“The face doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong,” Riot managed. “It means I’m trying to be careful.”
“Careful about what?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. Not when the truth wascareful about not pinning you to that bed and finding out how many fingers it takes for you to mewl.
“You should eat,” he said instead.
Cass settled onto the edge of the bed, wincing at the movement. “I’ll try. My stomach feels strange, though.”
“That’s the—” Riot stopped.Don’t scare him.“That’s normal. You still need to eat.”
Cass nibbled obediently at a protein bar, and the silence stretched between them. Riot tried not to watch him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Were you always like this?”
Riot blinked. “Like what?”
“You know.” Cass gestured vaguely at all of him. “Like this. Big and scary and... you.”
“No,” Riot said with a sigh. “I wasn’t always like this.”
“What were you like before?”
Riot considered the question. No one had asked him that in years. Maybe ever.
“Different,” he said finally.
Cass’s eyes went wide. “You mean you were short?”
The laugh escaped before Riot could stop it—genuine, surprised, still a bit rusty from disuse. “No, princess. I was always tall.”
“Then what’s different?”
Riot met his eyes, and something shifted in his chest. This strange, Elysian creature, was looking at him like the answer actually mattered.
“The scary stuff,” he said. “I wasn’t born with that. It was... put there. By people who wanted to use me as a weapon.”
“That’s really sad,” Cass said, fiddling with the wrapper on his food. “Does it hurt? Being scary?”
The question hit somewhere vulnerable. Somewhere Riot had armored over years ago and forgotten existed.
“Sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry it happened to you.” Cass pulled his legs up onto the bed and hugged his knees, his hair falling around him like a curtain. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re scary. I mean, I know you are scary. But you’re also nice. Those things can both be true, can’t they?”
Riot didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded.
Cass suddenly tensed and pressed his forehead to his knees, his arms tightening around his legs with a small whimper that went straight to Riot’s cock.
“I’m sorry,” Cass said when he lifted his head, a pained smile splayed across his beet red face. “I know I’m gross. All sweaty and probably smelling bad—”
