(warnings: nothing really. hurt/comfort, sexual implications, mentions of depression/self injury i think, aftercare. very fluffy very cute)
Wren was many, many things. But foremost, it was a whore. It knew no gentleness, aching for any sort of touch that didn't make them feel like they needed something soft.
So why the hell was it still lying in Nolan's bed? Why hadn't they run off like they usually would—any other day, it would just sneak out of the apartment before dawn. But, with morning light now peeking through the blinds, Wren found itself hesitant to evacuate the room. Naked, skin still clammy with sweat, and the thin furs on its neck bristled like a scared cat.
The night before was… Awkward. For them both. Wren had never been one for letting itself be treated softly, Nolan was never one to be gentle with people—yet, despite it, they held each other as if they'd disappear. Wren had kissed over the scars where Nolan's eye should have been, and Nolan had so lovingly roamed his hands over the scars on Wren's hips.
But now Wren was alone, curled in a bed that wasn't their own. Thighs still sore; that same dull throbbing in its muscles that they found so comforting. Nausea bubbled in the back of its throat. The room smelled like old soda and sex.
Nolan had left the bed before Wren woke up from its post coital nap. He was still in the apartment; they could hear him in the kitchen making breakfast. The tenderness of being cared for made them want to sob. It whined, leathery tail wagging slowly against the sheets. Zoned out, nearly dissociative, with the worst hangover imaginable.
Wren scratched its nails over the glowy pink ink that inscribed their lower stomach, jaw unhinging in a long yawn, ears twitching.
Their skin itched. Its teeth felt weird in its mouth.
Before they found the opportunity to start clawing at their skin, Wren felt something jump up onto the blankets. Nolan's cat, Luna. Wren sat up a little, hissing at the sting in their hips, the blanket they had been curled in now pooling at its waist.
“Hey, Pussycat..” They mumbled, reaching out to the scrawny black kitty. She purred and bumped her head against Wren's cold, grey-ish palm. And Wren purred back at her, as the lanky cat decided she wanted to crawl up next to them. She stared at them with wide, green eyes, as if judging them. She probably wasn't, but Wren was still exhausted, and everything felt like it was telling them how bad they had fucked up last night.
“Yeah, yeah.. I'll get up, girl.” Wren sighed, huffing out a soft exhale. Talking to Luna as if she were a person wasn't entirely unusual, given how Wren treated their own pet lizard. Shuffling out from under the covers, stifling some little pained sound when its clawed feet hit the floor. Its teeth worried at its lip piercings, tail curling around their own bare thigh as they began trying to find their clothes from the night before. Every move dragged a groan from them.
Before they were able to pull their sweatpants back from the floor, Nolan returned to the room. Leaned against the doorframe with a plate of (admittedly, very deformed) pancakes in his hands. Luna had jumped off the bed and ran off somewhere.
“Oh, you're finally up.” Nolan grinned widely, pushing himself off the door and wandering over to the bed. Kicking trash out of his way. He looked…Softer, like this; hair still messy, his bare torso mottled with bite marks that looked suspiciously like the imprint of Wren's teeth. They hadn't meant to bite him so hard, really. It was just a reflex. Wren's ears tipped backwards, tail coiling tighter against its thigh, tucked under it like a frightened animal.
“Yeah, babe.. Bed got too cold without you.” Wren tried to return to its normal flirty self. Though the act was fragile. Their voice was shaky, and its throat felt tight. They had been just fine a minute ago—so why did everything suddenly feel so suffocating?
God, if only Nolan knew the guilt that clawed at its ribs. How it hated itself for even wanting to have someone touch it gently.
Wren sat back on the bed, now laying in their sweatpants. At least it wasn't naked anymore, even if emotionally they still felt as though they had been stripped completely bare. It took slow bites of the pancakes Nolan had brought them; they were slightly burnt and a little dry. But Wren would never complain about it; they simply appreciated the act of someone making food for them. Nobody else ever did that.
It didn't help that, as they ate, Nolan had scooted behind them. Pressed between its cold body and the pillows. Arms around the demon's waist and his chin on its shoulder—and it wasn't like Wren tried to push Nolan away, no. Its short tail had subconsciously wrapped around his leg, wings tucked tightly against its back so Nolan could lean against them more comfortably.
For once, Wren was almost glad that Nolan couldn't see them. His blindness saved them the embarrassment of being seen so flustered; its face stained a deep lavender, the color spreading all the way to the tips of its ears.
“Why is he being so kind?” Wren thought. hands shaking a little as they reached to grab the cup of juice that sat on the nightstand. “How does he not hate me?”
Many such thoughts consumed its mind. Often. Especially when faced with the vulnerability of being loved.
They sipped at the cold drink, tilting their head back slightly, causing its greasy blue hair to brush over Nolan's face. He giggled, pressed his lips against Wren's shoulder in soft little kisses. Wren froze up—shoulders going tense, a little squeak tumbling from its throat. Maybe it was withdrawal, or its wretched starvation for affection, but Wren suddenly felt very nauseous.
They tried not to squirm away, though. They wanted Nolan to touch them. They never wanted him to stop, really.
“You're so pretty, dude..” Nolan smiled against its shoulder, hands wandering over Wren's torso. Thumbs rubbing over their sharp ribs, touching over the intricate scarring under their chest. Every touch was achingly gentle, to the point it almost felt painful, and his words were even softer.
