That Time Pup Was Celibate For a Little Bit, Part Five
Pup was leaving my place one night when somehow I figured out he was carrying his knife on him.
“You’re not supposed to be,” I badgered. I had been leaning up against my door while he was putting on his boots.
He got up to his feet. “Says who?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, “why are you even carrying it?”
“Because I want to.”
Feeling a little coy, I asked to see it. I jumped a little in my skin when he flicked it open. When he took hold of my hand and unfolded my fingers, I froze. Carefully, he pressed the knife into my palm, making sure not to break the skin.
“Pretty sharp, huh?” He was grinning.
I blushed. “Uh huh.”
My face was still burning when he left.