Biting his lip, Pyxlevir snorted. While his dick was happy to rise at the thought of Gramlithyn now that the hybrid was back in his life, he had zero experience. Pyxlevir could imagine asexy scenario, but he’d probably wind up turning Gramlithyn off further if he slid naked into the man’s bed.
His belly rumbled, and Pyxlevir thanked his empty stomach for the interruption. He’d already jerked off as soon as he’d switched off the lights, and he didn’t need another reminder of how repugnant he was to Gramlithyn. What he needed was a snack and a few hours of sleep so he could hang awkwardly around the apartment until he could return to work again.
Pyxlevir shoved off his blankets and sat up. Wiggling until his feet hit the floor, Pyxlevir stood and straightened his pajamas. As usual, the pattern on his pants was wild. The grinning purple carrots were hand-selected by the talented seamstress, Larissa D’Vairedraconis, and she kept his dresser drawers full of fun options.
Since his eyes had adjusted to the dark, Pyxlevir didn’t bother switching off the light as he slunk out of his bedroom. The apartment was quiet, and Pyxlevir was grateful to be alone. It wasn’t peaceful. Such a mundane emotion was apparently beyond Pyxlevir these days, despite his best efforts. Any sense of solace had flown out the window the second he’d learned Gramlithyn had returned to Vegas.
Despite the rings on his toes, his feet made no sound as he padded to the kitchen. Pyxlevir yanked open the fridge and grabbed his nearly empty container of radishes. A return trip to the grocery store would be necessary soon, but Pyxlevir hoped to sneak out on his own so he wouldn’t have to spend another awkward minute of his life being ignored by Gramlithyn in the vegetable aisle.
Being avoided at home was far more comfortable, Pyxlevir mused as he closed the refrigerator door and plunged the kitchen into darkness again. He snagged a radish and raised it to his lips. A heartbeat later, he froze as the unmistakable sound of the front door opening registered.
Everyone was in bed. Were they being robbed? Pyxlevir’s breath grew choppy. Should he scream? The room was suddenly flooded with light. Pyxlevir squeezed his eyes shut and yelped.
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” a familiar voice said.
Trembling, Pyxlevir managed a shaky chuckle as his gaze clashed with Gramlithyn’s. His mouth dry, Pyxlevir had to swallow to make any sound.
“No worries,” Pyxlevir replied.
In a snug T-shirt, sweats, and sneakers, Gramlithyn’s carroty scent was overwhelming. His hair was messy, and he was standing inches from Pyxlevir.
“Are you okay?” Gramlithyn asked.
“Yep,” Pyxlevir squeaked. “Never better.”
Gramlithyn bent and plucked something from the floor. “You dropped a radish.”
“Whoops.” Pyxlevir hadn’t even noticed that it’d slipped from his fingers. But in his defense, Gramlithyn had terrified him.
“I’m really sorry for scaring you,” Gramlithyn said, tossing the radish into the trash. “I went out for a zebra run, and I thought everyone was already in bed.”
“Yeah, I was, but I got hungry.”
Dismissing Pyxlevir, Gramlithyn stalked to the fridge and yanked out a bottle. He snatched a glass from a nearby cupboard and splashed orange juice into it. Pyxlevir stared as Gramlithyn gulped his beverage in two large swallows. His cock jerked, and he nearly groaned at his own foolishness.
The man had scared Pyxlevir shitless, then proceeded to ignore him. Why his hormones were reacting with delight was a mystery.
“You aren’t eating your radishes,” Gramlithyn observed.
It was on the tip of Pyxlevir’s tongue to lie and tell Gramlithyn he’d already finished, so he could run to his room,but his belly betrayed him by grumbling loudly in the silent kitchen. To avoid saying anything stupid, Pyxlevir shoved a radish in his mouth. He slunk to a barstool and hefted himself onto the upholstered seat. His feet dangled in the air as he watched Gramlithyn pour himself a second glass of juice and grab an orange from the fridge.
“Do you want some citrus with your citrus?” Pyxlevir mused.
“Huh?”
Pyxlevir hadn’t meant to say anything aloud, but whatever. “You’re drinking orange juice and peeling an orange. Are you trying to prevent scurvy or something?”
“Pretty sure shifters can’t get that.”
“Maybe elves can.”
“You preferred vegetables to fruit as a kid; if elves could suffer from any vitamin deficiencies, you’d have them.”
“Any other complaints about me from our childhood that you’d like to bring up?” Pyxlevir asked, unable to keep the bite from his tone.
Gramlithyn’s gaze widened at Pyxlevir’s sharp inquiry. “I didn’t mean that as a complaint. You liked veggies. So what?”
If he wanted to keep his feelings of rejection a secret, he needed to think before he spoke. “I still prefer veggies,” Pyxlevir replied. He cleared his throat. “You never pointed out that I didn’t eat much fruit, so I was surprised to hear you say that.” It was a terrible explanation, but Pyxlevir had to salvage the conversation somehow or Gramlithyn would slither out of the room and they’d be no closer to finding any common ground.
