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Rejection is awful. Repeated rejection wears on the soul. You begin to doubt yourself, blame aspects of your being for others not caring about you the way every loving person deserves. Wouldn't it be nice, then, to be given a helping hand?
Genuine Warmth
(All characters in this story are 18+ and above the age of consent)
“I’ll wait until I’ve finished my coffee, and after that, I’ll leave.” Rowan told himself for the third time. The dregs of his Blue Mountain swirled about in the bottom of his mug, its rich tones having long dissipated along with its heat. It would be one thing to be stood up, a disappointment that too many people have to go through. But it was another to be stood up for the fifth time in a month.
Rowan sank in his chair, setting the mug down rather indelicately with a loud clack of porcelain. Pulling out his phone, he swiped off that damned dating app, pressing the all too enticing icon on his home screen until it began to shake. “Do you want to delete this app? You better believe I do.” He muttered to himself, feeling the smallest spark of relief once it vanished from sight before his misery swept right back in. His head was soon cradled in his hands, fingertips making a point of avoiding the large scar that trailed all the way from the bridge of his nose to his cheek.
“It’s not the scar.” He whispered to himself, refusing that part of himself that always came back no matter how much he tried. “It’s not the scar. It’s not the scar. I-it’s no--… It’s not…”
“I don’t mean to intrude.” A soothing voice called from above Rowan. He shot up, desperate to not look desperate, and doing a rather poor job of that.
“N-no intruding!” Rowan stammered, his cheeks going flush from a lethal combination of embarrassment and shame. “No I mean, you’re not intruding! You’re--I’m sorry. Do you have the check?”
The barista looked down at him with an all too familiar look of pity. “I wish I could say you were the first, but I know when I’ve seen someone stood up.” He sighed, brushing a few scraggly locks from in front of his glasses. “Don’t worry man, I got you covered. Everything’s been paid for.”
Rowan couldn’t tell if his embarrassment was deepening or ebbing away. Maybe it was just transforming from self to external, but he’d be remiss if he didn’t at least put up some polite protest. Before he could open his mouth though, the barista slid an espresso shot onto the table in front of him. His nametag caught the light as he leaned back, the name “Ryder” burning a little streak into Rowan’s vision.
“And a little bit of something from me.” Ryder said, a sudden shyness to his voice. “You don’t gotta drink it but… I dunno, some people say my special blend’s got a bit of a lucky charm to it. A lot of friends of mine have started seeing some really good people after drinking it so I tried to make it for strangers and it worked for them and… I’m rambling. Sorry, you’re free to drink it if you want, if not, I hope things get better. I mean, I hope things get better either way but--sorry again, I’ll leave you be.”
The barista turned heel and dashed back to the counter, leaving Rowan feeling several kinds of unsure what to do with himself. Pity never made anyone feel good, but he could still feel the guy’s genuine attempts at making him feel better coming through. He found his hand clasped around the little cup before he realized what he was doing, its pleasant heat sinking into his palm. It looked like a shot of espresso, alright. Dark brown, a delightful topping of thick foam, an aroma that even non coffee drinkers swooned over. Even if it wasn’t some kind of magical lucky tincture, it’d still be worth downing for the quality he could feel just looking at it.
It passed his lips and down his throat in one smooth motion, an absolute delight from start to finish. That Ryder clearly knew his stuff. It warmed Rowan’s belly in ways his previous coffees didn’t, making him feel just a little lighter, the blues just a touch easier to brush away. It surely couldn’t be actual magic, merely some subconscious acceptance of a stranger’s kindness lifting his mood. Either way Rowan was grateful, taking his heavy jacket off the back of his chair and heading off into the freezing city streets.
He was back at his apartment before he knew it, hardly taking note of the cold. Odd, considering he’d grown up down south with no real harsh winters to speak of. Every time it dipped below fifty his coworkers would mock him for bundling up. His warmth persisted even as he stripped bare, striding through his apartment like he was putting on his own fashion show.
