hmmm i don't think i called you inexperienced, did i? don't get paranoid now, puppy
i'm just inspired by the idea of helping you hone your skills. testing you, if you're so untested, like you say. i'm sure i'll have a trick or two up my sleeve you've never seen before
[ Holy shit, he needs to stop risking the roommate reveal. This can't keep happening to him. But it will. He will never stop testing the water and he knows it. ]
... though. okay. i was being a little over eager earlier when i said i can teleport straight to you. i have to have already been somewhere to use my power to get there again. so. you'll have to let me in
[ Luckily for the Cat — or for both of them, really — he's been to The Sienna before. In fact, the last time he played roommate roulette was in this very place, so he knows it well. He arrives in a matter of moments, the only wait time being the time spent finding the floor, and then the right apartment number.
He spots Phainon waiting and approaches with barely restrained haste, feeling weirdly pedestrian doing something so simple while there's an arousal simmering in him hot enough that his skin feels stiflingly warm under the fur of his coat; like the simple sheer shirt and slacks combo he's wearing beneath is simply too stifling for comfort.
It's easy, then, to push him inside like he owns the place once he gets close enough to, delighting in the contact of hands on a warm body near instantaneously, almost refusing to let him close the door because he's so intent on touching him, hands splaying across his chest. ]
Please tell me you don't have some kind of no sex in the apartment rule I'm tempting you into breaking.
[ Look he's... just making sure. He really can't keep doing that. ]
[ Phainon is doing his best not to appear too overeager as he waits for Cat to make his way over, far quicker than he’d anticipated. Their powers being useful when they’re going to indulge themselves is a novelty to him, he thinks, and he can’t hide the excitement on his face or the way his eyes widen as the other man appears, crowding in almost immediately.
He is a warrior, a soldier who has fought endlessly for a better world, who could, with his strength, lift this man and move him if he wanted, and yet Phainon finds ease and comfort in the knowledge that Cat will lead him, guide him, show him an easier way. He doesn’t have to think, or overthink, doesn’t have to let his mind wander to the deep dark places he’s more familiar with, only has to listen to what this man has to say and reply as honestly as he can.
It’s why he laughs at the first words out of his mouth, thinking of how he has crawled into Mydeimos’ bed when the Cat’s marks on his neck and taken him into his mouth so jealously and covetously. It would be hard to enforce that kind of rule when he and Mydei permitted themselves the occasional indulgence, his heart raw and battered at the comfort being around his best friend offers. ]
No, there’s no agreement like that.
[ Phainon kicks the door shut and, unable to resist, leans up to steal a kiss, slotting their mouths together and tilting his head to deepen it as quickly as he can. ]
[ The Cat makes some sound of relief at the confirmation, or perhaps it's because of the way Phainon kisses him and almost immediately pushes it hotter, scrubbing all thoughts of the last time he was here clean out of his mind, boxing all those stupid lingering feelings away to be a problem for another time, another day, another cat.
The Cat he is now feels unchained, delighted by the fact that he's got a warm body against him, under his paws, when he honestly thought he was looking forward to a night alone and maybe a few dirty texts to keep him company, if he was lucky. And though this fun little toy he's been batting around inside his mind since the evening of the ball certainly isn't ready to go out in the world and sext with any particularly staggering results, the arousal thrumming through the Cat from just his few messages is certainly nothing to sniff at. ]
Mmh— fuck— [ He'd been planning to say something in the moment between their kiss where he takes a breath, probably ask where the bedroom is or something similar, but the loss of Phainon's mouth on his makes his claws and teeth feel sharp, so he fast hooks a hand at the back of the other man's neck to keep him close as he repairs their kiss once more, teeth against his tongue, against his lips. His other hand finds the hem of whatever shirt he's wearing — fuck, he didn't even look at him beyond his face when he arrived, the man could literally be wearing anything — and wrestles beneath it, getting skin on skin with the urgency of a man who needs this in order to breathe. ]
[ Phainon had been dressed down, at least, a pair of sweatpants and a purple shirt that could rightly be called hideous decorating him, so it might be for the best that the Cat hasn’t looked at him properly. The touch of hands on his skin has him burning, golden scars on his chest under exploding fingertips, the muscles of a trained soldier and warrior clear as Cat explores. Even as he moves, trying to get them to his bedroom as swiftly as he can, he’s wriggling out the clothes.
Keeping hold of his shirt is easy, if only so he can avoid questions later.
