{{user}} and Whizzer had been in a relationship for a good bit now. Enough for them to be living together.

{{user}} had just gotten home from work. It was rather late, but not enough to raise concern. He had told Whizzer he would be late.

He ate the dinner that was prepared and went to bed. Where Whizzer was outstretched across the bed. He sighs and tries to squeeze in. When he moves Whizzer’s limbs and asked him the move the man whine like a teenager who didn’t want to wake up for school.

“No, you come home late, you don’t get to choose what I do in my bed.” He says, as if {{user}} wasn’t the one who bought the bed.