Amalgamation

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Hey! Suga! Have you seen my red flannel shirt?" I yell from my bedroom. My door is pretty much eternally cracked since I can't trust the two hybrids within my home to get along.

Already I've had five items turn up missing this week alone. And strangely enough they are all articles of clothing.

"Negative!" Yells Suga from his own room, voice alarmingly strained.

I'd intentionally placed him on the other side of the house due to some increasingly odd behaviour.  His obsession with my scent has reached an all new height, turning something that might once have been a minor annoyance into a serious problem.

Just like their animal counterpart, most hybrids tend to have certain characteristics. Cat hybrids are almost always moody, for instance. Dog hybrids are almost always loyal to a fault. And bird hybrids are some of the flightiest people you'll ever meet. Rabbit hybrids tend to have a larger difference between the men and women, with the women being very submissive and the men tempermental.

And yet all hybrids have a certain thing for smell.

As I have recently discovered, this translates to Suga effectively rubbing his body against my own in an effort to, well, mark me. Unfortunately Suga is not a relatively small ball of fur, and of course he can't be cute about it.

No.

Thanks to Suga's humanity it essentially boils down to sexual tension.

And although Suga has always been somewhat possesive, it's never reached a point in which he's attempted to force me to sit in his lap. At least, not until recently. And God forbid I should have to speak to anyone with a penis. He's held me prisoner against his chest more times than I truly care to count.

Though I must say that his chest is surprisingly solid.

"Shirt!" I remember suddenly. "I was looking for my shirt!"

I march from my room with iron clad intent. I will find my favorite shirt, so help me God. My first instinct is to check the laundry. Maybe I'd put it in the wash and forgot about it.

But after searching what little remains in the basket I am still empty handed.

I check the bathroom too, and the closet. The living room, and even the guest rooms, all to no avail. On my way out of one such room I run into Kookie, who is sullenly pacing to and fro. The poor guy must be bored out of hit wits.

"You okay Kooks? Something on your mind?" I ask kindly.

He looks up at me with dull eyes, all large and innocent. He looks almost shocked to see me, but a tiny smile begins to creep its way onto his face as he looks at me. I could swear that I watch the light come back into his eyes.

"I'm bored, " he pouts cutely "and you've been moody."

He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the term. Clearly I must have made poor Kookie feel uneasy, and that breaks my heart.

I want to cry when he flinches from my touch, startled by the arm that reaches out to offer a soothing touch.

"It's probably best not to touch me right now, " he groans painfully.

"Nonsense!" I exclaim, grabbing his hand anyways, despite his feeble protests. "Why don't we do something fun tonight? Movie? Board games? What do you want to do?"

"Can we watch Infinity War?" Kookie asks excitedly.

His eyes no longer look dull and lifeless, rather they are shining with absolute glee and adoration. How could I ever say no to that face? Even if we have watched the movie fifty times already.

"Of course, " I tell him, smiling jovially. "Just let me find my shirt and I'll get everything set up! By the way, you haven't seen my red flannel shirt by any chance have you?"

Kookie bites his lip, almost as if he's debating whether or not he should say anything. I can't say that his reaction doesn't make me nervous.

"I saw Suga take it the other day, " he finally says, body language excluding discomfort. I don't think I'm gonna get anymore than that out of him, so asking him why Suga took my shirt is likely a pointless endeavor.

"Thanks Kooks, go ahead to the living room. I'll be there shortly." I tell him.

As Kookie walks away I turn towards Suga's bedroom. I steel myself for the confrontation to come, and march. I'm tempted to barge into his room, guns blazing, and demand my shirt back. I'm also peeved that he likely lied to me.

But there are sounds coming from his room that give me pause. At first I think he must be in pain, due in no small part to all of the grunting. But as I listen closer I realize that it doesn't sound a whole lot like pain.

I open the door, fully intent on giving him a stern talking to. But I am left flabbergasted, and wishing I'd never opened it at all.

He is sprawled out on his bed, cock in hand, and hand wrapped up in my favorite pair of undies. A veritable pile of my clothing lays all around, scattered here and there. So his grunts had indeed not been pain at all.

I mean to walk away. I truly, truly do. But the way he's pumping into his own hand, lips parted and eyes closed, is just too mesmerizing. He hasn't even noticed me yet, he's obviously lost to whatever it is that he is masturbating to.

My inability to look away proves to be my undoing. The sight before me causes me to whimper, a noise I wasn't even aware I was capable of making. Of course, just as I whimper Suga himself finds release. The startling part is in the fact that he calls my name as he cums.

Not startling because I didn't know he was interested, but because I wasn't aware my name could sound so sexy.

He notices my prescence at this point, and doesn't even have the decency to look as embarrassed as I feel.

"Did you enjoy watching me touch myself?" He asks me huskily. "Huh Hazel?"