He woke up to the smell of coffee and oatmeal, and was instantly washed with excitement and guilt. Finally, fucking Monday. Farrow turned over to an empty mattress. Patty was already well up, then. She’d been getting up pretty early recently. Earlier than him. She didn’t used to. Well, they were closing in on middle age, if they weren’t there already. Internal clocks were bound to shift. 

He pushed his feet onto the floor and blinked his eyes clear. Back when they snagged those LEDs, they had opted out of putting them in the bedrooms, so his vision was only lit by the light pouring in from the cracks in the wall. On top of the scents of human breakfast outside, he could smell the dust and wood of the old house, cut up into apartments for the modern era. Less so than usual, though. Patty had gone on an absolute cleaning rampage over the weekend. Miracle worker. Absolute angel.

The thought hit him like a fall from the kitchen counter: Farrow was the fucking worst.

But they hadn’t been getting along three months ago, all stressed and snappy, and now they were. His crimes were beyond egregious, but… there hadn’t been a slip. She hadn’t questioned his odd behavior, hadn’t headed out to check on him, like she sometimes would during one of his afternoon trips. Said she was too nervous, with the human still in the house. They were used to the rotating cast of young, first-real-job-types, living in a cheap one-bedroom like this, and she didn’t seem to mind this one in particular, but still, a whole human?

I don’t know where you get the braves , she teased him.

Oh, he’s sleepy in the mornings. He prayed she didn’t actually find that thought comforting. Stay in late, Patty baby, stay in as late as you want. 

Farrow dressed, full gear, and went to their kitchen where she stood at the counter mashing wild raspberry, probably from the bush right by the gutter. Hopefully the landlord wouldn’t notice it and cut it down just yet. Farrow wrapped his hands around her from behind and she hummed and stroked his rough chin.

“Kids still asleep?” he whispered.

“Feels like that’s all they do at this age,” she sighed back.

“Oh, they’re growing.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then let her go and went to grab his backpack.

“You sure you don’t want breakfast before you head out?” she teased.

“Soon as I’m back!” 

Patty smiled and tenderly rubbed her cheek. “Alright, sweetheart. Have fun, I love you.”

Another pang of guilt, and he snorted in an attempt to hide it. “Love you too.”

He booked it through the walls, eagerly following the rich smells and shuffling of human feet─subdued but still powerful. Ducking between supports, dodging tips of nails, almost caught his foot on a wire. Farrow was getting a little too anxious. He still had another half hour, probably, before Mateo headed out, no need to rush and injure himself. But showing up at the human’s feet with a bleeding shoulder, being cradled in those strong hands and fussed over, with that gentle voice…

Farrow snapped himself out of it. 

The front porch was on the exact opposite end of the house. The trek was arduous, but the more he could do to maximize the distance between his family and his sins, the better. Besides, ever since Mateo had first complimented his lean build… well, he didn’t mind having to move around so much. 

He shed his gear and slipped out in the living room, behind the console, and crept along the wall until he was within sprinting distance of the ajar front door. Not hiding from any humans, he reminded himself. Just the other borrowers. He dashed out, grabbed the edge of the wooden frame, and swung himself around onto the front porch, stumbling along the laminate threshold. Farrow looked up to Mateo’s face, reclining on the same wicker couch he always did before he left for work, roughly-constructed ceramic mug up to his mouth and a bowl sitting on the end table on his side. His dark eyes smiled as he finished his sip. Farrow watched in awe as he brought the mug back down to his lap. “My little mouse, right on time.”

Every weekday morning (Mateo woke up later than his teens did on weekends, meeting up just wasn’t feasible) Farrow had to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming. The enclosed porch was painted white, floors, half walls, ceiling, everything, and the furniture was all pastels, giving Mateo, with his perfectly bouncy curls and draping green sweater for the fall chill, an ethereal glow. His arm swung down to the floor and Farrow walked to it, slowly, taking in the moment. Mateo’s fingers stroked along his hip before they tenderly wrapped around him, overloading his nose with brown sugar and cream. Mateo let him off on the cushion, straddled by his corduroys, right in front of his package. Stiff. 

