Their eyes flutter, and I watch as they regains consciousness. When their eyes slide up to my face, they widen ever so slightly.

“Why are you in my bed staring at me like a creep?" They ask, their voice groggy with sleep.

I chuckle. "I thought it'd been established that I'm a creep already?"

"It has, and yet you still keep doing it."

"Would you like me to stop?" I query, sliding my hands down their backside.

They suck in a sharp breath, appearing much more awake and alert as I grip their ass in my palms.

"No," they admit quietly. They look so tiny and vulnerable admitting it, so I stay quiet. They trail their finger across the tattoos on my chest, their eyes averted firmly away from mine.

"Do these mean anything?" They murmur, seeming as if they are concentrating hard on the design.

"No,” I answer. "I have them because I like them. I prefer to keep anything of significance as a possession."

Frowning, they peer up at me through their lashes. "Why? I would think your body would be the one place you would have anything meaningful. You carry it around everywhere you go."

I lift a shoulder. "My body is just a vessel that my soul inhabits, attached to a shell that it'll one day leave. And when that day comes, I won't care to let that shell go. I carry my body around because I have to, not because it's a choice. But when I possess something meaningful, I'm choosing to hold on to it. Carrying something meaningful in my skin is effortless but holding onto something that I could lose-that takes devotion."

they drop their eyes back down, seeming to contemplate my words. I curt my finger under their chin, wanting-no needing, their eyes back. They suck the oxygen from my lungs, and I've always loved to toe the line between life and death.

Those pretty eyes fasten on mine, big and round, and all I want to do is consume them.

"I will always possess you, little mouse. So, know that you have all of my devotion to keeping you."