likes to sit around thinking about spider facts, Grayson. You should get Netflix."
She'd noticed, of course, how well-stocked his medicine cabinet was. Habitual, to check that sort of thing, just in case someone had something fun. It didn't occur to her that he'd been skipping doses, or else she may have been concerned. She was more the self-medicating type than the not-medicating-at-all.
Laughter as a cat took flight in fear of a lizard transitioned to a sound of pleased surprise as he wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. She was more than happy to wriggle backward into him, slide her legs along his and try to tangle them together. "Sorry," she muttered, because it was probably awkward getting repeatedly whacked by a particular small and fluffy appendage. There wasn't really anything to pin it to except him, and that rather defeated the purpose.
"You don't want to leave me trapped in your house all barefoot and naked?" she teased. "How progressive. Are you sure you're a cop?" She chuckled, walking fingers along the arm that held her. "If you insist," she said, as if he were twisting her arm about it, "I wouldn't mind playing dress-up."
She really wasn't good at playing cute.
It was hard to keep playing the dissatisfied party when he was running his hand over her and nuzzling at her like that. She dared a quick kiss to his forehead, just because. "You do! I saw you! I was in your lap while you did it." She huffed. "Unless you were just sitting on the couch, and didn't feel like turning the TV off. I bet you just sit on the couch in silence, thinking about… facts." She narrowed her eyes as she tried to think of the most terrible and useless possible thing. "About spiders. Spider facts." Okay, probably not. She didn't know enough about him, really, to know what kinds of things he might plausibly sit silently and brood over. She doubted it was actually spider facts. "Not everyone likes to sit around thinking about spider facts, Grayson. You should get Netflix."
She'd noticed, of course, how well-stocked his medicine cabinet was. Habitual, to check that sort of thing, just in case someone had something fun. It didn't occur to her that he'd been skipping doses, or else she may have been concerned. She was more the self-medicating type than the not-medicating-at-all.
Laughter as a cat took flight in fear of a lizard transitioned to a sound of pleased surprise as he wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. She was more than happy to wriggle backward into him, slide her legs along his and try to tangle them together. "Sorry," she muttered, because it was probably awkward getting repeatedly whacked by a particular small and fluffy appendage. There wasn't really anything to pin it to except him, and that rather defeated the purpose.
"You don't want to leave me trapped in your house all barefoot and naked?" she teased. "How progressive. Are you sure you're a cop?" She chuckled, walking fingers along the arm that held her. "If you insist," she said, as if he were twisting her arm about it, "I wouldn't mind playing dress-up."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 06-08-2015
He could see her watching his reflection in the computer screen, not nearly as sneaky as she thought she was. They basically stared at each other through the glare. When she spoke he immediately buried his face in her shoulder to hide his change in expression. A cheeky grin that was out of place on his usually stoic features. "I will think about it," he conceded; the words muffled by dark ringlets. "Depends on how well you can behave."
He pulled away from her shoulder and she kissed his forehead, and for a moment he looked offended. Not for-real offended. The kind of offended that a Labrador mimics when you blow on it's ears: confused and caught off-guard. "Don't worry about," he mutters, not at all bothered by her tail, regardless of it's enthusiasm.
"Spider facts are very important," he deadpanned. He adjusted his body so he was lying on his stomach, even though she had just gotten comfortable aligned against him. He slid back far enough that his could prop his chin gently on her hip. He seemed restless, as he pinned his hands beneath his own weight. Grey eyes watched her from behind thick lenses. "Such as: did you know, that there is more than fifty-thousand different species of spider?" He turned his head, so his cheek was pressed to her body, and he was looking at the screen again.
"If you want Netflix, sign me up for Netflix." A strange victory on her part. What was the point of giving in to this specific want of hers, when she probably wasn't sticking around for very long?
Her laughter vibrated against his face, and he almost found himself smiling because of it. He remained as stone-faced as always instead, since it came so naturally. He placed an arm around her again, and she danced fingers over his skin. "I'm not keeping you prisoner like some sort of hippy sister-wife." Blatant displeasure laced his tone, since she probably couldn't see his frown. "But I don't know how I am supposed to take you shopping when you are a dog when the stores are open."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 06-08-2015
Nadine grinned, triumphant, because she could absolutely tell that she'd gotten him. Even if he was trying very hard to hide it. Maybe it was because she'd said something, but he seemed to be watching her much more than he was watching epic feline fails. Good. She was much more interesting, or at least, wanted to be.
