Room Monster Boyfriend: Toulouse (complete)

In the last few months, fed up with your job and needing a break, you’ve started offering computer services from your home. You got to do a pretty big job for a local accounting firm, so you had a few extra bucks to get some necessary things for your new home office.

It’s lucky you and a friend come across an estate sale one afternoon. Whoever owned the place was never there and has recently died, so everything is being sold for a reasonable price. You’re looking for furniture and office supplies, and you aren’t really picky if the price is right. You find a desk in the back office, huge and shiny with beautiful wood, engraved and embellished with flowers, animal heads, and a glittering marble desktop. It’s more than you had budgeted for, but you can write it off when taxes were due. You simply have to have it.

When you finally get the desk home and set up in your office, all you can do is stare at it. You always wanted something fancy like this. All the greatest villains seem to have some sort of fancy desk like this. You have the cat, and the desk, now all you need is the fancy rolling chair to make the set complete. For now, you’re using an old dining chair you found in your folks’ garage.

You get your office set up, buying big plastic drawers for all your supplies. The drawers in the desk are locked, much to your surprise. You call the estate salespeople, but the person in charge says they could never find a key. You figure eventually you could call a locksmith, but for now you’re just happy to have something pretty and worthwhile all your own.

One day while you’re working, you keep feeling something at your feet, but you just figured it’s your cat. You keep working, feeling something occasionally swipe or paw at your feet. You kick, and it stops for a moment. Then you hear your cat yowling from the kitchen.

You look up, confused. The cat was just under the desk, wasn’t he? You dip down, looking under the desk. Nothing. Maybe your fat cat is quicker than you give him credit for. You get up and go to the kitchen to see what he wants.

That evening you return to work, finishing up a few things with a repair job and piecing the covering together. You feel something at your feet again, and because you’re busy and not thinking, you dismiss it as the cat again. You kick, and something grabs you. You see the cat outside in the hallway, licking himself complacently.

A cold sweat forms on your brow. There is something under your desk and it has you by the ankle. You don’t move. You barely breathe. You just sit there waiting. All sorts of worst-case scenarios flow through your mind. What if the desk is haunted? What if there’s a serial killer living in the desk? Ever so slowly, you try to pull your leg back. Whatever is holding you maintains its grip. You reluctantly peer down, and beyond your chubby legs you see maroon eyes glowing in the shadows. You scream and kick, trying to scramble from your chair, then fall with a thud onto the floor.

“Easy. Easy!” A voice comes from the shadows.

You kick the hand away and try to get up, but you trip over a cord and hit the floor again. Looking back, you see something coming out from under the desk. The way it comes out, it almost looks like a fuzzy caterpillar. It twists slightly, and you see legs under a very wide tail.

“I just want you to stop kicking me!” The creature rises, turning its head towards you. The face is long, with angular contours. The bottom lip juts out, tusks protruding above it. Long ears twitch, perking up as it looks at you. The maroon eyes narrow, then widen before long, grey blue hair falls into the creature’s face.

You sit frozen, unable to move or breathe. “P-please, don’t eat me!” you manage to squeak in fright. You cover your head with your arms and begin to cry,

“I don’t eat humans,” the monster grumps. “If I wanted to eat garbage, I would.” It moves closer to you, squatting down in front of you. It’s feet are absolutely huge, the dark toes spread out wide from its considerable weight. Each toe is capped by a sharp claw. The dark fur is midnight blue, with a shimmer. It blends into dusky beige, then pale sand at the belly.

“Hey,” the creature says gently. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” A massive paw rests on the top of your head. “My kind don’t do that.”

You peer up through your hands, seeing the creature gaze down on you gently. The long hair falls over its face again, draping down its back and shoulders like a blanket.

“How c-can I trust th-that?” You’re still quaking from the fright.

The monster sighs. “My name is Toulouse.” He lays a paw over his chest. “That desk over there, is my home. And you kept kicking me in the head.”

“I thought you were my cat,” you hiccup.

