Sugar Coated

31

Delaney Linwood

I was in Em's bedroom and he was rifling through his clothes trying to find me something reasonable to wear before Rosie and Foster showed up on their doorstep for a Delaney custody handoff. I took the opportunity to admire the room I hadn't seen last night. It wasn't his nest, that room was back down the hall a ways, and I still wondered what was hidden in there. I'd imagine it was similar in ways to the jewel tones of his bedroom, mixed with the dark woods and the brass accents. It was awash in color, the most glaringly opposite aesthetic to the sad millennial gray that was all the rage. His bed was a mess of pillows, blankets, and clothes and I assumed some buried electronic item attached to the end of the charging cord that disappeared into it as well. It was hectic and delightfully unique. It was the type of place where you could study for years and still find something new the next time you stuck your head in it.

I loved it.

"I can just put on the clothes I wore last night," I caught the blush cashmere sweater he threw my way.

He rounded on me assessing as I tugged off Jax's shirt and pulled the sweater on, not caring about the fact that I was bare underneath. He and the rest of the pack had seen far more of me than just a naked body, and lord willing we'd be in my precarious positions later that I didn't see the reasoning behind outdated sensitivities. The sweater dwarfed me. Em must have seen something in it though because he stepped up and pulled it tight in a few spots before nodding and returning to his closet.

"You won't be wearing your clothes from last night," I'd almost forgotten I'd optioned it, it took him so long to finally respond.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm keeping them," this time he handed me a pair of khakis.

We stood at a stalemate for a second, me holding a pair of pants that were going to be too long and him with a mischievous smile that he wasn't even trying to smother.

When I didn't pull the pants on immediately, he crooned at me, "I dare you to try and find where I've put them."

They're in his nest. He knows they're there. I know they're there.

"I wasn't allowed to sneak into Andres room and be with you this morning, but that didn't mean I'd forgotten the spare room. It was the first thing I did before anyone in this house was awake. You're stuck with me, Doll. Fair warning though," He reached for the sweater again and tugged it up my hip until it was only just barely decent, "If you do go looking for it, there's a non-zero chance you'll be late to seeing your friends and I'll be stealing these clothes too."

He watched with rapt attention while I pulled on his pants. They were too long, just like I knew they would be, but he dropped to his knees and rolled them into highwaters then fiddled with tucking the sweater into the pants for a while before he finally seemed satisfied with the look.

I was drowning in fabric that smelled like him and I couldn't complain about it. He had impeccable taste. The cashmere was warm against my skin and I'd bet that all of the tags had been meticulously cut out of the clothes. The pants themselves were well worn enough that the fabric had turned buttery soft. The fit was giving a loose prep style that I could see being paired with linen on the cover of a fashion magazine if I weren't still barefoot.

"You steal my socks too or am I going to raw dog my shoes on the way home?"

His laugh was an undignified snort so at odds with the Em that was in the shop, who kept himself immaculately put together in front of patrons. With his messy hair and the clothes that were askew, he looked delectable, biteable even.

You'll get to bite him one day. And just like that Emil West made me wet enough that I was half concerned I'd have to change out of these pants too.