intoxicated. [rylan villanueva]

synopsis: smell (part two of the five senses series).

It took a while for Rylan to trust you. It took even longer for them to accept that they liked you. But once those obstacles were tackled, there was nothing stopping them from showing up at your doorfront every night, seeking warmth and cuddles.

There were a few occasions where they showed up in the daytime, catching you right before you were about to head out. They'd apologize and say they'd come back, but you'd override that, pushing them inside and telling them an approximate time you'd come back.

Like today.

But like most things in your relationship, Rylan had gotten used to it. Used to the kisses, which came for free instead of at a price like they'd been taught. Used to the cuddles at night, your body keeping them grounded. Used to the gifts that you'd hand out like party favours, expecting nothing in return.

They adored you. There was no other way to say it. So much that when you were gone, they liked to take advantage of the situation by raiding your closet. Sometimes, they liked to play dress-up and surprise you when you came back. This time, however, they just wanted something familiar. Something that reminded them of you.

They steal a hoodie and tug it over their head. It smells like you. They barely refrain from lifting the fabric to their nose and inhaling it. God, your scent is intoxicating. It's one of the things they first noticed when coming to your house. How the smell would follow them home, taunt them in corners of the city, telling them not to ruin this. Rylan has no description of it. It's just—you. Inconsequentially you.

Content, Rylan hops into your bed, snuggling into the blankets. It smells like your shampoo here. Once, you let Rylan take a shower in your bathroom and use your products. Their hair came out smelling like yours, so much that they were almost upset when they had to wash it with their shampoo the next time.  

God, they're whipped. It should bother them more than it does, but they love you too much to see it as a problem. Emotions aren't the manipulative tool they once thought they were.

"Rylan?"

Oh, speaking of. They hear you take off your shoes and put down your stuff but make no move to get out of bed. Instead, they switch sides, shifting positions so that they're laying on their left instead of the right. They think they've unconsciously moved to 'their' side of the bed, but they ignore that thought. Like they said, they're whipped.

"Oh, there you are."

Rylan pokes their head out of the covers. "Hi."

"Hi." They want to melt at the soft tone of your voice. "Cold?"

"Without you? Of course."

You roll your eyes. "You say that every time."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

You turn away, but not before they can see how flustered you've become. Rylan grins. Aside from raiding your wardrobe, flirting with you remains their favourite thing. They know they don't technically need to anymore, since you're dating, but it's a habit they can't break. It's worth it, at any rate.

"Where'd you go?" they ask.

Your voice echoes from the bathroom. "The grocery store. I picked up some of those chips you like. We can do a movie night soon if you want."

"Is it my pick?"

"You know very well that you picked last time."

"Just checking."

"I'm sure you are."

You emerge from the bathroom in a new set of clothes. Rylan opens their mouth to speak—they were planning on coaxing you into bed with a bad pickup line—but the words die on their tongue when they see the look on your face.

"You're wearing my hoodie," you state.

Oh. That's what it is.

Rylan feels themself flush. "Yeah. Is that okay?"

You shake your head. Your eyes are glued to their chest. "No, that's— It's fine. It's just— You look good in it."

God. Never have they felt so hot, even when the two of you are pressed against each other in bed, their lips on your neck and a hand around your waist. Okay, maybe that's a lie. But for someone who isn't making out with you right now, they're warm.

"I… " Rylan swallows. They force a smile. "That's how I felt when you wore my leather jacket for the first time."

You scowl. "Shut up."

"No. It's cute."

You walk over and lean over the bed. Rylan stares up at you, memorizing your features like it's the first time again. They want to pull you down, but they refrain themself, waiting to see what you'll do next. It turns out to be worth it because a split second later, you're kissing them. They gasp into your mouth—then again when they feel your hand tilting their chin up. It's short, lasting no more than a couple of seconds, but it leaves them breathless.

When you pull apart, they chase you for more.

You laugh. "That's what you get. But you should wear my stuff more often. It looks good on you."

Rylan thinks they'd wear anything if it means doing this again. Do anything. They tell you as much and you smile. When they lean in for another kiss, this time, you let it happen.