He felt… good. His wiry farmboy build actually looked appealing to him for once. His scraggly blonde hair didn’t look mismanaged and unkempt, but rather boyish and tousled. His scar… best not to ruin this feeling of self worth for once. Maybe all he needed was someone to toss a bit of kindness his way. For the first time in who knows how long Rowan slid into his sheets with a smile, and sleep claimed him within moments.
‘Oh lordy, that was a wonderful sleep’ Rowan thought to himself, his body slowly stirring along with his mind. He actually felt so good he gave himself a massive morning stretch, his arms reaching so far up they thunked into the walls as his toes spread and shivered along with his legs. His maw let out the sleepiest of yawns, his barbed tongue curling into a little spoon just before the little mewl escaped like it always did. Behind him, the wonderful feeling of his tail pressing up against something warm, something living, filled his entire body with a sense of fulfilment he’d wanted all his life.
Rowan froze. There were several things wrong with this wonderful moment. The first he noted were he neither had a tail, nor was capable of sweet mewling. The second and perhaps more pressing was that he was entirely certain he went to bed alone last night. He rocketed out of bed so quickly he may as well have left a cartoon cloud puff, skidding on the loose rug he had by his bed and colliding with the wall. The stranger popped up at the noise, looking more like a tornado of fur and sleep than a real living being.
“Wuzzat? You ‘k kitten?” The apparently lion man yawned, his mane so poofed out it stifled his voice somewhat. Rowan stared at the alien creature for several moments, unable to reconcile what he was seeing. Nothing like this existed anywhere but in animated movies for kids… But there was something glaringly different about this man from those old cartoons Rowan grew up on.
This lion was unbearably, incontestably, hot as hell. Built without being shredded, a dangerous blend of attractive while still being so cute Rowan felt a burning need to kiss every inch of his muzzle. There was an affection building up within him where fear should be, and for the life of him Rowan couldn’t begin to muster up any sort of negative emotion about this moment. Not even as his eyes unfocused, noticing for the first time the yellow muzzle clouding part of his vision. He clapped his hands over it, seeing the spotted appendages for the first time.
“What is--what?! What am--Who’re--whuh?” Rowan stammered, confusion coursing through him as he stood to look at himself. Every inch of him was covered in yellow fur and brown spots, coating him in the same warmth he felt last night. Behind him, an entirely new limb in the form of a tail swayed about, counterbalancing any move he made on his new unfamiliar legs. It felt like he was standing on the balls of his feet, and yet at the same time he knew how to move them like they’d been there all his life.
He darted over to the bathroom, catching himself in the mirror with a sharp gasp. What in the world had he become? Some kind of… cheetah man? How? Why? Why was that other man here with him? Why the hell wasn’t he panicking?.. And why the hell did he still have that fucking scar?
“You’re making me a bit uneasy, Cheerio.” The lion man had wandered into the bathroom after him, a look of genuine concern upon his sweet face. “Did you have the combine dream again? If you did, don’t worry, I’m here.”
Rowan found himself wrapped up in an embrace so all encompassing he began to purr. The reaction was entirely involuntary and completely welcome. The vibrations calmed him in ways new and familiar, and the way it was making the lion relax was an added bonus.
“Sorry, you know ‘m bad first in the morning. Words don’t come out so good until coffee.” Wren said, his words still half mumbled. He might not have been an entirely functioning person yet, but his genuine concern and warmth were more than coming through.
… Wait, how did he know his name was Wren? Rowan was a moment away from asking, but the inhale to ask the question brought with it a flood of emotion into his chest. He hadn’t realized just how deep in the lion’s mane he’d been, nor could he have known the tidal wave of emotion the lion’s scent would bring him. Half a lifetime of emotions washed through Rowan in an instant, the bright tones and earthy notes of Wren’s essence pulling something from deep within the cheetah. He knew this scent. Knew this embrace. Arms tentatively wound around his boyfriend, careful not to dig his claws into the larger man’s pelt.