He has to pause along the way to let himself sink into the kiss, to lift a hand to scratch through hair and scalp to hold his partner in place, to relearn the taste of his tongue. It’s heady and makes him fee delirious, warm and buzzing in his chest. Phainon wants, more than he has words for, idle texts enough to stir a soft desire that grows all the more intense and desperate the more they kiss. Everything else fades from his mind.
Groaning, he leans back, kissing Cat’s jaw gently, tasting his skin. ]
My room is this way. [ He wants to be pushed against a door, a bed, cushioned, to see and touch this man, to learn. He slides into the familiar role of desired man, of someone flush with want and need, prickling with sensation, unable to hide how it floods him and makes him feel messy and dirty. It’s not a bad feeling, at least, breathing out a harsh noise as he pushes his own door open.
Whatever Cat plans, he’ll take it and run, learn, learn how to take this new world in stride. ]
[ The Cat's desire is powerful and loud, more intense than he expected it to be before he'd arrived here, but with the taste of Phainon's mouth and the feeling of his flesh under his hands, the Cat is understandably drowning in the memory of their last time together, of the barely restrained need for more in both of them when they'd parted and the heat that had remained in his body even hours later. Indulging in it now feels like he's being rewarded for his patience, even though said patience barely lasted a day.
He doesn't even take the parting of their mouths as Phainon removes his shirt all that well, forcing him to relinquish his hand in his hair and encouraging a petulant, impatient little chirp from his chest around the purr that's starting to build. Luckily it's soothed almost instantly by the warm expanse of flesh available, fingers eagerly mapping the shape of him before his eyes can — the indent of his scars, the hills and troughs of his muscles. Since he's been in an apartment with a similar layout to this one, he can guess where Phainon is leading him, so starts to push him with eager little presses of his body against his, kisses meandering from his mouth to his jaw, his throat and back again.
The Cat drops his fur somewhere in the confines of Phainon's room, not totally conscious of the fact that Phainon is trying to be considerate of his roommate but instinctually aware that he probably shouldn't leave a trail of clothes lying around if only because it'll be a fucking pain to pick them up later. The Cat pushes Phainon to sit on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to catch his breath, but the look in his eyes is that of a panther in tall grass, eyes wide and focused, attention pinned to the way Phainon looks, diffused with flushed skin and eyes blown wide with want. ]
You look... [ He says, voice deep but quiet, sounding not entirely dissimilar from how someone might talk about some masterful sculpture, some great work of art. ] Gorgeous. [ He leans down, kissing him deeply, forcing his body into the space between his legs, hands cupping his cheeks. ]
There's no better sight than a man who wants something. [ Hands slide down onto his chest, claws against skin, harder than might be expected for all that reverence in his voice. He sounds like he's handling something precious, but his touch is harder than that, testing something he knows won't break. ] And no better feeling... than knowing you can give it to him.
[ There's something dangerously heady about the way that they give in to each other, still practically strangers as they pull at clothes and keep kissing, devouring each other and doing whatever they want. It is fit for purpose, of course, and Phainon can't deny that he appreciates being able to do something to make sure his wish is granted, but he's shocked by how easy it is. To give into the urge for something more, to allow himself to bubble and burn with want and desire, all without expectation?
It thrills him.
Stumbling back into his bed, Phainon lets himself settle, lifting his head to gaze at the man before him. There's a small part of him that wants to test the waters, to see what might happen if he attempts to take control, to wrestle it away from the Cat and take charge himself. He could grab him, shove him down, clamber onto his lap and let himself explore, hands along his body, searching for all the places that make the Cat desperate and wanton. It almost feels as if it would be too easy; he's confident in his ability to lift and move Cat if needed. He is strong enough.
He doesn't, though, eyes dark, lifting his head to press into the kiss, turning into the touch to his face, anchored and feeling good for it. When he speaks, his voice is soft and deep, cheeks bright gold with his pleasure, the way he gazes at the Cat a sure sign of how much he wants this. ]
What do you think I want today, Cat? [ His hand rises, curling in his hair, pulling him close again. ] What do you plan on teaching me, here in the privacy of my bedroom?
[ The purr already rumbling through him at the feeling of a responsive body so close and so eager to be touched and to touch in return pitches louder still as Phainon pushes fingers into his hair. He musses the dark curls when he drags him in, and the Cat has to put real focus into not turning his head into the touch and mewling as he comes close.
Phainon's words settle like warm honey across his senses, but he retains enough focus to think about his answer, casting his mind back to what Phainon had said over text, what he was like the first time they met, how he'd confessed to wanting to requite and how he'd been so very eager to please with it.