His eyes narrow. “Why would you kick your cat?”

You sniffle and lift your head further. “He steals my socks! It’s a game.”

Toulouse’s smile is gentle as he offers you his paw. His palm has berry-colored toe pads, and they look soft and squishy. You take it, letting him help you to stand. “You live in a desk?” you murmur.

He sniffs. “I live in the void attached to the desk,” he replies. “Furniture made with love and care all has a connection to what’s underneath.”

You swallow, but your voice still cracks. “What’s underneath?”

“Not for you to know,” Toulouse shrugs. He pushes the hair out of his face. “I just ask you to respect the space.”

Your mind is still spinning. This is a lot for you to take in. “You’re going to keep living there?”

“As long as you own this desk, I will always be here.” He smirks and places his paw on top of your head. “Got a problem with that?”

“I do. But, I mean, you’re way bigger than me, so...” You gulp again.

Toulouse chuckles and lifts his chin. “Just don’t keep kicking me, and I think we’ll be able to make this work.”

It takes you a bit to get used to having Toulouse around. Now that you know about his existence, he has no desire to keep himself hidden anymore. You see him around the apartment, going to the kitchen to eat, sometimes lounging with your cat in the sun by the windows. You get a ottoman to sit on, so you can sit cross-legged and not worry about kicking Toulouse anymore.

One afternoon, you keep rubbing your neck as you work. It’s been bothering you the last few days, and you can’t seem to get rid of the sensation.

“You’re fidgeting a lot.” Toulouse comes out from under the desk, pushing back your ottoman so he has room.

“My neck,” you huff. “It’s just a little sore.”

Toulouse sniffs and pushes the ottoman back into its place. He stands behind you and grabs the back of your neck in that huge paw of his. You sit alert, going stiff all over. “Don’t worry,” he scoffs. “Just feeling it.”

“Why grandma, what big paws you have.” You try to make a joke to make everything feel easier.

Toulouse smirks and starts rubbing. His fingers knead into your neck, moving around so every inch is massaged. “Here.” He pressed his thumb just below the nape. “There’s a knot here.”

“Is it bad?”

He chuckles. “It’s pretty tangled. I’ll have to reach inside and pull it apart.” He takes both paws, pressing both thumbs into that spot.

You can’t control yourself and a loud moan escapes your throat. You cover your mouth and turn beet-red from embarrassment.

He guffaws. “Oh good! I thought I was hurting you.” He continues to work at the knot, going down your spine and back up. He kneads at your shoulders and the place where they meet your neck. You almost feel rubbery by the time he’s done.

“Any better?” Toulouse moves around so he can see your face.

Your cheeks are still molten, even more so as he looks at you. “Mhm,” you nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

You become less nervous around Toulouse. Getting to know him bit by bit makes him seem less strange and alarming. He’s a little lazy, and enjoys sunning and sleeping, which is probably why your cat likes him so much. You figure if the cat approves, he must not be all bad. Toulouse seems to really enjoy peanut butter, and you can’t keep a jar in the house for longer than a few days. As soon as he knows you have some, he’s on it, eating it with a spoon. It doesn’t matter what brand or type you get, he eats it with gusto.

One day, you’ve just dealt with a very difficult client. Nothing pleases them, no matter what you do. They are unsatisfied, hellbent on being mean, agitated, and making it your fault. They’ve never paid you and given you a long list of reasons why. Once you get home, you break down sobbing.

“You’re flooding the apartment.” Toulouse is suddenly there.

You look up through tears, snot, and swollen red eyes. His expression becomes soft as Toulouse picks you up off the ground. He holds you tenderly, letting you sob onto his shoulder while he carries you to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed with you, you remain in his lap just blubbering away. You can’t find the words to tell him what happened, but he doesn’t seem to care. He holds you and rubs your back, gently nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

After a while, you fall asleep against him, exhausted from crying and being ripped a new one. When you wake up, it’s late. Outside there is heavy rain and the distant growl of thunder. You sniffle, rubbing your crusty eyes, and see Toulouse has tucked you into bed. As you rise he comes into the doorway with a steaming cup in his hands.