A finger came down to stroke along his neck. “And how did it sleep, all cuddled up in the walls?”

Farrow’s eyes flickered anxiously between the gentle smile above and the raw allure of the beast right in front. “Very well,” he managed.

“Oh, it’s impatient.” He chuckled. “I can’t drink coffee at work anymore, you know. I’m too conditioned. It makes me hard.”

Farrow flushed. “Oh,” he giggled, breathlessly. To have that effect on him felt like an honor. “Sorry.”

When Mateo set his mug down on the end table, Farrow started bouncing his legs, unable to contain his excitement. Mateo unzipped his fly and tugged his cock out, a bead of liquid already sitting on its tip, and pushed his pelvis forward to keep it low, low enough for Farrow, even though he’d be more than happy to clamber up. Farrow approached. An inch away, within arm’s length, Mateo’s thumb met his chest. 

Farrow looked up, eyes wide. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth to ask why, saliva would spill out. 

Mateo licked his lips and smiled. “It’s just… my favorite moment. You’re so hungry.”

He nodded. The thumb stayed there, comfortably, and he got antsy. “Please?” he squeaked.

His hand retreated with a chuckle, and Farrow, leaning against it, stumbled face-first into hot flesh. He wiped pre off his nose and lapped at his cockhead, shoving his face against it as he felt called to, stroking and hugging along the edges.

“Oh, Farrow,” Mateo moaned. His own name sent shivers down his spine. “You just keep getting better.” 

He knew the routine by now. Mateo got noisier, breathed faster, and Farrow peeled away from his cock for just long enough to tear off his top and shoes. Couldn’t keep himself from another bout of licks before he broke again to slip into the nude, his flushed skin more than enough to compensate for the crisp breeze. Mateo’s hand gripped him, swinging him horizontal to press against his shaft. Oh, God, yes, finally. Skin on skin, musk enveloping him. Mateo scooted forward, reclining further and bringing Farrow back to his feet. Farrow leaned in, kissing and rubbing his cheeks against the underside of his cockhead, stretching out his fingers to rub the shaft.

Mateo giggled. “Nuzzling me like that… you’re almost like a cat.” Even though Farrow couldn’t see his face, the thumb petting his head still felt incredibly tender. “Marking your territory, are you? Claiming?”

Farrow wasn’t delusional. He saw the other humans Mateo brought home. And Mateo wasn’t naive. He knew Farrow was watching as often as he could.

“Could-could you do third person again?” Farrow asked.

“Marking its territory, is it?”

He let out a tiny groan and doubled his efforts. 

Mateo held him there, moving his own thumb along on the opposite side. His hips wriggled and bucked under Farrow’s feet. Mateo pulled his sweater up to his shoulders and tightened his grip on Farrow, bringing him away from his cock (no, no!) and dropping him onto his chest. Farrow didn’t dare protest─he got to work sucking and rubbing at his nipple with all the same energy. One of the gigantic hands tweaked the other nipple, and its twin tugged eagerly at his cock. That was Farrow’s main complaint about these encounters. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to match the power of a human hand.

Mateo thrusted and moaned, mounting in volume until he abruptly quieted himself, probably remembering the risks of being heard on the other end of the apartment. “Do you want it, Farrow?” he hissed.

“Yes! Yes!” 

Mateo sat up, catching him as he tumbled off his chest, and held his little body in front of his cock. With a final stroke, cum coated Farrow’s chest, rolling down over his shoulders, along his hard dick, warming him almost to a point of intolerability. Within the second he was even hotter, breath washing over him, Mateo’s tongue cleaning him up as quickly as he could, his massive chest twisted down to protect his charge from any early-morning onlookers. Farrow rubbed the errant drops off his face and sucked on his hands before Mateo could drink it all up. Mateo’s turn to be impatient now, feeling every curve and flat with his tongue, nuzzling his lips along his shoulder and sucking lightly as he pulled out, producing a wet pop.

“No-no bruises,” Farrow whimpered.

“I won’t,” he said, as much as he clearly longed to mark his little doll.

His inner lip dragged along Farrow’s thigh. Farrow was on the edge of madness, gripping at the fingers behind him, contorting himself, when Mateo hissed the question:

“When are you gonna commit, Farrow?”