Logically, it would make sense to offer him the indulgence of that same desire now, having heard him ask for it with his own voice, but with this new angle of tutelage, the Cat feels a little more daring than simply giving in to that surface level need. With sharp claws that long to puncture, to dip into something that might take his mind off the thoughts swirling around in it, he wants something deeper, so he reaches down with one hand to palm between Phainon's legs, his other hand pressing in at the very center of his chest, pushing him until he's laying flat on his back. ]
I think you want whatever I can give to you. Whatever it is you'll take it, because you're starving for it.
[ His fingers tense at both points of contact on Phainon's body; one hand feeling the shape of his cock, the other raising to find one of his nipples, fingers squeezing the sensitive skin around it. ]
I want to spoil you. I want to make you selfish. If there's anyone that can lead by example with that kind of thing, it's a creature like me. Will you let me teach you to listen to your body so that it gets exactly what it wants?
[ Phainon can give into the kisses and the touches because he’s being led, guided to a destination with a careful hand. Kissing Cat is an easy, heady thing because there doesn’t need to be emotion attached to it, doesn’t need to worry about the guilt or grief that haunts his very being. He is not stuck thinking of death and destruction at his own hands - rather, the pleasured touch that comes from another, that makes his body feel alive.
It should all be easy, and in a way it is. He can stop his thoughts from devouring him and wrestle his pain to push it aside, to kiss and be kissed. Mindless, easy lust, as good and novel as a fight - and he had so loved fighting. He had told a dear friend it once, laughed at how Mydeimos had said fighting was a way of freeing himself of duty, however briefly. Sex could be the same, a liberation in its own way.
Leaning back, feeling decadent, he pauses to lick his lips and stare at Cat.
The request feels, oddly, like too much. The idea of being selfish and sating his own desires is simply impossible, and he doesn’t even know where he’d begin. It would steal his voice and make him look a fool for it, and that could be no worse a turn off in a situation like this. He could play around with the assumption of inexperience and get away with it, but that seems wrong too, somehow. There’s no good answer.
So, instead, he laughs, hoarse and caught in his throat. ]
I will gladly take whatever it is you give me. [ That, he can do. ] I told you that I’d like to learn. I’m starting to wonder if I’m entirely at your mercy.
[ That little pause is fascinating for the complete enigma it makes of this already somewhat difficult to pin down man. The Cat had thought him shy at first, but then he shows a hunger and need, like there's another consciousness in him only breaking the surface of the water when his want gets too large for his body to hold alone. The way he'd held the Cat's body with strong arms, the way he'd bitten him. And now, he's staring at him with a strange expression the Cat can't place, laughing like Cat just stuck a claw deep between his ribs. Fascinating. ]
When we were together in the ballroom, [ The Cat says, so quiet and so commonplace that it could be mistaken for casual if not for the way his fingers are pressing into fabric and skin, visualising the shape of him and the sight of his body in a way he couldn't do when he was pressed tight against him in his lap. ] You said you'd enjoy yourself more if you could touch me too.
[ He's played the moment around and around in his mind since it happened, so he can recall it with almost perfect clarity now. The way Phainon had leaned in close, whispered, laughed. His hand firms, squeezing as if in parting, before slipping inside his sweats to feel him closer. ]
Do you think you would've been unsatisfied if I hadn't let you?
[ Trying to be selfish, trying to grasp things on his own, still feels so impossible and so, so strange. Phainon had fought for so many years to be what people wanted, ordained by the stars himself, from a young age. He can remember, in his first lifetime, Cyrene drawing the Deliverer card and offering it as his future, and it had meant so little to him back then. Now, that mantle is absolutely everything, impossible to put down.
Even when no one knows who he is, Phainon struggles to ignore who he had been, in a world so remote from this one. The fact that his friends remember him now is nothing short of a miracle.
Nodding, he breathes out softly. ]
I did. I remember. [ His body reacts to the touch, yearning for more, unable to stop staring at this man. It's nice, to be able to just listen, to follow a lead and do what he needs to do. To slip into being commanded. ] I like to bring others pleasure. I don't think that's a surprise.
[ Shaking his head, he leans back a little, groaning softly. ]
I'd have been disappointed, but I don't doubt the satisfaction.