"I have to earn my cunnilingus?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and attempting to watch him more directly as she spoke. "What if I'm bad?" she pressed. "Do I have to give you head? If I'm bad, and then good, do we have to sixty-nine? Because that's actually really uncomfortable, so I'd rather we do one or the other. Or one then the other. Not at the same time."
He probably did not have a formal system for keeping score of who owed head to whom. But, better safe than trying to suck cock upside-down.
He responded poorly to the strangest things. When she held his hand, when she kissed his forehead. Little shows of affection, things theoretically associated with emotional intimacy. She couldn't figure out what specifically it was that threw him off, if it was intimacy in general or if it was having it come from her. She couldn't tell, either, exactly why he adjusted his position the way that he did. It might have been the kiss, or her tail, or even just that he was fidgety.
Still, he hadn't stopped touching her entirely. That was a good sign. And he was still looking at her.
"Oh my god," she laughed. "You actually do! No, you're lying. There's no way there's that many spiders. That's too many spiders. Or else, like, half of them are all from some kind of bullshit spider island with ridiculous spider biodiversity. Like Australia. I can believe beetles, but not spiders." He was in a perfect position to run her fingertips through his hair, so she did. Part of her smile may well have been due to being, in theory, a dog petting a man.
"I will get you the two-week free trial," she said loftily, "and you will like it so much you will never be able to give it up."
His defensive tone amused her, as if she might actually believe that keeping her imprisoned in his home was his preference. He barely wanted her there at all, and he'd made that clear from the beginning. The more naked and more vulnerable she was, the less comfortable he became. "Why specify hippie?" she giggled. "I don't think hippies keep prisoners or wives. You might be thinking of Mormons. Or Scientologists?" The video came to an end, and she hit escape before it could automatically begin some kind of terrible-looking video about small children being cute.
"Tell them I'm your… seeing-eye poodle? K-9 unit in training? Service dog? Service dog. People keep all kinds of service dogs. For anxiety, and stuff. You can keep me in your man-purse, and pick out things you want to see me wearing." The hand her head had been propped on wrapped a curl around her index finger. "I don't think you'll have any trouble. Anyone who sees you will just assume you're buying gifts for your girlfriend."
"I have to earn my cunnilingus?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and attempting to watch him more directly as she spoke. "What if I'm bad?" she pressed. "Do I have to give you head? If I'm bad, and then good, do we have to sixty-nine? Because that's actually really uncomfortable, so I'd rather we do one or the other. Or one then the other. Not at the same time."
He probably did not have a formal system for keeping score of who owed head to whom. But, better safe than trying to suck cock upside-down.
He responded poorly to the strangest things. When she held his hand, when she kissed his forehead. Little shows of affection, things theoretically associated with emotional intimacy. She couldn't figure out what specifically it was that threw him off, if it was intimacy in general or if it was having it come from her. She couldn't tell, either, exactly why he adjusted his position the way that he did. It might have been the kiss, or her tail, or even just that he was fidgety.
Still, he hadn't stopped touching her entirely. That was a good sign. And he was still looking at her.
"Oh my god," she laughed. "You actually do! No, you're lying. There's no way there's that many spiders. That's too many spiders. Or else, like, half of them are all from some kind of bullshit spider island with ridiculous spider biodiversity. Like Australia. I can believe beetles, but not spiders." He was in a perfect position to run her fingertips through his hair, so she did. Part of her smile may well have been due to being, in theory, a dog petting a man.
"I will get you the two-week free trial," she said loftily, "and you will like it so much you will never be able to give it up."
His defensive tone amused her, as if she might actually believe that keeping her imprisoned in his home was his preference. He barely wanted her there at all, and he'd made that clear from the beginning. The more naked and more vulnerable she was, the less comfortable he became. "Why specify hippie?" she giggled. "I don't think hippies keep prisoners or wives. You might be thinking of Mormons. Or Scientologists?" The video came to an end, and she hit escape before it could automatically begin some kind of terrible-looking video about small children being cute.
"Tell them I'm your… seeing-eye poodle? K-9 unit in training? Service dog? Service dog. People keep all kinds of service dogs. For anxiety, and stuff. You can keep me in your man-purse, and pick out things you want to see me wearing." The hand her head had been propped on wrapped a curl around her index finger. "I don't think you'll have any trouble. Anyone who sees you will just assume you're buying gifts for your girlfriend."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 06-09-2015
"I don't know whether to be concerned or impressed that you have a whole system designed for this." He adjusted himself so he could use one hand to push a few curls from her face, knuckles brushing along her cheek. As if it made anymore sense for him to show affection to her. "Though, aside from the sixty-nine, it all sounds like a hierarchy of rewards."He pulled his hand away from her face to adjust his glasses, and he was no longer looking at her. Not used to affection, and not used to her. Despite the way he sprawled over her and clung to her like some sort of over-sized lap dog. She was strange and frustrating, but she was also comforting. That could have something to do with her being the one who actually had the canine features. Or perhaps it was the way she demanded very little of him compared to the rest of his life.