“I’m… I’m feeling all out of sorts.” Rowan mumbled into Wren’s mane. “I feel like I woke up on the wrong side of reality, like… You aren’t supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be alone and miserable and stood up and--”
“Oh it’s thaaaaaaaaat dream.” Wren chuckled, slowly unwrapping himself from Rowan. His large hands cupped either side of Rowan’s face, thumbs tracing down his brow and caressing around his cheeks. His right thumb trailed perfectly down Rowan’s scar, making him shudder. “You’re here. You’re with me. You’re perfect. And I love you with all my heart.”
Then, something Rowan hadn’t felt in his entire adult life. The lips of someone who genuinely cared for him against his, and the surge of warmth and love and longing that came along with it. Tears welled up in his eyes, quickly spilling out as he entangled himself with the lion.
All at once his entire sense of self began to shift. Memories flooding in of his life growing up in this body. Bolting around the farm with his little sisters, being told to stop grooming himself in class, that night he and his older brother snuck out to the tool shed to drive the cool new combine…
Moving to the city to help the family out, having to bundle up even with his fur, meeting Wren the first day he’d gone out to the nearest coffee shop. Walking home together, that first wonderful night in his arms, the year that had passed with neither of them able to believe they’d just happened to meet like that. Wren was so kind and caring, the most gentle giant there ever was. He was everything Rowan had ever wanted in a partner and more, and every day since they met he’d wondered what he’d done to deserve someone so perfect.
Rowan was still entirely aware of whatever past life he had, but it was like remembering a terrible family vacation from an age and a half ago. It was there, always reminding him of exactly how much he needed this, nudging him to appreciate the true happiness he had in Wren’s embrace.
“You wanna stay home today, kitty?” Wren whispered down to him, looking like he was fighting back tears of his own. “You’ve gotta use your vacation days anyway… and I want to spend all day looking at just how handsome you are.”
Rowan couldn’t even reply properly, instead throwing himself into Wren’s mane once more and letting his plush fur soak in every last drop of joy that was leaking out.
It had been a while since they’d been to Genuine Warmth, which was an outright shame. Not only was it where they met, but it had the best coffee in the city. Rowan and Wren went out of their way to hold each other’s hand across the table, knowing full well they were being -that- couple, and loving every second of it.
“Oh hey it’s the lovecats!” A familiar voice called out to them. The couple turned, seeing a scruffy looking husky in a brown apron. The nametag said ‘Ryder’, and still was so polished it left little streaks in Rowan’s vision as the light caught it wrong. “I guess my lucky espresso shot did the trick, yea? I mean, I know it’s been like a year, but--”
“Oh, I know what you mean.” Rowan and Wren said in tandem. Both of them looked at each other in surprise, an hours-long conversation taking place between them in moments without a word being spoken.
“Let’s just say I know how to bring together lonely hearts.” Ryder shrugged, his tail wagging up such a storm he very nearly knocked his poor coworker doe behind him on the floor. “Just invite me to the wedding and we’ll be all square.”
“Absolutely!” The couple said at the same time, again. And once more they were both looking at each other in shock.
“You… you want to…” Rowan gasped, suddenly unable to feel the chair beneath him from the floating sensation that pervaded every inch of his being.
“We--um--you’re…” Wren stammered, his blush almost shining through his thick fur. “We can… I’ll… Oh darn it I was going to wait for the little cheesecakes but I can’t stand it any longer.”
Rowan watched the scene like it was happening to someone else. Someone more deserving of such a perfect, wonderful moment. But the little box was on the table. It was aimed towards him. It was opening. There was a perfect platinum band in it. And it was for him.
“Rowan, you’re the perf--”
“Yes.”
“O-oh my god.”
“Wren yes. Please. Let me marry you.”
“No-you’re supposed to say ‘I will marry you’!” Wren laughed, his cheek fur already damp.
“You’re so perfect I need to be allowed to marry you!” Rowan laughed back, his fight to keep back genuine sobs quickly lost.
There was applause from around the cafe as Rowan darted around the table to hug his love. Putting on the ring could wait. All he needed in life was right here. A place in Wren’s arms. To feel his warmth. And there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t be grateful for this wonderful man’s presence for the rest of his life.
