A Monster's Kindness by Jessica Meats

Author:Jessica Meats
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Shifter, Shape-shifter, fantasy, romance, gay, lgbt, lgbtq, lgbtq+, lgbt+, fairytale, monster, SF&F, sacrifice
Publisher: Jessica Meats
Published: 2019-10-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Cull didn’t mention the kiss for the rest of the day. He left and went into the woods as he so often did, and sat silently through their shared dinner. Was he looking at Parton more often than normal? What did it mean if he did? Parton was afraid to ask, afraid to find out that the answer might be that Cull was staring at him because he felt uncomfortable. Perhaps the kiss had been terrible. Perhaps Cull regretted it. Perhaps he felt disgusted that he’d indulged in Parton’s whims.

Or was he thinking about kissing him again?

Some piece of Parton expected it to happen again, wanted more kisses, more touches, more moments of connectedness, like when they’d worked together to fix the roof. But those moments didn’t come, and Parton was forced to accept that the kiss hadn’t meant the start of something.

When Cull left after dinner, gone into the woods to transform as usual, Parton found himself staring at the empty bed, wondering what he should do. If he stopped sharing Cull’s bed, then that was an acknowledgement that the kiss had changed something between them, and not in a good way. Would Cull feel hurt and rejected if Parton went back to sleeping on the floor? Would he prefer him to?

In the end, exhaustion made the decision for him and Parton lay down on the bed just so that he could get a better rest. He told himself that if Cull minded the sharing, he would say something in the morning, or let Parton know by refusing to get into the same bed as him. For now, Parton had the bed and the cabin to himself, so it seemed foolish to waste the slightly more comfortable sleeping arrangements. As he closed his eyes, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for: a future of more kisses, or a return to the comfortable companionship they had been forming before Parton’s desires had disrupted things.

Cull didn’t mention the kiss the next day or in the days that followed. He seemed eager to pretend it had never happened, but for Parton, the memory of it was like a blazing fire in his mind, consuming all other thoughts. No matter how he tried to distract himself with chores and preparation, the thought of Cull’s lips softly brushing against his own intruded.

Cull also didn’t question the continued sharing of the bed. Each morning, Parton would wake to find Cull beside him in the bed, their bodies pressed together, a thin layer of blanket between them, and he would have to remind himself that one kiss didn’t grant him permission to stare at Cull’s bare skin, to touch him the way he wanted to, to lean in and press a kiss to the bend where shoulder became neck, the way he longed to, despite the whisper of Corron’s voice in his thoughts that he shouldn’t want such things. They shared a bed because of practicality. Cull had kissed him to demonstrate that he didn’t hate him for liking other men.

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