Demetri

I ran my hand through his curly, black hair, scratching his head from front to back. He moved his head around languorously, in my palms, purring silently. As my hand slid to the crown of his head, he looked up at me with those big, sleepy, brown eyes and smiled, dreamily.

"Yes, just like that," whispered Demetri. "Mmmmm, just like that."

His hair was think in my hands – it certainly made me think – er, thick in my hands.

My fingers tips tingled with the touch of his scalp.

I breathed him in. He smelt like soap and hair wax

He purred at my touch.

I purred touching him.

“You have great fingers.”

“You have great hair.”

“The difference is that I want your fingers.”

“There is no difference, I want your hair.”

“I’d be bald.”

“I’d have stumps on the ends of my arms.”

“We’d be two thirds of the Three Stoogers.”

“I think you need to read up on the Three Stoogers.”

“How so?”

“There was no stumpy.”

“I’d be curly, though.”

“Well, actually, I’d be curly, as I’d have your hair.”

“So, I’d be Fingers.”

“You’d need a machine gun case and a black car.”

“And I’d have a name like, Billy “Fingers” Muldoon.

“Did time in the pen for aggravated assault and robbery.”

Demetri laughed.

My fingers slid through his curls with them uncurling around each of my digits and re-curling once my fingers had passed through them. It felt like something more than just hair.

“Can we do this every week.”

“Sure,” I said. I laughed and snorted through my nose.

“I mean can we make a time, and make it happen.”

“Every week, you say?” As much as I liked Demetri in exactly this position, I was kind of doubtful about a regular weekly thing.

“Absolutely.”

“That would be more than Liam gets.”

“Oh, stuff Liam, he has you all of the time.”

“Can I quote you?”

“Quote me?”

“To Liam?”

“Oh.” Demetri laughed. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

“Okay then.”

“I’m not scared of Liam, and I’d fight for one of these head massages.”

“Would I get to determine the joust.”

“Why you?”

“Well, you’d be fighting over me, after all.”

“Well, technically your fingers.”

“Which are attached to me.”

“But no, I’m sure I just claimed ownership of them, when you claimed ownership of my hair.”

“So, you are bald with twenty fingers.”

“I could poke Liam in the eyes with your fingers.”

“I could slap you with your own hair for poking Liam in the eyes.”

“It would make a change to where he usually gets your fingers.”

“I’m guessing then he’d be stumbling about blind holding his hands to his eyes.”

“So, I win,” said Demetri. “And I’d be sitting back with you massaging my head.”

“With my stumps where my fingers used to be.”

“Well, it would be stumps on bald skin then.”

“Do you think it would make a squeaking sound?”

“My teeth are already on edge just thinking about it.”

“And poor Liam bleeding from the face through no fault of his own.”

“He got in between me and my regular head massage.”

“Bastard!”

“That will teach him, quite frankly.”

I stopped massaging momentarily, think about Liam with blood running down his face like some kind of Madonna imagery.

“Don’t stop,” said Demetri.

“Well, quite demanding.”

“I am only demanding the best.”

“I see what you did there.”