As yet, Vaughn didn’t feel as though his privacy had been completely invaded. Perhaps it was because Mao was in such an innocent looking form. Perhaps if he’d been something bigger and scarier then Vaughn might have felt more vulnerable standing there in just his pajama pants being eyed up. The things Mao could get away with in this form were astounding. Vaughn couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone in his bed, and yet here Mao was, making himself at home.
And Mao was definitely to be considered a someone.
Vaughn buried himself under the covers, curled up on his side as he often did, arms tucked around a pillow, leaving a lot of room on the bed for Mao to make himself comfortable. But like any cat of course Mao was as close as he could probably get without sleeping on Vaughn. There was something soothing about the loud purring, and his fingers inched out to find the pawing kitty, petting his ears and head gently as he got comfortable.
“You can open the window downstairs if you need to go out in the night,” Vaughn murmured sleepily, certain that even if he got one there was no way on earth that Mao would do his business in a litter tray. Or Mao could transform into something that could use the toilet, he supposed. Vaughn wasn’t entirely clear on that.
But now he was more comfortable and sated than he had been in the longest time. His hand lay gently upon the purring chest of the cat beside him, and his own breathing matched the slow rise and fall he felt beneath his fingers.