[ The Cat's eyes tighten. Such a careful answer, and the way he reacts to the touch makes the Cat think of starvation, of thirst, of a man knowing there's relief to be had and imagining it on his tongue before he's tasted it. Phainon bleeds desire into his surroundings; both the intensity of feeling and the desire to do well, to please, to bring others pleasure as he said... The Cat's mind spins, and it feels good. To think about this man and this man only, not anyone or anything else, just for now. A much needed reprieve. ]
And what if I took your hands now?
[ He asks without really asking, already imagining how this body might look straining against binds, muscle flexing under his paws. He shifts closer, angling his hand to grip firm at the tip of his cock beneath his underwear and pulling tight, as if to draw his attention. As if it's strayed anywhere other than him this entire time. ]
What if what I want is to drive you to beg for it? [ The hand on Phainon's chest wanders up, pressing fingers in against his clavicle and then up, along his thrumming pulse. ] I want to pull you apart, till you cant think a single thought other than how badly you want me to let you come.
[ There's no hiding the way that Phainon wants, but it isn't as simple as desire. His yearning is deeper, down to his bones, in his very blood, staining his skin with gold when bitten or wounded. He wants to be good enough to earn his wish, wants to be able to prove himself in whatever mould he is being shoved into. This is a choice, at least, just as becoming the Deliverer had been, one that he hopes has a far better outcome than nightmares he had been through in the past. ]
You know that I would let you.
[ Phainon swallows.
A part of him yearns for it. To give up all his control, to switch off his mind, to not let himself overthink and push himself too hard. His eyes gaze at Cat, unflinching, wanton and filthy as he twitches, trying to keep himself still. Once again, he feels like prey caught in the hands of a predator, not sure if he should be grounding himself or running away.
He knows what his body wants, and that makes it easier. ]
[ The smile that flashes onto the Cat's face is wild and sharp, the faintest trace of sharpness in the straight line of his teeth visible beneath his scarred lip as he drags his lower one through his bite. That helpless submission lit ablaze by such a challenge makes him feel untethered. He wants to bite at that sweet mouth, make him gasp, strike a hand against his thigh and then dig in with his claws.
Instead, he leans over Phainon's body, hand slipping up to cup his throat in warm fingers and a warmer palm as he brings their mouths together in a deep kiss, not bothering to waste time not licking into his mouth and scraping his tongue along his canines, sucking at his tongue, groaning around it. His other hand retracts completely, coming to meet the air of the room around them, tingling faintly and clearly missing the warmth of Phainon's arousal, but the Cat can't let Phainon's bravado go untested. He squeezes faintly at his throat, giving him a chaste kiss before supplying him with his instructions. ]
Strip for me. I want to look at you.
[ I want, I want, I want. But he's already told Phainon what a greedy King he can be. ]
[ The kiss is heady, delicious, and Phainon sinks into it as easily and securely as he does a good fight, working through the motions, accepting his desire and his want. He can feel the want ripple through him and leave his skin feeling oversensitive, making his breathing come harder, making everything hit so much harder. He likes the Cat King, he likes the ease of their interactions, the burning need and want that needs nothing else to it.
There is no Deliverer, no Reaver, nothing but Phainon here, and Cat wants that. Wants what Phainon can give him.
Biting into the kiss, he groans softly, chasing the other man's mouth as he leans away, wanting more. The pressure around his throat shouldn't be as alluring as it is, but Phainon is beginning to recognise the things that he enjoys the most do not always make the most sense to him. Not anymore.
Already without a real shirt, already hard, all Phainon can do is nod, wiggling back to push his sweatpants down and away. There are boxers underneath, pale blue and comfortable, and his cock is already straining them. ]
[ As he leans back to watch Phainon undress, part of the Cat feels alive with the threat of his defiance seeing the other man still covered by fabric, but another part of him is inspired by some wicked rambling thought that he's helpless now to not see through. He somehow tears his eyes away from the eager reach of Phainon's cock tenting his boxers, dragging his gaze up his body so slow it might as well leave scorch marks in its wake. He rests golden focus on the other man's face, and exhales a slow, shuddering breath. ]
The way you look, Phainon... [ He groans, quiet, his purr like far away thunder. ] I don't know how I'll resist not eating you alive.
[ And then he leans in once more, but instead of kissing the other man's mouth, his lips make contact with his throat, a patch of soft skin between his own fingers, which fast move to tip Phainon's head upwards so he can kiss more of his neck, his jaw, beneath his ear, along his collar bones. He stops with his chin on his sternum, watching his skin flush beneath his contact, almost mesmerised by it. Almost. ]
I want you to put your hands above your head and keep them there. If you don't, I have magic that can restrain you. I'm not above putting a puppy in a collar if I need to, but I want to at least give you an opportunity to be good first.
