Page 32 of Running Feral

“It’s okay to be scared. It’s only me here. You can be whatever. I don’t care.” I watch him, but he doesn’t respond. “As long as you don’t put my dick in a blender.”

Tobias snorts, shaking his head at me and bringing back that ghost of a smile. I think a little hint of a tear slips out, because he quickly swipes at his eye and sniffs a little, but I pretend not to notice.

“Alright. Bet. I’m fine, though.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Do you wanna watch a movie? I’ll let you traumatize me.”

“Sure.”

He walks into the bedroom reluctantly, I’m assuming to get dressed. I let myself do a very quick, silent sweep of the room,double-checking the windows are locked. Not that you could get to them easily, anyway. I know I’m being paranoid.

I make sure I’m on the couch before he gets out, because I don’t want my anxiety to set off his own. He walks over to me but pauses before sitting down.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

He shakes his head. Then he looks at the couch, and I realize that this couch has kind of become a minefield for us. It’s entirely my fault, because I’m the one who keeps changing the rules. But as much as I don’t want to overstep, I want to deprive him of something he clearly needs right after I just freaked him out even less.

“Do you wanna sit with me?”

I lean back as I say it, trying to look relaxed and inviting. Tobias doesn’t speak, but he nods. Once the offer is out there, he doesn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable. He climbs into the narrow space between me and the arm of the couch, so most of his body weight is on my lap and he’s half-facing the TV, half-leaning against me. Then he works his way closer and closer against my chest until he finds the spot that apparently works for him.

The whole process sinks into me like a weight, filling me up and tying me to the spot. As I hand him the remote, I realize how completely laughable it was that I might ever have been able to stop myself from having this.

Not that I have any idea whatthisis. Not that it should ever be more than what it is right now. But even that is already too overwhelming to be something I could possibly give up.

Hopefully, Tobias will sleep again. I’ll sit, and wait, and watch for Eamon. So he can sleep safe.

Chapter Eleven

Ifeel more rested than I have in a very long time, and I could definitely get used to this. The twitchy, nervous energy that controls me whenever I’m awake is still there, for sure. But it’s dulled. Like there’s a piece of fabric sitting in between me and the electric sparks that power that part of my brain.

The awkwardness that I’ve gotten used to is missing when Gunnar and I wake up. And all through the normal morning—well, afternoon technically, but morning for us—things like teeth-brushing and whatever, it never makes itself known. We’re both quiet. But it’s a peaceful quiet.

I keep eying Gunnar for signs that he’s about to freak out. There’s been a constant sense of push and pull with him from the start. Which I get. I kind of crash-landed into his life, and he doesn’t owe me shit. Especially not just because no matter how much I deny it, I really do follow him around like a desperate teenager with a crush.

It’s humiliating but inexorable, so I’ve learned to accept it. And if he’s going to insist on standing there in the kitchen,barefoot but still wearing slacks and that stupid wrinkled button-down, with the shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows so I can see the way the muscles and tendons in his forearms flex as he gently cracks some eggs into a frying pan… All deep olive skin and the kind of dark body hair that isn’t overwhelming but reeks of masculinity…

I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

I’m only human. And not a very strong one at that.

So, I sit at the table in the oversized loungewear that I’ve come to live in permanently, openly ogling whenever I get a glimpse of the veins protruding from the side of his forearm.

I’ve suffered in life, and I deserve a little something in return. The horny police can’t stop me.

“Tobias?”

The voice snaps me out of my daze. Apparently, I wasn’t paying attention to Gunnar actually speaking to me while I was too busy objectifying him.

“Mm?”

“Do you want coffee?” He’s staring at me like I’m being weird, so I probably am, but what else is new? At least I don’t have drool on my face.

I think.

“I can get it. You’re fine.”

Hopping up, I busy myself with getting coffee for both of us. Focusing on the physical task helps me order my thoughts and pull them back in line. Away from the pervy place, which is harmless but also a little pathetic. Especially considering it’s not like I have a chance with someone like Gunnar for anything more than pity snuggles until he eventually releases me back into the wild.

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