Page 75 of Shifter Omegaverse AU

Godsdamnit, why hadn’t Troy warned him? In all his stress and anxiety over Ruben, he hadn’t thought to get Milo anything.

Did he have anything in his house he could give to Milo? Something cute and personal, but not too personal, because it was still only their third date? But it was also already their third date, and maybe that was supposed to mean something—

The back of Rowan’s head prickled, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

He was not going to shift, have his hawk try to make a nest out of their fated mate’s skirt suit, and then end up naked on his couch again. Despite still not having a real plan for the evening, that was decidedly not it.

Milo didn’t seem to notice the lack of gift, or if they did, they didn’t say anything as Rowan placed the pizza order. He made sure to order all of Milo’s favorite toppings and an extra-large order of cheesy breadsticks without them even asking. Could that count as a gift? The way Milo kept grinning at him made it seem like maybe that was enough.

Maybe he could actually be enough.

Once the pizza arrived and the opening credits of the movie started rolling, Rowan settled against the back of the couch. It took the first half of the movie, but Rowan was able to eat one slice of pizza and both of Milo’s crusts. He’d even eaten the parts Milo’s mouth had touched, which he counted as one of the biggest wins of the day.

He had also kept his leg firmly pressed against Milo’s, even though at some point between work and the movie, Milo had removed their tights, so it was their bare skin that Rowan’s dress pants were touching.

As the heroine slayed the evil villain, Rowan took a chance and placed his hand on Milo’s skirt-covered thigh. Milo spent the last ten minutes of the movie staring at Rowan’s hand, while Rowan stared at them.

The moment Rowan shut off the TV, Milo turned their body, so they were facing Rowan, their legs still pressed together. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

If it was a question about the movie, they would be sorely disappointed. Rowan had barely followed the plot, too busy rehearsing in his head what he was going to say in therapy on Friday. Despite Troy’s advice, he still thought he should talk about touch. He wanted to ask her why laying his hand on Milo’s thigh felt so different from shaking hands with the kind saleswoman who had visited their office that afternoon. Or how the press of Milo’s knee was beginning to feel as familiar as the fabric of his favorite sweater and as reassuring as his omega mom’s voice in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“What does touch feel like for you?” Milo asked, startling Rowan out of his thoughts.

Had Rowan said some of that out loud? Had his musings interrupted the movie?

“I was just wondering,” Milo continued. “Because I’ve been thinking a lot about touch and…and Anabelle recently, and she always described it as her skin feeling too tight, like one of those blood pressure cuffs, but all over her body. Is it like that for you, too?”

A car honked outside, and the ice maker chugged to life in the kitchen.

“It’s funny you ask because I’ve been trying to think of a good way to describe it for therapy. The best analogy I can think of is that when I was in first grade, we planted watermelon seeds in these tiny pots in class and brought them home once they were ready to be planted outside. My ma helped me plant it in the backyard, and though it had plenty of sun and water, it ended up rotting on the vine. One day, I went out to check it, and it looked healthy enough, but when I picked it up, the entire bottom collapsed around my fingers.”

Milo’s eyes were wide, as if this was more riveting than the movie they had just semi-watched.

“As you can probably imagine, I panicked and ran inside to ask my mom if there was anything we could do to fix it.” Milo grimaced, and Rowan nodded. “She, obviously, was not thrilled. There was rotting watermelon guts pouring down my arms and onto the floor. It should’ve been obvious much sooner than it was, but it wasn’t until my mom shrieked at me to get the rotting fruit out of the house that I realized exactly what I was holding.”

The ice maker fell silent, and Milo stared down at Rowan’s hands as if they might be able to see the sticky red juice on them.

“That feeling of holding the rotting fruit and knowing that I couldn’t just drop it until I got back outside? That’s sort of what touch feels like to me sometimes. Not always, not all body parts, and not with every person in every situation, but this sort of skin-crawling, unnatural feeling.” Milo pulled their leg back, but Rowan scooted closer so the entire length of their legs was touching. “It isn’t like that all the time, though. Sometimes, like when we’re sitting together and I want to touch you, or when I'm kissing or having sex, I don’t notice it because…well, I guess it’s like I’m on a mission.”

“Like showing your mom your precious watermelon plant,” Milo said, and something in Rowan's chest squeezed painfully.

“Exactly. Some things trump the discomfort, and a lot of that has to do with connecting and feeling close to the people I…care about. In ways that still make me feel like I’m safe and can stop the touch whenever I need to.”

Milo ran their fingers down their bare leg. “And part of that has to do with skin on skin?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, but I’m hyper aware of touch when it’s skin touching skin. There are the tricks, like initiating, intention, purpose, and pressure, but it’s not always as simple as that.”

Milo knotted their fingers together in their lap. “Okay, I think I understand.”

Well, that was impressive because most days Rowan still didn’t feel like he understood. “I’m hoping I can work with my therapist to find ways to do more of the touching I want.”

“And what do you want?” Milo asked, their eyes glittering gray and green in the dim light.

“To kiss you.”

Milo puckered their lips, and Rowan couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and gave them a soft peck on the lips.