Posted using PostyBirb
Genuine Warmth
(All characters in this story are 18+ and above the age of consent)
“I’ll wait until I’ve finished my coffee, and after that, I’ll leave.” Rowan told himself for the third time. The dregs of his Blue Mountain swirled about in the bottom of his mug, its rich tones having long dissipated along with its heat. It would be one thing to be stood up, a disappointment that too many people have to go through. But it was another to be stood up for the fifth time in a month.
Rowan sank in his chair, setting the mug down rather indelicately with a loud clack of porcelain. Pulling out his phone, he swiped off that damned dating app, pressing the all too enticing icon on his home screen until it began to shake. “Do you want to delete this app? You better believe I do.” He muttered to himself, feeling the smallest spark of relief once it vanished from sight before his misery swept right back in. His head was soon cradled in his hands, fingertips making a point of avoiding the large scar that trailed all the way from the bridge of his nose to his cheek.
“It’s not the scar.” He whispered to himself, refusing that part of himself that always came back no matter how much he tried. “It’s not the scar. It’s not the scar. I-it’s no--… It’s not…”
“I don’t mean to intrude.” A soothing voice called from above Rowan. He shot up, desperate to not look desperate, and doing a rather poor job of that.
“N-no intruding!” Rowan stammered, his cheeks going flush from a lethal combination of embarrassment and shame. “No I mean, you’re not intruding! You’re--I’m sorry. Do you have the check?”
The barista looked down at him with an all too familiar look of pity. “I wish I could say you were the first, but I know when I’ve seen someone stood up.” He sighed, brushing a few scraggly locks from in front of his glasses. “Don’t worry man, I got you covered. Everything’s been paid for.”
Rowan couldn’t tell if his embarrassment was deepening or ebbing away. Maybe it was just transforming from self to external, but he’d be remiss if he didn’t at least put up some polite protest. Before he could open his mouth though, the barista slid an espresso shot onto the table in front of him. His nametag caught the light as he leaned back, the name “Ryder” burning a little streak into Rowan’s vision.
“And a little bit of something from me.” Ryder said, a sudden shyness to his voice. “You don’t gotta drink it but… I dunno, some people say my special blend’s got a bit of a lucky charm to it. A lot of friends of mine have started seeing some really good people after drinking it so I tried to make it for strangers and it worked for them and… I’m rambling. Sorry, you’re free to drink it if you want, if not, I hope things get better. I mean, I hope things get better either way but--sorry again, I’ll leave you be.”
The barista turned heel and dashed back to the counter, leaving Rowan feeling several kinds of unsure what to do with himself. Pity never made anyone feel good, but he could still feel the guy’s genuine attempts at making him feel better coming through. He found his hand clasped around the little cup before he realized what he was doing, its pleasant heat sinking into his palm. It looked like a shot of espresso, alright. Dark brown, a delightful topping of thick foam, an aroma that even non coffee drinkers swooned over. Even if it wasn’t some kind of magical lucky tincture, it’d still be worth downing for the quality he could feel just looking at it.
It passed his lips and down his throat in one smooth motion, an absolute delight from start to finish. That Ryder clearly knew his stuff. It warmed Rowan’s belly in ways his previous coffees didn’t, making him feel just a little lighter, the blues just a touch easier to brush away. It surely couldn’t be actual magic, merely some subconscious acceptance of a stranger’s kindness lifting his mood. Either way Rowan was grateful, taking his heavy jacket off the back of his chair and heading off into the freezing city streets.
He was back at his apartment before he knew it, hardly taking note of the cold. Odd, considering he’d grown up down south with no real harsh winters to speak of. Every time it dipped below fifty his coworkers would mock him for bundling up. His warmth persisted even as he stripped bare, striding through his apartment like he was putting on his own fashion show.
He felt… good. His wiry farmboy build actually looked appealing to him for once. His scraggly blonde hair didn’t look mismanaged and unkempt, but rather boyish and tousled. His scar… best not to ruin this feeling of self worth for once. Maybe all he needed was someone to toss a bit of kindness his way. For the first time in who knows how long Rowan slid into his sheets with a smile, and sleep claimed him within moments.
