i know the others can but can mutt recite the periodic table while we bonin
You wrap your arms tighter around Mutt, clinging to his body, trying to get even closer -- if that was even possible at this point. You can feel his fangs skimming the side of your neck as nibbles your skin, the sharp edges drawing a gasp past your lips.
Your hands shift to his head and you pull him back, wanting to kiss him, to feel those fangs pressed against your lips and that electric tongue undulating against yours, but ---
His eyesockets are lidded, and his mouth is moving, silently forming words.
Your movements slow, and your gaze narrows as you attempt to make out the words. Experimentally, you roll your hips, and his breath hitches.
His voice is thick, barely above a whisper.
“copper.”
.... What the --
“zinc, gallium--”
You push his shoulders, forcing him to open his eyes. “Is that the fucking periodic table?”
“sorry, darlin’.” His smirk is anything but apologetic. “i hear humans think of baseball or grandmas or somethin’, but not me.”
Your mind is whirling. You’re still trying to get over the fact that he was reciting the period table during sexy times.
“Does that mean you’re close or what?”
He shrugs, and there’s another roll of his hips that has you gasping this time.
“take it as a compliment. it just meant i didn’t want this to end.”
