"Don't get too excited," Charlie warned him, tapping his nose. "I'm not shoving Noah away just to have you take his place. That's not fair. But, every once in a while, I can suggest he hang out at the library or the arcade. Somewhere... else." Her voice dripped with suggestion, and she pressed closer again to slide her forehead away from Royce's, down just a tad, so she could kiss him again.
She would never, ever, ever get used to this. Kissing Royce would always be as wonderful and magical as it was the first time she quickly pressed her lips against his.
"Because," she continued a little breathlessly, "I think I may have become the slightest bit addicted to this. Having you here. With me. Just us. No one else." Her hands were moving as she spoke, exploring. They pulled away from his shoulders, down his collarbone along his chest and abs. She was fascinated at the play of soft and hard on his body: the hard muscle beneath her fingers in contrast to the soft lips on his face. The planes and hard angles next to the curves and sweeps of bone and flesh. In the back of her head, she was cataloging it all, comparing what she felt with what she had seen in her anatomy books. Humans and animals were clearly different in size, shape and functions... and yet there were some similarities.
Most animals have shoulder blades that point forward at a right angle to their collar bone. Humans don't. Their shoulders are flat on one side of the rib cage while the collar bone is on the other. Charlie's fingers explored the small compression at the juncture of Royce's collar bone, the small space at the base of his throat. From there went the breast bone, ending just above the abs, were the expanding sides of the rib cage cast bumps and ridges across his obliques and sides. The stomach muscles were not pulled by gravity into a small sphere beneath his pelvis, like in most mammals. His was taught and smooth, expanding and contracting with his breath.
Good grief, Doyle. You're feeling up your boyfriend like some kind of pervert! But there was no shame or embarrassment (for once), just curiosity and fascination. Royce trembled a little beneath her hands, and for a split second, Charlie felt this perverse sense of power. Royce was bigger, stronger, and faster than her, more powerful in every physical way imaginable. She had watched him lift and carry things around the clinic- every single one of these muscles bore testimony to the strength Royce possessed. And yet here he was, shivering beneath her, and she realized the hold she had over him.
It was a little... disturbing, to be honest. Like she could control him, if she wanted to. The same way her mother-
As if on cue, Charlie's stomach grumbled between them, and her head fell to Royce's chest with gusting laughter. "Serves me right for trying to molest you before lunch. Come on." She spun around, holding his folded arms at her stomach without letting them go, and propelling them both forward to head back toward the kitchen.