The compliment nearly made Wren choke on its drink. Even if Nolan couldn't really see Wren—unless he possessed their mind and looked at it through its own eyes—the words were genuine. And Wren knew that.
“I doubt it.. I probably look like shit.” Wren tried to laugh, but all that came out was a small croak. They were trying to joke, even as a very genuine anxiousness crawled up its spine. What if they had accidentally fed off Nolan's soul last night? Did he even understand the risk of having them so close?
Maybe Nolan did know the risks. Maybe he just didn't care. And, frankly, that thought scared Wren.
“Man, who fuckking cares if you look chopped. You're always hot to me.” Nolan murmured against Wren's skin, kissing his way along its shoulder, until his lips met the crook of their neck. The skin there was soft and sickeningly pale, unmarked by the thin scars that were scratched across the rest of their upper body. Wren found itself shaking again, shifting to sit what remained of their breakfast on the nightstand.
Wren finally began to relax against Nolan, instead of sitting with all their muscles coiled like something being hunted. It melted against his chest, hands sitting politely in its lap—though the frantic way their tail began to thump against the bed was a clear giveaway to how flustered it was.
Wren twisted their hands together, picking at their nails, scratching at the semicolon tattoo on its right hand. They still felt itchy and sick, a migraine still gripping its head. It hadn't had its fix in hours.
Though they never reached for the bag they knew was in the nightstand. They didn't even want to move from Nolan's lap.
Wren sat up, huffing out a pathetic groan as the ache returned to its hips. They'd almost forgotten about the pain in their muscles. Everything spun for a second as they turned over onto their stomach, stretching out to rest its face under Nolan's chin, its horns bumping against his jaw. His skin was warm, a very pleasant contrast to Wren's own sticky, cold flesh—flushed light purple from whatever they'd done hours ago. Their tail continued to wag, like an excitable puppy.
To think that the two had stayed up so late. It was probably around 4 A.M. when they stopped. And now, the sun was beginning to rise, yet everything still felt dizzy, and both of them still smelled like each other.
“Sorry for, uh.. Scratchin’ you up like I did.” It croaked.
“Nah, you're chill. It's kinda sexyy.”
Wren—somehow—blushed an even deeper shade of purple. It looped its arms around Nolan's waist, hiding their face against his collarbone, unsure as to why exactly it was hiding. Nolan couldn't see them; they had no reason to hide. Yet, they still did.
They always did.
For a moment, not a single thought filled Wren's head. No whispers of how pathetic it was. No degrading words about how little it deserved someone like Nolan. For once, all was quiet, save for the thump of Nolan's heart beneath its ear.
They breathed slowly, eyes falling shut for a bit. They felt Nolan's arms come around its shoulders, rubbing its back and pressing over old bruises that never healed. His hands were gentle, and they made Wren want to cry again. They always made Wren want to cry.
Wren was not a very emotional creature. Even simple things, like the idea of romantic attraction, slid entirely past it.
But this? Lying in bed with its best friend, getting kissed between the horns after the most grossly gentle sex it'd ever had. That was especially confusing.
Wren let out a small chittering noise, fully melting against Nolan without a single complaint. Usually, Wren felt freezing after sex, even on a full belly. But, in bed with Nolan, it was different. Confusing.
It felt warm. Everything felt warm and fuzzy. It always felt that way with him.
If Wren were something different, they'd be sure they were in love with Nolan. But it couldn't feel love, not like any normal person.
“...You're warm. Like, reallyyy warm.” Wren huffed, rubbing their nose against Nolan’s skin. Sniffing him, wiggling closer as if trying to crawl under his skin. They'd stay there forever, if possible. It wanted to.
Nolan, for once, had nothing to say. He just hummed, threw his arms around Wren's waist and squeezed them. Wren sighed heavily, pressing itself flatter against Nolan's chest. As if trying to mold into his flesh, burrow into his ribs to curl around his heart. It was the most intimate thought they'd ever had about another living being.
After months, if not longer, of feeling empty and frigid—as if a void had been cut through its stomach—they finally felt alive. If only for a moment, Wren didn't want to hurt itself. Didn't want to rip their throat out or scratch at its hips til they bled. Now, they only wanted to melt into the warmth and go back to sleep.
Their need for love was a curse, but for now they felt like they could ignore how much it hurt when anyone who wasn't Nolan touched them.
Wren whined, tucking its face into Nolan's neck. Nose against his pulse as he tugged the thick blankets over them both. Classes could wait. Right now all that mattered was each other.
“I'm sorry..”
“For what? You're not even doin’ anything.”
“Yeah, I know. I just–I don't get why you're so nice to me. That's all, babe.” Wren let out a shaky sigh into Nolan's chest, shoulders trembling like they were about to cry. He shushed them, running his fingers through their hair and scratching behind their horns. His free hand found their arm, to gently rub over old scars.
And Wren just laid there, molded against Nolan’s body like they thought he'd disappear. They never thought about trying to stop him.
In fact, they even started to doze off again. Purring like an oversized cat as Nolan tugged the blankets over them both. With the last words on their minds being the sweet nothings he whispered into its hair.
titsay
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
vaporwave
kaledo-art
izzy806
baratheonpilled
andulkaphoto
