I know I should be pushing him back, gently, trying to convince him that I am not his partner for the rut, and slip out of the room and maybe run away and hide until he gets better or until he gets back to his normal self. I can pretend that none of this happened in the future, but I cannot seem to find myself wrenching out of his stronghold.
His lips move insistently against mine and I kiss him back eagerly. My fists grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him close instead of doing the opposite. Despite holding the pill bottle, a reminder of what I’d arrived here for, I don’t let go. He nips my lower lips spitefully I guess and I feel my heart skip a beat and grow wetter. His fingers remain loosely around my nape but the slight hint of his claws make me shiver.
I can’t shrink away or do a