“I figured you’d be waking up soon.” He sits down beside you. “I made that tea you like.”

You smile and take it, brushing your fingers against his. “Thank you. This is so sweet.” You look up at him as his hair falls back into his face. “You didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs. “I wanted some, too.”

“No, I mean before.”

Toulouse sighs and touches your cheek, smoothing his large thumb under your eye. He tucks your hair behind your ear, then pinches your earlobe. “Are you okay?”

“Just some asshole,” you grumble.

He sniffs. “I don’t eat humans. But I can use these huge paws of mine to rip them open as a warning.” He clenches his fingers, and claws jut out.

You shake your head. “Maybe later.”

Toulouse relaxes his hand and moves behind you, letting you sit in his lap again with your back to his chest. You sit quietly for a spell, sipping your tea and enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat against your shoulder. The power flickers, then turns off.

“Uh-oh.” You sit up. “Let me go fetch some candles.” You take your phone, turning on the light so you can search for your stash of emergency candles.

“I can see in the dark.” Toulouse’s eyes glow as he follows you.

“I can’t!” You finally find the candles and  light a couple. The glow illuminates Toulouse and reveals his fur has more shimmer to it that you thought. “Oh, wow, you’re so pretty.”

Toulouse tilts his chin up and sniffs. “Shut up.”

You beam. Seeing him get embarrassed is very cute. “No, really! You do!”

He shakes his head, and his hair sways around his face and shoulders like a thick, lovely curtain. You step closer to Toulouse and place your hand around his wrist. “Let me braid your hair for you. It must get annoying.”

“Fine, whatever.”

You go back to your bedroom, and he sits on the floor while you sit on the bed. Your legs hang over his shoulders while you braid. His hair is long and thick, but the texture is silky, and in the candlelight there is an almost iridescent shine to it. Toulouse rests his head on your thigh, and you jolt slightly. “Soft,” he grumbles.

You swallow and keep braiding, tying off the end. “There! All done.”

Toulouse doesn’t lift his head. If anything, he snuggles further into your soft thigh. Your cheeks burn, and you’re not sure what to say or do. The warmth of his cheek flows through your skin, moving up and teasing between your legs.

“Okay, so...” You bite your lip.

Toulouse lifts his head and rises from the floor. The long braid hangs over his shoulder and he strokes it gently. “Not too bad.”

You look over his body like a work of art, then avert your gaze. “Well, not much to do while the power is out.”

Toulouse sits back on the bed. “We could always play truth-or-dare.”

Giggling, you look back at him. “What? Like we’re kids or something?”

His smirk grows. “It’ll give us a chance to learn about one another. Or are you chicken?” he teases.

“I’m always chicken.” You turn so you face him. “Alright, then. How do we play?”

“Got a coin? Heads are dare, tales are truth.”

You have a couple of quarters in your bedside drawer, so you take one out. “Okay, sounds like a good way to pass the time.” You flip the coin, and it’s tails.

“Let’s see,” Toulouse hums. “What really happened today that made you cry so much when you got home?”

You frown. “I told you some asshole client I worked with got to me.”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s not the whole truth.”

Your upper lip stiffens as you try to hold back. “He called me names,” you mutter. “Said he should have known better than to let a woman work on his computer.”

Toulouse growls. “Asshole.” He takes the coin and tosses it. “Heads,” he smirks. “I get a dare.”

You’re still trying to keep from crying from your truth. “A dare, huh?”

He holds up a finger. “Within reason! I ain’t going to lick anything weird or gross.”

You smile. “Then I dare you to lick me!” It’s bold, and you figure he’d say no. But he’s suddenly upon you, his long, tongue licking over your lips and down your neck. It swirls in your ear, and he bites your earlobe.

“Easy.” He’s grinning as he pulls back.

You might as well have no thoughts at all. He’s taken them all.

