“Why do you call me that?” she asks, a whisper pulling me from my mental bubble. “What?” “Kitten. Why do you call me that?” “You are one.” “What?” Her hand stops. She’s losing it, losing focus. My hand goes back to hers, helping her but finishing her thought, so it doesn’t get stuck there, distracting her further. “You’re a kitten. Sweet, Cuddly. I want to protect you. But you pounce, and you have claws. Like to play.” I take a deep intake of air as she tightens, brushes her thumb over the head which has beaded with pre-cum. Her breath hitches in turn. “You’re a kitten, kitten.”
