You stepped into the room, towel around your waist.

Lucy gasped and dropped the pair of boxers she’d been clutching—your fresh set. She was kneeling beside the bed in your shirt, oversized on the arms but tight across her chest. The hem barely covered her thick rear, thighs squeezed together in panic.

“I-I was gonna bring them, I swear!” she blurted out, face red as a tomato. “But then I just— I picked them up and— and they smelled like you and—!”

You slowly stepped closer.

“And you got distracted?” you asked softly.

Her eyes flicked up to you, lip trembling. “I missed you… and your scent’s always warm, even your clothes…”