[ Phainon is accustomed to being watched, to having eyes on him. He is used to his attempts to be a hero, to do all that he can to carry a mantle and be strong enough, to have eyes turn to him in adoration and celebration. This feels different, the drag of Cat's gaze enough to make him feel as if he is walking through lava, wading through the hottest of bathing rooms or sliding into an inferno. It feels dangerous.
It is, perhaps, especially with the way he purrs, the way he stares, as true to his name in action as he is in sound. It's almost funny, Phainon thinks, how he seems to be collecting cats into his closest of companions.
Tilting his head, he bares his neck, tattoo a soft, light sun against his skin. He enjoys the thrill of it, a mouth against him, the threat or promise of a bite. He wants more, an allure he simply cannot deny, even as he tries to maintain a pace to his breathing, to try and be as unaffected as possible. ]
Collaring me feels like it's becoming habit.
[ So he says, with a choker around his neck as close to a collar already.
Shifting back on the bed, he wiggles into position, lifting his arms up and baring his entire body in a flex. Strong arms, tight chest littered with scars, skin flushed a warm gold; Phainon knows he looks a picture. At least he can keep himself together for a little longer, resist the urge to sink in and completely lose himself. ]
Mmm. You must look good in one. I doubt it's out of any effort to keep you obedient.
[ The Cat doesn't call him needy, greedy, eager in words, but the way his smile curls says it all for him. His eyes flicker over Phainon's choker, over the tattoo on his neck, over the place he'd held his fingers moments before. It's maddening to want so much all at once, and he does his best to remind himself this surely won't be the last time he and Phainon fall into bed, but... but that doesn't make it any easier to resist him. Especially not as he stretches back like that, as the line of muscle running down from his biceps to his shoulders and chest tightens into a delicious line the Cat wants to feel with his tongue. ]
No-one's made a habit of cuffing you, then? I guess no-one's been so self-sacrificing as to take that pleasure away from themselves, hm....
[ He hisses a breath in through his teeth and bites back his own lip again, studying the sight before him like a starving man might study a banquet, trying to pick where it might be best to start when he simply wants it all. He leans in, prowling closer so that his body hovers over Phainon's, tongue touching his sternum first and then moving down. He isn't slow, but his pace is measured, teeth and lips and tongue catching at his skin, lapping his rough tongue across a scar here or a patch of firm flesh there, biting at the edge of a muscle, nibbling at the softer areas. He trails his tongue, wet and hungry, across Phainon's nipple before leaving a bruising half bite half kiss just beneath it.
All the while his hands reach down, seeking out the soft patch of flesh leading down to the waistband of Phainon's boxers. But he doesn't reach inside, not quite yet. Instead, claws drag across the fabric and over the twitching shape of the other man's cock, but continue down to his thighs rather than stopping, leaving hot pink lines in their wake as they press down to mark him. ]
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i'm just inspired by the idea of helping you hone your skills. testing you, if you're so untested, like you say. i'm sure i'll have a trick or two up my sleeve you've never seen before
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... fuck.
you don't have a roommate, do you?
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can i come over?
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where do you live? what apartment number?
... though. okay. i was being a little over eager earlier when i said i can teleport straight to you. i have to have already been somewhere to use my power to get there again. so. you'll have to let me in
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The Sienna. 33. I’ll wait for you at the door.
> action
He spots Phainon waiting and approaches with barely restrained haste, feeling weirdly pedestrian doing something so simple while there's an arousal simmering in him hot enough that his skin feels stiflingly warm under the fur of his coat; like the simple sheer shirt and slacks combo he's wearing beneath is simply too stifling for comfort.
It's easy, then, to push him inside like he owns the place once he gets close enough to, delighting in the contact of hands on a warm body near instantaneously, almost refusing to let him close the door because he's so intent on touching him, hands splaying across his chest. ]
Please tell me you don't have some kind of no sex in the apartment rule I'm tempting you into breaking.
[ Look he's... just making sure. He really can't keep doing that. ]
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He is a warrior, a soldier who has fought endlessly for a better world, who could, with his strength, lift this man and move him if he wanted, and yet Phainon finds ease and comfort in the knowledge that Cat will lead him, guide him, show him an easier way. He doesn’t have to think, or overthink, doesn’t have to let his mind wander to the deep dark places he’s more familiar with, only has to listen to what this man has to say and reply as honestly as he can.