‘Oh lordy, that was a wonderful sleep’ Rowan thought to himself, his body slowly stirring along with his mind. He actually felt so good he gave himself a massive morning stretch, his arms reaching so far up they thunked into the walls as his toes spread and shivered along with his legs. His maw let out the sleepiest of yawns, his barbed tongue curling into a little spoon just before the little mewl escaped like it always did. Behind him, the wonderful feeling of his tail pressing up against something warm, something living, filled his entire body with a sense of fulfilment he’d wanted all his life.
Rowan froze. There were several things wrong with this wonderful moment. The first he noted were he neither had a tail, nor was capable of sweet mewling. The second and perhaps more pressing was that he was entirely certain he went to bed alone last night. He rocketed out of bed so quickly he may as well have left a cartoon cloud puff, skidding on the loose rug he had by his bed and colliding with the wall. The stranger popped up at the noise, looking more like a tornado of fur and sleep than a real living being.
“Wuzzat? You ‘k kitten?” The apparently lion man yawned, his mane so poofed out it stifled his voice somewhat. Rowan stared at the alien creature for several moments, unable to reconcile what he was seeing. Nothing like this existed anywhere but in animated movies for kids… But there was something glaringly different about this man from those old cartoons Rowan grew up on.
This lion was unbearably, incontestably, hot as hell. Built without being shredded, a dangerous blend of attractive while still being so cute Rowan felt a burning need to kiss every inch of his muzzle. There was an affection building up within him where fear should be, and for the life of him Rowan couldn’t begin to muster up any sort of negative emotion about this moment. Not even as his eyes unfocused, noticing for the first time the yellow muzzle clouding part of his vision. He clapped his hands over it, seeing the spotted appendages for the first time.
“What is--what?! What am--Who’re--whuh?” Rowan stammered, confusion coursing through him as he stood to look at himself. Every inch of him was covered in yellow fur and brown spots, coating him in the same warmth he felt last night. Behind him, an entirely new limb in the form of a tail swayed about, counterbalancing any move he made on his new unfamiliar legs. It felt like he was standing on the balls of his feet, and yet at the same time he knew how to move them like they’d been there all his life.
He darted over to the bathroom, catching himself in the mirror with a sharp gasp. What in the world had he become? Some kind of… cheetah man? How? Why? Why was that other man here with him? Why the hell wasn’t he panicking?.. And why the hell did he still have that fucking scar?
“You’re making me a bit uneasy, Cheerio.” The lion man had wandered into the bathroom after him, a look of genuine concern upon his sweet face. “Did you have the combine dream again? If you did, don’t worry, I’m here.”
Rowan found himself wrapped up in an embrace so all encompassing he began to purr. The reaction was entirely involuntary and completely welcome. The vibrations calmed him in ways new and familiar, and the way it was making the lion relax was an added bonus.
“Sorry, you know ‘m bad first in the morning. Words don’t come out so good until coffee.” Wren said, his words still half mumbled. He might not have been an entirely functioning person yet, but his genuine concern and warmth were more than coming through.
… Wait, how did he know his name was Wren? Rowan was a moment away from asking, but the inhale to ask the question brought with it a flood of emotion into his chest. He hadn’t realized just how deep in the lion’s mane he’d been, nor could he have known the tidal wave of emotion the lion’s scent would bring him. Half a lifetime of emotions washed through Rowan in an instant, the bright tones and earthy notes of Wren’s essence pulling something from deep within the cheetah. He knew this scent. Knew this embrace. Arms tentatively wound around his boyfriend, careful not to dig his claws into the larger man’s pelt.
