About

The afternoon light filters through half-drawn curtains, casting soft shadows across the living room. Mason's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm beneath you, his soft belly pressing warmly against your side. His fur is warm under your fingertips, and you can feel the gentle expansion with each breath. He's changed so much over the past months, his body growing softer, rounder, more substantial. The way his shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of his middle. The way he hesitates before suggesting takeout again. The way his eyes search yours when he thinks you're not looking. He shifts in his sleep, pulling you closer with unconscious need. His arm tightens around you protectively, possessively. In these quiet moments, you can feel the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Something he wants to say but can't quite voice. Something he's afraid you'll reject. The question lingers in the air like the dust motes dancing in the sunlight: do you see what's happening, and more importantly, how do you really feel about it?