It’s why he laughs at the first words out of his mouth, thinking of how he has crawled into Mydeimos’ bed when the Cat’s marks on his neck and taken him into his mouth so jealously and covetously. It would be hard to enforce that kind of rule when he and Mydei permitted themselves the occasional indulgence, his heart raw and battered at the comfort being around his best friend offers. ]
No, there’s no agreement like that.
[ Phainon kicks the door shut and, unable to resist, leans up to steal a kiss, slotting their mouths together and tilting his head to deepen it as quickly as he can. ]
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The Cat he is now feels unchained, delighted by the fact that he's got a warm body against him, under his paws, when he honestly thought he was looking forward to a night alone and maybe a few dirty texts to keep him company, if he was lucky. And though this fun little toy he's been batting around inside his mind since the evening of the ball certainly isn't ready to go out in the world and sext with any particularly staggering results, the arousal thrumming through the Cat from just his few messages is certainly nothing to sniff at. ]
Mmh— fuck— [ He'd been planning to say something in the moment between their kiss where he takes a breath, probably ask where the bedroom is or something similar, but the loss of Phainon's mouth on his makes his claws and teeth feel sharp, so he fast hooks a hand at the back of the other man's neck to keep him close as he repairs their kiss once more, teeth against his tongue, against his lips. His other hand finds the hem of whatever shirt he's wearing — fuck, he didn't even look at him beyond his face when he arrived, the man could literally be wearing anything — and wrestles beneath it, getting skin on skin with the urgency of a man who needs this in order to breathe. ]
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Keeping hold of his shirt is easy, if only so he can avoid questions later.
He has to pause along the way to let himself sink into the kiss, to lift a hand to scratch through hair and scalp to hold his partner in place, to relearn the taste of his tongue. It’s heady and makes him fee delirious, warm and buzzing in his chest. Phainon wants, more than he has words for, idle texts enough to stir a soft desire that grows all the more intense and desperate the more they kiss. Everything else fades from his mind.
Groaning, he leans back, kissing Cat’s jaw gently, tasting his skin. ]
My room is this way. [ He wants to be pushed against a door, a bed, cushioned, to see and touch this man, to learn. He slides into the familiar role of desired man, of someone flush with want and need, prickling with sensation, unable to hide how it floods him and makes him feel messy and dirty. It’s not a bad feeling, at least, breathing out a harsh noise as he pushes his own door open.
Whatever Cat plans, he’ll take it and run, learn, learn how to take this new world in stride. ]
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He doesn't even take the parting of their mouths as Phainon removes his shirt all that well, forcing him to relinquish his hand in his hair and encouraging a petulant, impatient little chirp from his chest around the purr that's starting to build. Luckily it's soothed almost instantly by the warm expanse of flesh available, fingers eagerly mapping the shape of him before his eyes can — the indent of his scars, the hills and troughs of his muscles. Since he's been in an apartment with a similar layout to this one, he can guess where Phainon is leading him, so starts to push him with eager little presses of his body against his, kisses meandering from his mouth to his jaw, his throat and back again.
The Cat drops his fur somewhere in the confines of Phainon's room, not totally conscious of the fact that Phainon is trying to be considerate of his roommate but instinctually aware that he probably shouldn't leave a trail of clothes lying around if only because it'll be a fucking pain to pick them up later. The Cat pushes Phainon to sit on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to catch his breath, but the look in his eyes is that of a panther in tall grass, eyes wide and focused, attention pinned to the way Phainon looks, diffused with flushed skin and eyes blown wide with want. ]
You look... [ He says, voice deep but quiet, sounding not entirely dissimilar from how someone might talk about some masterful sculpture, some great work of art. ] Gorgeous. [ He leans down, kissing him deeply, forcing his body into the space between his legs, hands cupping his cheeks. ]
There's no better sight than a man who wants something. [ Hands slide down onto his chest, claws against skin, harder than might be expected for all that reverence in his voice. He sounds like he's handling something precious, but his touch is harder than that, testing something he knows won't break. ] And no better feeling... than knowing you can give it to him.
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It thrills him.
Stumbling back into his bed, Phainon lets himself settle, lifting his head to gaze at the man before him. There's a small part of him that wants to test the waters, to see what might happen if he attempts to take control, to wrestle it away from the Cat and take charge himself. He could grab him, shove him down, clamber onto his lap and let himself explore, hands along his body, searching for all the places that make the Cat desperate and wanton. It almost feels as if it would be too easy; he's confident in his ability to lift and move Cat if needed. He is strong enough.