“Nn-” he groaned. “Mateo, please.”

Mateo smiled and teasingly pecked his stomach. Farrow yelped. “All this sneaking around… wouldn’t it be nice to have this whenever?”

“No… stop…”

“A simple dollhouse wouldn’t be too expensive.” He brought his lips against Farrow’s ear. “Cages are even cheaper.”

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” he gasped. “My-my family─”

“I can help them out. Maybe your lovely lady could join us.” Farrow’s desperate squealing made him smile. Fuck, it was a hot thought… but she would never, and even if she would she couldn’t see him like this. Right as he was learning how to take charge in their own bedroom? Mateo lapped his pelvis and Farrow gripped at his nose. “Only asking,” Mateo whispered with a giggle.

Finally, his mouth made contact with his dick. Farrow humped desperately at his massive tongue, moaning as it stroked him in turn, shoving his face into the curve of Mateo’s nose. His eye, looming right besides him, watched with a twinkle. These moments confused Farrow the most. How did he seem him? Cute, entertaining? With real lust? When he said “commit”... was he proposing an actual relationship? Would Mateo stop fucking other people if Farrow asked him to? Did he call him a mouse because Farrow liked it, or because that was what he saw?

For a moment, the stimulation stopped. “It’s spirited today,” Mateo muttered. Farrow cried out and lurched against his face. 

He laid in his hand, panting, regaining control. Farrow felt something odd and brought a hand to his cheek. Wet. He took a shuddery gasp and tried to wipe away the tears. Where the hell were those coming from?

He hazarded a glance up at Mateo and saw real concern. Mateo stroked Farrow’s head lightly and let him cuddle against his fingers. “Hey, hey,” he whispered. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I just─ I think─ I think I should go.”

Farrow sat, waiting, and Mateo didn’t put him down, just continued to frown. 

“Please?” 

Mateo nodded. “Just… Farrow, I want you to know. We don’t always have to fuck. Okay?”

“...Okay.”

Mateo gathered up the tiny articles of clothing flung about the cushion and handed them back before he gently let Farrow off on the floor. He was all composed again already, sweater fixed and pants zipped up─must’ve cleaned himself up while Farrow was preoccupied. Farrow rushed to tug on the bare minimum before he went to leave.

“Wait!” Mateo called out. Farrow turned around, a little reluctantly. He was holding his hand out again─ the end of a banana, a hunk of cheese, a few chocolate chips. “I, uh, I left these on the counter last night. Yeah?”

Duh. The whole reason he was supposedly out here. He nodded and returned to gather all the items up in his hands on top of his last bits of clothing. “Thank you,” he muttered. 

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Farrow dashed off, not looking back, collapsing down the second he reached his safe haven in the wall. No, no, no. Mateo was teasing him. He was a cute little animal, and he was fun to tease, and that was it and why the hell was he crying? Farrow took deep breaths. He had to calm himself. He couldn’t show up at home like this, red-eyed, shaky, confused. 

A few feet away from him, tucked behind some boxes on the porch’s opposite end, another borrower was also trying to calm herself.

Patty sucked at her fingers, sticky and sweet, and wiped her spit off on her pants. She relaxed into her bliss for a moment before she snapped back into reality. Fuck, she got caught up in the moment and forgot to leave before him. Well, he was encumbered now, so if she booked it she had a pretty good shot of making it back first, traveling the route on the opposite side.

Her journey home was so distracted─images of Farrow, dwarfed by a human cock, slathered in saliva, gasping and moaning, kept flashing back into her head. Memories to conjure up when he went down on her tonight. And just a month ago she was still convinced she was only voyeuring for his safety, watching so eagerly and regularly just to make sure he wasn’t in any danger, trying to ignore the way her heart caught in her throat. 

He’d be smelling of semen when he got home. Patty didn’t think he noticed it. She’d kiss him, he’d ask to help with food, she’d convince him to bathe before he did, she’d continue to fake innocent, make sure he made it to the front porch in the mornings, kept so fixated on his guilt that he didn’t notice she was acting as oddly as he was.