sylus right now seems to have absolutely zero respect for the concept of working from home.
you’re sitting on the couch with your laptop resting on your thighs, typing out a report for the association. you are right in the middle of typing a very professional sentence when the cushion beside you sinks down drastically.
a second later, a silver head drops right onto your laptop keyboard.
sylus stretches out across the rest of the couch, completely unbothered, using your laptop and by extension–your lap, as his personal pilloww. his heavy shoulder blocks your view of the screen and his silver hair instantly presses against your keys, creating a random string of letters.
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjjjjjjkkg.
“sylus,” you sigh, staring down at him. “i’m in the middle of a report.”
“delete it,” he rumbles, voice low and lazy against your thigh. “it looks boring.”
“it’s an official report of a wanderer!” you say, trying to nudge his shoulder but he’s like a block of concrete. he dosen’t move an inch. “get off, you’re typing gibberish.”
sylus lets out a deep, vibrating huff that warms your leg through your pants. slowly, his head slides off the laptop and fully into your lap. he tilts his head up to look at you. his piercing red eyes are full of pure, sleepy mischief and that familiar, arrogant smirk is firmly in place.
“let the association handle it,” he says smoothly, reaching to slap the laptop shut. it snaps close, trapping his fingers before he pulls them free. “you’ve been staring at that little box for two hours, kitten. pay attention to me instead.”
“you’re a giant menace,” you huff, crossing your arms and glaring down at him.
“whatever you say, sweetie,” he replies with lazy fondness.
he dosen’t even wait for you to start arguing again. he reaches his large, long, hands up, hooks them under your arms and effortlessly pulls you down. you let out a large gasp as you slide off the couch cushions and collapse right into his broad chest. your laptop slides harmlessly onto the carpet.
sylus wraps his arms around your waist, locking you flag against him. he feels like a furnace, chest rising and falling beneath your cheek.
“sylus! let me up, i need to send that–”
“shh. you’re making too much noise, sweetie,” he chides playfully, voice dropping to a comfortable drawl.
he tucks his chin over the top of your head, long fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back, effectively melting all the tension out of your spine.
you try to wiggle out of his grip, but it’s completely useless. he’s too warm, too strong and entirely too comfortable. with a defeated sigh, you let your forehead drop against his collarbone, your hands curling into his shirt.
“i hate you,” you mumble into his chest.
sylus just chuckles, a deep sound that echoes right under your ear. he presses a quick, lazy kiss to the crown of your head, his grip tightening just a fraction to keep you right where you are.
“sure you do,” he purrs, his eyes closing as he settles in for a nap. “now stay still. you make a good blanket.”
