The Battered Plush
Written for fun in a discussion, but I was persuaded to translate and post it. Normally I don’t write this way — hope someone enjoys it! Though, judging by this experiment, I probably need to think twice before writing anything else in present tense.
“Hey, give it back!”
You reach for a rather battered plush dog, worn out by age, held high above your head by Gallagher with one hand. The old childhood toy was given to you by your grandfather even before you went to first grade. It has been through a lot: endless “family” and “doctor” games, trips to the sea, tears shed over first love, spilled ink during exam preparations, and spilled coffee during sleepless work nights...
Old, because of that beloved toy. The precious one.
And now your man holds it above your head, old — you loved to tease him like that — and precious, just like the plush dog, with a cheeky grin on his face.
“You’re already a grown-up girl, why do you need this plush dog?” Gallagher asks mockingly, watching your attempts to grab your treasure.
You’re afraid of accidentally hitting him with your elbow or knee while jumping, even though you know he would easily dodge, so you jump only half-heartedly, awkwardly holding on to his shoulder for balance. This only makes Gallagher’s lips stretch into a smile he’s trying to pass off as sly and teasing — since the whole game with the plush dog was meant only to annoy you! — but the smile that comes out is tender and affectionate. Of course, you don’t notice that.
“It calms me down!” you jump again, this time a little higher, your fingertips brushing the plush dog’s paw, but you fail to grab it, so you jump again.
And now you manage to grab its paw — and another “paw”, large, calloused, marked by burns and cuts, grabs your waist.
“You’re going to knock me over, cupcake.”
Gallagher practically holds you in the air and takes a step back, deliberately swaying to scare you, but you don’t care — you’ve almost reached your goal and ignore everything else. You stretch out your other hand, letting go of his shoulder and Gallagher immediately releases the toy, only to wrap his other arm around your waist as well.
And then he stumbles — whether deliberately or not — and falls onto the bed, dragging you down with him.
Several moments pass before you realize your new position: the soft mattress, the wine-colored bed sheets, that cheeky grin on the unshaven face once again, his hands locked together on your waist so you can neither pull away nor get up. And victory — the plush dog in your hands.
Victory... or not?
“Told you you’d make me fall, cupcake,” Gallagher laughs, rubbing his cheek against yours, making you flinch at the rough bristle against delicate skin. You snort in annoyance, but Gallagher knows: you like it. And you know that he knows — but you still keep protesting every time. “So you’re saying this plush dog calms you down?”
A spark lights up in his eyes, though you don’t see it yet.
“Yes, it calms me, it—”
“What about me?” Gallagher interrupts. “I’m better than this dog!”
A thousand thoughts rush into your head at once — what joke to make, what reply to give — but before you can choose, Gallagher suddenly flips you over on the bed, and now he’s on top, and you feel the softness of the mattress under your back and the pounding of his heart against your chest.
“Gall, what—”
“Shhh, let’s put it aside for now...”
Gallagher gently takes the plush dog from your hands, stretches to place it at the edge of the bed — he would never dare carelessly toss your beloved toy — sitting it with its back turned to you, as if not allowing it to watch what’s about to happen.
Although, of course, this plush dog has seen plenty in its plush life...
You don’t have time to react before Gallagher’s lips are already brushing lightly against your temple, then your cheek, then tracing the line of your jaw. His tongue slides up your face as if he really were a dog happy to see his owner — you laugh, and he does it again, slower this time, then once more from the other side...
Gallagher takes his time, savoring the moment, and before he finally reaches your lips, it feels like an eternity has passed. It looks like he decided to be especially gentle tonight — but that doesn’t last long: the moment he feels your breathing quicken, the tender, slow kiss turns into a passionate, demanding one.
“Gall, I...”
“Shhh...”
His hands glide over your body, lifting the edge of your T-shirt, your skin breaking out in goosebumps from the contrast between the cool air of the room and his hot palms. With his knee he parts your legs, settling more comfortably so as not to hurt you with his weight, while his kisses move smoothly down your neck, then lower, to your collarbones...
...all you can do is close your eyes and surrender to the moment. It’s hard to believe Gallagher actually got jealous of the plush toy — but the result turned out much better than what you’d planned when you started teasing him today.