He doesn't, though, eyes dark, lifting his head to press into the kiss, turning into the touch to his face, anchored and feeling good for it. When he speaks, his voice is soft and deep, cheeks bright gold with his pleasure, the way he gazes at the Cat a sure sign of how much he wants this. ]
What do you think I want today, Cat? [ His hand rises, curling in his hair, pulling him close again. ] What do you plan on teaching me, here in the privacy of my bedroom?
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Phainon's words settle like warm honey across his senses, but he retains enough focus to think about his answer, casting his mind back to what Phainon had said over text, what he was like the first time they met, how he'd confessed to wanting to requite and how he'd been so very eager to please with it.
Logically, it would make sense to offer him the indulgence of that same desire now, having heard him ask for it with his own voice, but with this new angle of tutelage, the Cat feels a little more daring than simply giving in to that surface level need. With sharp claws that long to puncture, to dip into something that might take his mind off the thoughts swirling around in it, he wants something deeper, so he reaches down with one hand to palm between Phainon's legs, his other hand pressing in at the very center of his chest, pushing him until he's laying flat on his back. ]
I think you want whatever I can give to you. Whatever it is you'll take it, because you're starving for it.
[ His fingers tense at both points of contact on Phainon's body; one hand feeling the shape of his cock, the other raising to find one of his nipples, fingers squeezing the sensitive skin around it. ]
I want to spoil you. I want to make you selfish. If there's anyone that can lead by example with that kind of thing, it's a creature like me. Will you let me teach you to listen to your body so that it gets exactly what it wants?
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It should all be easy, and in a way it is. He can stop his thoughts from devouring him and wrestle his pain to push it aside, to kiss and be kissed. Mindless, easy lust, as good and novel as a fight - and he had so loved fighting. He had told a dear friend it once, laughed at how Mydeimos had said fighting was a way of freeing himself of duty, however briefly. Sex could be the same, a liberation in its own way.
Leaning back, feeling decadent, he pauses to lick his lips and stare at Cat.
The request feels, oddly, like too much. The idea of being selfish and sating his own desires is simply impossible, and he doesn’t even know where he’d begin. It would steal his voice and make him look a fool for it, and that could be no worse a turn off in a situation like this. He could play around with the assumption of inexperience and get away with it, but that seems wrong too, somehow. There’s no good answer.
So, instead, he laughs, hoarse and caught in his throat. ]
I will gladly take whatever it is you give me. [ That, he can do. ] I told you that I’d like to learn. I’m starting to wonder if I’m entirely at your mercy.
[ Flirt, and play. It makes it easier. ]
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When we were together in the ballroom, [ The Cat says, so quiet and so commonplace that it could be mistaken for casual if not for the way his fingers are pressing into fabric and skin, visualising the shape of him and the sight of his body in a way he couldn't do when he was pressed tight against him in his lap. ] You said you'd enjoy yourself more if you could touch me too.
[ He's played the moment around and around in his mind since it happened, so he can recall it with almost perfect clarity now. The way Phainon had leaned in close, whispered, laughed. His hand firms, squeezing as if in parting, before slipping inside his sweats to feel him closer. ]
Do you think you would've been unsatisfied if I hadn't let you?
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Even when no one knows who he is, Phainon struggles to ignore who he had been, in a world so remote from this one. The fact that his friends remember him now is nothing short of a miracle.
Nodding, he breathes out softly. ]
I did. I remember. [ His body reacts to the touch, yearning for more, unable to stop staring at this man. It's nice, to be able to just listen, to follow a lead and do what he needs to do. To slip into being commanded. ] I like to bring others pleasure. I don't think that's a surprise.
[ Shaking his head, he leans back a little, groaning softly. ]
I'd have been disappointed, but I don't doubt the satisfaction.
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And what if I took your hands now?
[ He asks without really asking, already imagining how this body might look straining against binds, muscle flexing under his paws. He shifts closer, angling his hand to grip firm at the tip of his cock beneath his underwear and pulling tight, as if to draw his attention. As if it's strayed anywhere other than him this entire time. ]
What if what I want is to drive you to beg for it? [ The hand on Phainon's chest wanders up, pressing fingers in against his clavicle and then up, along his thrumming pulse. ] I want to pull you apart, till you cant think a single thought other than how badly you want me to let you come.
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You know that I would let you.
[ Phainon swallows.
A part of him yearns for it. To give up all his control, to switch off his mind, to not let himself overthink and push himself too hard. His eyes gaze at Cat, unflinching, wanton and filthy as he twitches, trying to keep himself still. Once again, he feels like prey caught in the hands of a predator, not sure if he should be grounding himself or running away.