“I’m… I’m feeling all out of sorts.” Rowan mumbled into Wren’s mane. “I feel like I woke up on the wrong side of reality, like… You aren’t supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be alone and miserable and stood up and--”
“Oh it’s thaaaaaaaaat dream.” Wren chuckled, slowly unwrapping himself from Rowan. His large hands cupped either side of Rowan’s face, thumbs tracing down his brow and caressing around his cheeks. His right thumb trailed perfectly down Rowan’s scar, making him shudder. “You’re here. You’re with me. You’re perfect. And I love you with all my heart.”
Then, something Rowan hadn’t felt in his entire adult life. The lips of someone who genuinely cared for him against his, and the surge of warmth and love and longing that came along with it. Tears welled up in his eyes, quickly spilling out as he entangled himself with the lion.
All at once his entire sense of self began to shift. Memories flooding in of his life growing up in this body. Bolting around the farm with his little sisters, being told to stop grooming himself in class, that night he and his older brother snuck out to the tool shed to drive the cool new combine…
Moving to the city to help the family out, having to bundle up even with his fur, meeting Wren the first day he’d gone out to the nearest coffee shop. Walking home together, that first wonderful night in his arms, the year that had passed with neither of them able to believe they’d just happened to meet like that. Wren was so kind and caring, the most gentle giant there ever was. He was everything Rowan had ever wanted in a partner and more, and every day since they met he’d wondered what he’d done to deserve someone so perfect.
Rowan was still entirely aware of whatever past life he had, but it was like remembering a terrible family vacation from an age and a half ago. It was there, always reminding him of exactly how much he needed this, nudging him to appreciate the true happiness he had in Wren’s embrace.
“You wanna stay home today, kitty?” Wren whispered down to him, looking like he was fighting back tears of his own. “You’ve gotta use your vacation days anyway… and I want to spend all day looking at just how handsome you are.”
Rowan couldn’t even reply properly, instead throwing himself into Wren’s mane once more and letting his plush fur soak in every last drop of joy that was leaking out.
It had been a while since they’d been to Genuine Warmth, which was an outright shame. Not only was it where they met, but it had the best coffee in the city. Rowan and Wren went out of their way to hold each other’s hand across the table, knowing full well they were being -that- couple, and loving every second of it.
“Oh hey it’s the lovecats!” A familiar voice called out to them. The couple turned, seeing a scruffy looking husky in a brown apron. The nametag said ‘Ryder’, and still was so polished it left little streaks in Rowan’s vision as the light caught it wrong. “I guess my lucky espresso shot did the trick, yea? I mean, I know it’s been like a year, but--”
“Oh, I know what you mean.” Rowan and Wren said in tandem. Both of them looked at each other in surprise, an hours-long conversation taking place between them in moments without a word being spoken.
“Let’s just say I know how to bring together lonely hearts.” Ryder shrugged, his tail wagging up such a storm he very nearly knocked his poor coworker doe behind him on the floor. “Just invite me to the wedding and we’ll be all square.”
“Absolutely!” The couple said at the same time, again. And once more they were both looking at each other in shock.
“You… you want to…” Rowan gasped, suddenly unable to feel the chair beneath him from the floating sensation that pervaded every inch of his being.
“We--um--you’re…” Wren stammered, his blush almost shining through his thick fur. “We can… I’ll… Oh darn it I was going to wait for the little cheesecakes but I can’t stand it any longer.”
Rowan watched the scene like it was happening to someone else. Someone more deserving of such a perfect, wonderful moment. But the little box was on the table. It was aimed towards him. It was opening. There was a perfect platinum band in it. And it was for him.
“Rowan, you’re the perf--”
“Yes.”
“O-oh my god.”
“Wren yes. Please. Let me marry you.”
“No-you’re supposed to say ‘I will marry you’!” Wren laughed, his cheek fur already damp.
“You’re so perfect I need to be allowed to marry you!” Rowan laughed back, his fight to keep back genuine sobs quickly lost.
There was applause from around the cafe as Rowan darted around the table to hug his love. Putting on the ring could wait. All he needed in life was right here. A place in Wren’s arms. To feel his warmth. And there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t be grateful for this wonderful man’s presence for the rest of his life.
Posted using PostyBirb
Category Story / All
Species Feline (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 118.5 kB
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