Pierce

He took his time cleaning up the glass, finding a broom and pan hidden under the sink that he could use to sweep it up. He first cleared the open floors. Then he gently moved the stove and swept under there, and then followed up with the fridge, ensuring he got into every corner he could. The last thing he wanted was Mila slicing her foot open on a shard he’d missed.

She couldn’t heal like he could, so it was paramount he was thorough.

Pierce healed easily from flesh wounds. The skin on the bottom of his feet was already sealed and freshly pink, even though one piece had actually dug fairly deep into his sole.

Almost as deep as her rejection had dug into his soul. But Pierce didn’t allow himself to dwell on that as he dumped the last remains of the glass into the little garbage bin and hung the brush and pan back up on their hooks. It was his fault, after all, that things had gone the way they did. His fault, that Mila now looked at him as if he were a stranger.

He’d seen it, the recognition in her eyes as the sound of the glass smashing had broken the spell over the two of them. Before she’d looked at him not with adoration, but with a certain wide-eyed enjoyment. But at that moment, she’d looked at him with eyes that didn’t see the him she knew. All she’d seen, he was positive, was the random stranger she’d stumbled over while out for a jog.

It unnerved him, and if he were ever to admit it to anyone, it hurt him as well.

“Which is absolutely stupid,” he told himself firmly.

Not only had she just met him this morning, but the same applied in reverse. They’d known each other for like fifteen hours. And yet he’d let himself give in and abuse the physical attraction she obviously had for him, twisting it to his own advantage. Yes, he’d obviously not held back in making sure she was pleasured, but Mila had been the one to pull away earlier, to say no.

And Pierce hadn’t respected that when they’d found each other later that night. He should have stopped it the moment their fingers touched over his glass, which thankfully he’d set onto a different part of the counter and was still there. Pierce downed the water in one chug, then bent over and pulled his boxers back on, his partially-hard cock forcing the front out in a tent.

Well that’s just annoying.

He knew it wouldn’t go away unless he did something about it. The smell and taste of Mila was just too fresh for him to calm right down, even with the cold shower she’d metaphorically dumped over him. But he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t in the mental mood anymore.

He wandered back downstairs, noting that Ellie was now long gone, leaving him alone once more.

With a heavy sigh borne of regret at his own actions, Pierce curled up on his side on the carpet and attempted to sleep.

***

Once he awoke the next morning, he still didn’t feel any better about himself. In fact, if anything, his dreams had amplified his guilt, making it worse once he regained his senses.

He stretched, though despite the less-than-ideal sleeping conditions, he wasn’t sore. The low ceilings and lack of windows in the area of the basement he occupied, along with the exposed foundation walls, all served to give the place a cozy feel. It was as close to a cave as he could get, and his bear had found it intensely satisfying compared to any of the other options immediately available to him. Although it had taken him some time to calm down, once Pierce had gotten to sleep, he’d slept peacefully.

Which is good, because it’s a whopping 7:00 a.m.

He headed for the stairs, but paused hesitantly. Looking up at the door, he wondered if he could handle it. The press of the city and the concrete jungle that was the human world.

Pierce braced himself for the anxiety and tenseness to return, to flood his refreshed body and begin to work him over once more. Then he took a step. Almost immediately he felt his bear realize what was happening, and as he climbed the stairs, the feelings grew in strength.

That wasn’t the same as saying they become overwhelming, however. It was certainly stronger once he reached the top, there was no denying that. Pierce could feel the world around him pressing in, but it was subdued, far less than it had been the day before.

Am I just getting used to it?

Even as he thought that though, he realized that wasn’t accurate. It would take longer than a few hours for his bear to get used to the idea of being in the city. No, it was a much simpler answer.

Last night Mila had helped reduce his stress levels. Inadvertently, perhaps, but Pierce had noticed that whenever she was close, or if he could listen to her voice, it had served to soothe him, to ease his troubles.

It appeared that becoming intimate with her helped as well.

Not that I’m likely to find out anytime soon, but I wonder how having sex with her would affect things…

He shrugged that idea aside, well aware that it was going to be a lengthy process for him to re-establish any sort of trust from Mila. He had broken that more completely than the glass the night before, when he hadn’t stopped himself for her.

He berated himself some more to ensure that he never forgot his mistake and how it had not only cost him, but had also hurt her. He emerged into the kitchen, the room infused with an orange light that filtered through the white blinds on the windows at the back of the house.

A long listen told him that Mila was still in bed. Lifting his head, he tested the air, but that only confirmed the lack of a fresh scent from her. She hadn’t gotten up and left the house already either. The real question was if she was still passed out, or if she was up and just hiding away from him.

There’s one way to find out.

Pierce began to rummage around in the fridge, and upon finding the ingredients he’d hoped, set to with some gusto.

He was humming a lively drinking tune, his foot bouncing in time with it as he worked, when he first became aware of the noise.

The noise on his lips died as he focused. There was a slow drag of material, followed by a pause, then another drag. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it sounded like a zombie shuffling along.

Mila appeared around the corner, sweatpants on and the hood of her sweatshirt pulled low over her face as she shuffled slowly forward.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Pierce looked at her, then looked at what he was doing, then back at her. “Does human eyesight not function in the morning?” he asked quizzically.

“What?” she almost snapped at him.

“I’m making breakfast,” he explained. “I thought it was obvious.”

Mila just made a noise.

“Did I do something wrong?” Pierce looked around the kitchen, wondering where he’d gone wrong.

Another unintelligible noise came from Mila, and then she shuffled across the kitchen and punched a button on a machine.

“Oh,” Pierce said as he realized what it was all about.

Ignoring her, he turned back, flipping the bacon even as he depressed the button on the toaster. A knife slid from the block and he began to cut off some slices of cheese, enough for each of them.

Mila just leaned against the cupboard, resting her forehead on it as she waited for her task to be done. Pierce, for his part, wisely didn’t say anything or try to get her to move. Basically he did his best to ensure she literally had to do absolutely nothing.

It was the best tactic.