He knows what his body wants, and that makes it easier. ]
You'll have to work hard to get me to beg, Cat.
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Instead, he leans over Phainon's body, hand slipping up to cup his throat in warm fingers and a warmer palm as he brings their mouths together in a deep kiss, not bothering to waste time not licking into his mouth and scraping his tongue along his canines, sucking at his tongue, groaning around it. His other hand retracts completely, coming to meet the air of the room around them, tingling faintly and clearly missing the warmth of Phainon's arousal, but the Cat can't let Phainon's bravado go untested. He squeezes faintly at his throat, giving him a chaste kiss before supplying him with his instructions. ]
Strip for me. I want to look at you.
[ I want, I want, I want. But he's already told Phainon what a greedy King he can be. ]
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There is no Deliverer, no Reaver, nothing but Phainon here, and Cat wants that. Wants what Phainon can give him.
Biting into the kiss, he groans softly, chasing the other man's mouth as he leans away, wanting more. The pressure around his throat shouldn't be as alluring as it is, but Phainon is beginning to recognise the things that he enjoys the most do not always make the most sense to him. Not anymore.
Already without a real shirt, already hard, all Phainon can do is nod, wiggling back to push his sweatpants down and away. There are boxers underneath, pale blue and comfortable, and his cock is already straining them. ]
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The way you look, Phainon... [ He groans, quiet, his purr like far away thunder. ] I don't know how I'll resist not eating you alive.
[ And then he leans in once more, but instead of kissing the other man's mouth, his lips make contact with his throat, a patch of soft skin between his own fingers, which fast move to tip Phainon's head upwards so he can kiss more of his neck, his jaw, beneath his ear, along his collar bones. He stops with his chin on his sternum, watching his skin flush beneath his contact, almost mesmerised by it. Almost. ]
I want you to put your hands above your head and keep them there. If you don't, I have magic that can restrain you. I'm not above putting a puppy in a collar if I need to, but I want to at least give you an opportunity to be good first.
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It is, perhaps, especially with the way he purrs, the way he stares, as true to his name in action as he is in sound. It's almost funny, Phainon thinks, how he seems to be collecting cats into his closest of companions.
Tilting his head, he bares his neck, tattoo a soft, light sun against his skin. He enjoys the thrill of it, a mouth against him, the threat or promise of a bite. He wants more, an allure he simply cannot deny, even as he tries to maintain a pace to his breathing, to try and be as unaffected as possible. ]
Collaring me feels like it's becoming habit.
[ So he says, with a choker around his neck as close to a collar already.
Shifting back on the bed, he wiggles into position, lifting his arms up and baring his entire body in a flex. Strong arms, tight chest littered with scars, skin flushed a warm gold; Phainon knows he looks a picture. At least he can keep himself together for a little longer, resist the urge to sink in and completely lose himself. ]
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[ The Cat doesn't call him needy, greedy, eager in words, but the way his smile curls says it all for him. His eyes flicker over Phainon's choker, over the tattoo on his neck, over the place he'd held his fingers moments before. It's maddening to want so much all at once, and he does his best to remind himself this surely won't be the last time he and Phainon fall into bed, but... but that doesn't make it any easier to resist him. Especially not as he stretches back like that, as the line of muscle running down from his biceps to his shoulders and chest tightens into a delicious line the Cat wants to feel with his tongue. ]
No-one's made a habit of cuffing you, then? I guess no-one's been so self-sacrificing as to take that pleasure away from themselves, hm....
[ He hisses a breath in through his teeth and bites back his own lip again, studying the sight before him like a starving man might study a banquet, trying to pick where it might be best to start when he simply wants it all. He leans in, prowling closer so that his body hovers over Phainon's, tongue touching his sternum first and then moving down. He isn't slow, but his pace is measured, teeth and lips and tongue catching at his skin, lapping his rough tongue across a scar here or a patch of firm flesh there, biting at the edge of a muscle, nibbling at the softer areas. He trails his tongue, wet and hungry, across Phainon's nipple before leaving a bruising half bite half kiss just beneath it.
All the while his hands reach down, seeking out the soft patch of flesh leading down to the waistband of Phainon's boxers. But he doesn't reach inside, not quite yet. Instead, claws drag across the fabric and over the twitching shape of the other man's cock, but continue down to his thighs rather than stopping, leaving hot pink lines in their wake as they press down to mark him. ]
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