"Alright, you caught me," he says with rumbling laughter. He slid off of her entirely and rolled onto his back. Staring up at the sheet-tent ceiling, he laced his hands over his stomach. "There's actually only thirty-five thousand different known species." She did not want to hear about spiders, but he was going to talk about spiders, because she earned it for being so sassy. "Did you know that some spiders can see both UVA and UVB light? Or that compared to it's weight, spider silk is stronger than steel?"
He moved his hands, so they were under his head, propping it up as he crossed his feet, that were sticking out of the fort, at the ankles. He'd not made another move to touch her.
"I don't really think I will like it that much. I don't have a whole lot of time to watch TV."
A two-week trial did sound much more preferable.
"Then I don't like hippies, or Mormans, or Scientologists. I don't like anything. I'm just a big, grumpy, loner that has acquired a tiny, cute dog-woman like some kind of awful sitcom." He yawned and pulled his hands out from beneath him to scrub, tiredly, at his jaw. "You can probably find something just like that on Netflix."
He snorted. "Ah, yes. Tiny poodle. So fierce, so threatening. " He sat up, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. He would not be keeping her in a man purse. Though, that was something his husband would have done if Grayson had ever let the other man have a dog. He could almost hear the way he'd have been called a hypocrite if he'd seen his husband in three years. "We will figure something out, but for now I am going to bed. You're welcome to join me whenever you're ready. Don't stay up too late, if we're going out in the morning."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 06-10-2015
<img style="max-width:25%;float:left;margin:0 18px;"src="misc/images/characters/sparkledean.png]
"I wouldn't call it a system," she protested, and as his fingers brushed her skin she practically nuzzled against the touch. "Although it's pretty telling if you consider blowjobs a reward for me. You must have a very high opinion of your dick." She giggled, but at the same time the tip of her tongue slid briefly over her lower lip.
He was not necessarily wrong.
He couldn't seem to decide how affectionate he wanted to be, petting her and cuddling with her only so long as she didn't reciprocate. The instant any attention got drawn to the fact that he was being cute, it fell all to pieces. She had a hunch that he was a cynic wrapped around a romantic. Long-term, that could be dangerous, though not as much as it would have been if she hadn't been a dog. She'd just have to convince him that it didn't mean as much as he thought it did, before he got the wrong idea.
She liked it when he laughed. She wished he'd do it more. She wiggled around so that he wasn't lying behind her, so she could see him instead of the currently less-interesting laptop. "Everyone knows that!" she said finally. "That's how Spiderman catches helicopters." Her perception of things that everyone knew might have been skewed.
She didn't try to touch him after he'd withdrawn from her, but she did have a little frown. If he was actually that busy, he wasn't going to have a lot of time to pay attention to her. She'd stick around a while regardless, because she'd realized she could use the rest. But if it was just going to be her, alone, watching Netflix most nights… that would get boring fast.
"You don't like anything?" she asked, with a melodramatic pout. "Not even cute women who are not actually that tiny?" Her attempt at sorrow and her indignation did not really mesh very well together. But he'd admitted she was cute, so that was something.
"Rawr rawr rawr," she said, which was spectacularly unconvincing for someone who could actually bark and growl. She changed tactics. "I'm undercover!" she decided. "I'm deliberately nonthreatening, to lull bad guys into a false sense of security." She pulled herself up, pulling her legs underneath herself to kneel. He was taller than her when they were both sitting up, so she had to kneel to match him. She wanted to press a kiss to his cheek before he left, hand on the other side of his face so he couldn't turn away.
"I'll go to bed soon," she said, though she hadn't decided yet if she was lying. "Try not to steal all the blankets."
He was not necessarily wrong.
He couldn't seem to decide how affectionate he wanted to be, petting her and cuddling with her only so long as she didn't reciprocate. The instant any attention got drawn to the fact that he was being cute, it fell all to pieces. She had a hunch that he was a cynic wrapped around a romantic. Long-term, that could be dangerous, though not as much as it would have been if she hadn't been a dog. She'd just have to convince him that it didn't mean as much as he thought it did, before he got the wrong idea.