“Flip the coin,” he chuckles.

You nervously flip, getting tails again.

“Tell the truth. Did you like that?”

You nod and your voice cracks. “Yeah. It was really...” You bite your lip. “Yeah.”

Toulouse takes the coin and flips. “Tails.”

“Did you like it?” You’re breathless.

Toulouse nods and inches closer. “I could have done it all night.” He places the coin in your hands.

You look down into your palm. “It’s heads.”

Toulouse’s grin becomes wicked. “You didn’t flip it.”

“No,” you murmur. “It’s heads. Dare me.”

Toulouse slips his paw under your jaw, practically holding your head in his palm. “I dare you to kiss me, and you can do it for as long as you want, wherever you want.”

Your lashes flutter. “You sure?”

He closes the gap, kissing you while pulling you into his lap. You hold your breath, kissing more and more as your confidence grows. You kiss his jaw, his neck, moving down to his chest. You drag your tongue down his belly, and stop short. Your palms press against his thighs. You sit up with him still lying on the bed. He smirks, raising his long arms above his head. He flexes for you, posing to make himself look even more delectable. You lick the corner of your mouth, gazing down as his cock rises from a slit between his legs. A thicket of hair similar to the color on his head opens up around the thick, pink shaft.

“It glitters,” you whisper.

Toulouse chuckles and props himself up on his elbows. “Too much?”

You look into his eyes and giggle. “It’s pretty, like the rest of you.”

He pulls you back into him, kissing you and laying you out on the bed. He takes off your clothes, kissing every inch of skin as it becomes exposed. He nuzzles your soft belly, your thick thighs and hips. He eventually opens your thighs, and a grin spreads his lips.“Look how plump and cute you are. Mind if I play with it a little?”

You shake your head as he dips down. His tongue slathers itself over your folds, dipping down between your buttocks and back up. He sits back, opening you with his fingers before pressing your labia shut again. His circles your clit, rubbing it slowly as he watches you grow wetter and wetter for his amusement. He licks you one last time, then sits up, pulling you into his lap so your legs are against his chest.

“Still okay?” he whispers.

You nod, watching him as he moves. You moan out loud as he comes inside, opening you up and filling you with his length. You’re glad he’s holding your legs, because they’re shaking. “You’re too good,” he growls. “So tight and sweet.” He grins as he moves, rolling his hips so you feel every inch of him. “I’ll make sure to reward you extra well tonight.”

You whimper and mewl, unable to form words. You’re not sure how he can talk, let alone so seductively. He thrusts and watches as your breasts jiggle. “I love how your cute, soft body moves when I fuck you,” he growls. He thrusts again and again. “Just like that. You look edible.”

You moan in reply, swooning as he fills your head and body.

He keeps talking to you, making your mind as aroused as your pussy. His voice eventually becomes low groans, fading into animalistic grunts as he comes to his end. He bends over of you, kissing and biting. You cling to him, breathing hard. There is something growing, becoming tight and unbearable within you, like a balloon, swelling until it finally pops. You cry out, raking your nails down his back.

“Good girl! Yes!” He thrusts deep. “Come for me, good girl.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, whimpering as you melt into pudding.

Toulouse overflows inside you, burning you up from the core. He kisses your cheek and nibbles your ear. “Good girl, yes. You felt so good, I don’t know how I lasted so long.” He slips out of you. “Did you have fun?”

You nod weakly. He kisses you softly, lovingly. “That’s all that matters.”

You look into his eyes. “What about you?”

He smirks. “I had too much fun.” He kisses again. “I probably will be grinning in my sleep.”

You kiss his neck and chest, slowly rubbing his sides. “Did you mean everything you said during sex?”

He sighs. “I have to confess, I wasn’t telling the full truth. I just didn’t want to give you an ego,” he smirks. “You were better than everything I said.”

You kiss him again, holding him tight. “Thank you.”

“I’ll tell the truth next time,” he whispers. “I’ll make sure you know just how wonderful you are every day. No coin needed.”