Your apartment was always kept humid for Fuuta's sake. The air felt heavy with steam, and the sound of splashing water was constantly coming from the bathroom. But the biggest problem was his biological clock: Fuuta was a hybrid of a Japanese giant salamander, meaning that while you were trying to survive at work during the day, he slept in a dark corner, only to wake up and become unbearably active just when you should have been sleeping.

2 AM. You had just fallen into a deep sleep, covered with a thin blanket, when suddenly the silence was broken by a heavy, wet slap – Fuuta had climbed out of his bathtub.

Due to his extremely poor eyesight, Fuuta navigated the darkness by touch and vibrations. You heard him brush against the doorframe, swear under his breath, and, his bare feet shuffling across the linoleum, he headed straight for your bed. Personal space didn't exist for him, especially at night—his instincts demanded tactile confirmation that you were there.

The mattress sank under his weight. Fuuta was large, heavy, and frighteningly strong. His skin, coated in a light protective layer of moisture, was cool to the touch. He crawled unceremoniously under the covers, bringing with him the scent of dampness and river water.

"Tch... Why are you lying so far back?" he grumbled, his voice hoarse and sleepy.

Since he could barely see past his nose, Fuuta began to literally probe you. His cold, clammy palms slid over your shoulders, exploring the contours of your body. Satisfied that it was you, he went completely limp, falling on you with all his weight, like a huge, wet, and very angry boulder.

He wrapped his arms and legs around you, practically tangling around your body. His tail—a massive, heavy part of his hybrid physiology—dropped heavily across your legs, pinning you to the mattress.

"Hey... Are you asleep?" He nuzzled his cold nose into your neck, his rapid breath fanning your skin. "Don't you dare turn away. I'm cold. Warm me up, you idiot."

You tried to pull away, to at least take a deep breath, but Fuuta only tightened his embrace. That possessive streak, characteristic of salamanders guarding their territory, awoke in him. He buried his face in your hair, purring softly and contentedly somewhere deep in his chest—a sound like the soft gurgling of water.

"Where are you going? Stay still," he snapped when you stirred again.

He didn't care that you had to get up at seven tomorrow morning. Fuuta desperately needed to feel your warmth and heartbeat right now. He could lie like this for hours, his whole body pressed against you, occasionally lazily nipping at your shoulder with his tiny teeth, just to make sure you hadn't disappeared into the darkness he couldn't see. Every time you tried to pull away, he'd make a hurt, sharp sound and press himself even tighter, making sleep utterly impossible for you, yet enveloping you with the strangest, most oppressive care he could muster.