She liked it when he laughed. She wished he'd do it more. She wiggled around so that he wasn't lying behind her, so she could see him instead of the currently less-interesting laptop. "Everyone knows that!" she said finally. "That's how Spiderman catches helicopters." Her perception of things that everyone knew might have been skewed.
She didn't try to touch him after he'd withdrawn from her, but she did have a little frown. If he was actually that busy, he wasn't going to have a lot of time to pay attention to her. She'd stick around a while regardless, because she'd realized she could use the rest. But if it was just going to be her, alone, watching Netflix most nights… that would get boring fast.
"You don't like anything?" she asked, with a melodramatic pout. "Not even cute women who are not actually that tiny?" Her attempt at sorrow and her indignation did not really mesh very well together. But he'd admitted she was cute, so that was something.
"Rawr rawr rawr," she said, which was spectacularly unconvincing for someone who could actually bark and growl. She changed tactics. "I'm undercover!" she decided. "I'm deliberately nonthreatening, to lull bad guys into a false sense of security." She pulled herself up, pulling her legs underneath herself to kneel. He was taller than her when they were both sitting up, so she had to kneel to match him. She wanted to press a kiss to his cheek before he left, hand on the other side of his face so he couldn't turn away.
"I'll go to bed soon," she said, though she hadn't decided yet if she was lying. "Try not to steal all the blankets."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 06-19-2015
"I don't think you would have bothered mentioning blowjobs if you didn't like them. So, I am only left to assume that you like them. Therefore: reward. Boom. Science." He watched the way her tongue slipped over her lip, attempting not to be distracted by it. Not wanting to think about how it made him want to kiss her. He shouldn’t think about kissing her, when he shouldn't even be touching her. That sounded really harsh in his head. She didn't have an infectious disease and it's not like she had tricked him into having sex with her, somehow. Nope, he had brilliantly gone and done that all on his own. He was passively pleased by his nature to keep to himself, because this was not a story he was interested in retelling.
"I'm not sure everyone knows that," he countered, sarcastically. "Also, I don't know what you are talking about?" Grayson could only handle being so much of a nerd. He was a gigantic one in his own way, but that had not included comics and superheroes.
Grayson sighed. Or maybe he huffed. It was a childish noise, that only exacerbated the Golden Retriever-like personality he had inexplicably adopted. "You are very tiny," he mumbled.
After she kissed his cheek, he turned his head to kiss her mouth in return. A quick, sweet peck, and pulled away before she could react to the gesture.
"I'll steal all the blankets I want," he argued, failing to look stately as he climbed out of her surprising well-constructed fort. He had chosen to ignore her suggestions on what to do with her puppy form in favor of going to bed. It sounded like a really good problem for Future Grayson, because Present Grayson was tired.
"Good night, Aida," he called before disappearing up the stairs.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 06-20-2015
"Your methodology is terrible!" she managed, but only barely, because she was laughing. There was something uniquely delightful about someone being silly when they usually weren't. Particularly when she felt like she'd coaxed it out of him. It was like a victory.
"Everyone knows that," she insisted. "Spiderman shoots spiderwebs, because they're super strong." She gestured with her hands, tapping her middle fingers against her palms to indicate web shooting. "There were, like, twelve cartoons and five movies and a bajillion comics and they explain it every time. Even the one that had Iceman for some reason even though I'm like a hundred percent they don't even know each other." Her response to accusations of tininess were met by continued attempts to shoot him with invisible web-shooters.
When he kissed her unexpectedly, she smiled, shoulders curling inward and fingers lacing together in her lap as her tail wagged behind her.
She was allowed. He was cute.
"Good night, Grayson," she called in response, tail still wagging. She waited until he was upstairs to stretch her arms outside the fort and snatch his forgotten beers. She drank them as she signed him up for Netflix, recalling his email from her time with his pilfered phone. Her original plan had been to watch old episodes of reality television, but one of the first things it suggested to her was Bill Nye The Science Guy.
So, obviously, she was going to watch the shit out of that.
She finished four episodes before the laptop battery started to complain. Rather than bother charging it, she shut the lid, and abandoned her fort and her empty beer bottles. She stopped by the bathroom first, then joined Grayson in his room as quietly as she could manage. Peeling off her sweater, she slid naked beneath the covers, snuggling close with a yawn. She'd end up on the pillows when she turned, but if she snuggled close enough, maybe she could end up on his chest instead. That sounded nice.
