Course stone scratches against my back as the heavy arms come down on my shoulders. I stumble, losing my balance even as I stand lean against the rock wall behind me. The limbs are soft but I can feel the strength beneath the fur; powerful muscles shift just beneath the skin. Great claws knead lovingly into the wall. I manage a small smile and wrap my arms around the great cat’s flank. I can’t even put my arms together.
A deep rumble starts in his chest, soothing, rhythmic, and I instinctively relax. I lean my head against the tuft of fur on his chest, marveling at how soft it feels. Despite the fact that I am now trapped between at least five hundred solid pounds of love and a cold slab of rock, I feel safe. Then he turns his head around to rub the edge of his mouth against my forehead and the hot stink of his breath makes me wince. Wet saliva drips down my forehead, but I’m sorry to say I’ve grown accustomed to it.
I try to indicate I want to move again and try to duck under a limb, but he’ll have none of it. He drags his arm down, blocks my path, and gives a deep throated whine that might frighten someone who didn’t know him as well as me. He marks my head again with more determination, this time flipping my hair around into my face. He probably thinks I deserve it for trying to cut his hugs short.
I sigh as he begins to lap at my hair. If everyone knew the King of the Jungle was such a love bug, his title would be short lived.
Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less. Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.