"Everyone knows that," she insisted. "Spiderman shoots spiderwebs, because they're super strong." She gestured with her hands, tapping her middle fingers against her palms to indicate web shooting. "There were, like, twelve cartoons and five movies and a bajillion comics and they explain it every time. Even the one that had Iceman for some reason even though I'm like a hundred percent they don't even know each other." Her response to accusations of tininess were met by continued attempts to shoot him with invisible web-shooters.
When he kissed her unexpectedly, she smiled, shoulders curling inward and fingers lacing together in her lap as her tail wagged behind her.
She was allowed. He was cute.
"Good night, Grayson," she called in response, tail still wagging. She waited until he was upstairs to stretch her arms outside the fort and snatch his forgotten beers. She drank them as she signed him up for Netflix, recalling his email from her time with his pilfered phone. Her original plan had been to watch old episodes of reality television, but one of the first things it suggested to her was Bill Nye The Science Guy.
So, obviously, she was going to watch the shit out of that.
She finished four episodes before the laptop battery started to complain. Rather than bother charging it, she shut the lid, and abandoned her fort and her empty beer bottles. She stopped by the bathroom first, then joined Grayson in his room as quietly as she could manage. Peeling off her sweater, she slid naked beneath the covers, snuggling close with a yawn. She'd end up on the pillows when she turned, but if she snuggled close enough, maybe she could end up on his chest instead. That sounded nice.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 07-22-2015
Grayson woke to a headache and a tiny black poodle sleeping on his chest. He knew the headache was from missing his medication, but he had no idea how Aida had worked her way on top of him. He remembered the human version coming to bed in the middle of the night. He remembered moving to accommodate for her, and pulling her against him with one arm around her waist. He looked over to the clock on the nightstand. It flashed ten o' clock at him in red, and he could hardly believe he'd actually slept so long. "Sorry," he said as he sat up, voice thick and gravelly with sleep. He felt bad about waking her when he moved. He would have just drifted back to sleep if not for the pounding in his head. He tucked her into his arm as he made the bed with one hand, and placed her back down when he was finished to do as she pleased.
He went about his normal waking and bathroom routine, though he skipped the part where he went jogging. He made a point of remembering to take his pills along with a few ibuprofen for good measure. When he was dressed, in a forest green button down and jeans, he located his glasses. Pushing them onto his face, he rolled up his sleeves and ran fingers through his mop of hair before trotting down to find himself some breakfast.
Leftover pizza would do, but he'd probably regret it later. He settled for scrambled eggs and toast even though he really didn't want to deal with the dishes. He grabbed the daily paper from the porch as he waited for coffee. Settling at the island with the news, and his breakfast, he only skimmed the headlines. Pausing for articles that managed to pull his attention from the fact that he now had to consider that he basically had a pet.
GC» Where's the best place for pet supplies?
LH» Holy shit youre keeping it?
GC» Just answer the damn question.
LH» I cant stop giggling omg. The place downtown I guess the one by the Starbucks we always go to
GC» Thanks
LH» I cant fucking believe you
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 07-25-2015
Nadine spent some time curled up in the very middle of Grayson's bed, half sleeping and half watching him as he dressed and got ready for the day. She slept again after he left the room, though not for very long. Too easy to get cold once his warmth had left the bed, not enough sun streaming through his windows to make a good hot spot. She rolled around and yawned for a bit, stretching out her paws before standing with a shiver.
Leaping out of bed, nails clicked on hardwood as she made her way to the stairs, which were a whole production. One step at a time, two paws at a time, because her legs weren't long enough to do it any other way.
The tell-tale clicking announced her presence in the kitchen, opting not to bother watching any mooses today. Instead she stood upright to scratch at his barstool in order to inform him that she wanted to be up where he was. She also made fun of him for reading a paper instead of just using the internet, like a normal person, but it all sounded like barking anyway.
She wasn't particularly interested in his breakfast, with its egregious lack of either ham or bacon. Mostly she just wanted to be in his lap, where the warm was. She whined a little for good measure.
Really, this wasn't that different from when she wasn't a dog.
Leaping out of bed, nails clicked on hardwood as she made her way to the stairs, which were a whole production. One step at a time, two paws at a time, because her legs weren't long enough to do it any other way.
The tell-tale clicking announced her presence in the kitchen, opting not to bother watching any mooses today. Instead she stood upright to scratch at his barstool in order to inform him that she wanted to be up where he was. She also made fun of him for reading a paper instead of just using the internet, like a normal person, but it all sounded like barking anyway.
She wasn't particularly interested in his breakfast, with its egregious lack of either ham or bacon. Mostly she just wanted to be in his lap, where the warm was. She whined a little for good measure.
Really, this wasn't that different from when she wasn't a dog.