[ 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. ]
It was a stylistic choice. Lady Aglaea was quite intent in my fashion choices.
[ But Cat isn't wrong. Phainon is good at following orders; he goes where directed, and does what he can to take the load away from others. He had tried to walk the path of Strife time and time again to save Mydeimos from the pain of it, and he had failed to overcome his own grief and regrets. Trying to work through that need to please and his own desires in this world is a slippery slope, but he is getting there, slowly but surely.
Now, completely at Cat's mercy, he feels as if his heart is going to race out of his chest and burn away. Phainon has to try and keep still, to be obedient and take more of what Cat is giving him, even if he feels a little at odds about it. His desire to return pleasure, to make sure that the person with him is equally taken care of, feels rebellious; he has to do what he is told, but being the utter centre of someone's focus is a strange and uncertain thing.
He's not sure how to handle it at all.
Breathless, he shakes his head, eyes flickering closed. ]
I'm learning more about myself here than I had imagined I would.
[ Which is not a yes or a no, but it's probably enough.
It's hard to keep himself still, hard to stay settled under the weight of Cat's touch and his gaze, but he is doing everything within his power. His thighs feel like they're shaking, a gentle shiver rolling through him as he breathes out, eyes closing as he tries to calm his racing heart. ]
I should hope so. I think you'll learn a lot about other people on the way down that path, too.
[ Phainon is clearly the self-sacrificing type himself, and though the Cat can't even begin to describe how much he enjoys the intensity and the dedication of his need to please, it only makes the Cat that much more curious to see what he'll do when that familiar position is taken away. He wonders if it's because he's afraid he'll like it too much, or if perhaps he's just not used to the spotlight being entirely on him. Is he wondering why the Cat would want this? Is he floundering, despite the fact that this is merely his own manner turned back to face him?
So many questions and so much curiosity burns in the Cat and threatens to distract him from the task at hand, but as Phainon's thighs quiver under his paws, he finds he can't think of anything else but driving more subtle reactions out of him just like that one. ]
Your hands feel good. You're a studious and giving lover. And you're really, really fucking hot, which only helps. [ The Cat says, mouth hot and sharp against Phainon's skin before he gives his chest another bite to match the lingering mark on the other side; nipping him, sucking hard, pulling back so the flesh drags between his teeth, hoping to bruise. ] But you drive me just as crazy laying here wanting my dick as you do touching it.
[ The Cat presses his own thighs together, just so he can feel the weight of his cock pressed between them, humming a pleased sound as his own eyes flicker closed for one blissful moment. He's just as hard as he would be if he were sitting on the edge of the bed with Phainon between his knees.
He moves his hand back up then, getting it inside Phainon's boxers in a swift and well-practiced movement, wrapping sharp claws around the familiar shape of him and starting to pull in even strokes, as he dips his head once more to trail his tongue in a long lap of friction down the very centre of the other man's chest. ]
I’ve always been interested in learning as much as I can about others.
[ It comes out a little breathless.
Phainon the lover of history, who enjoyed artefacts and stories and whatever existed in the past. It wars with Phainon the Deliverer, the man who fights with blood and teeth to save his world, who sacrifices all that he has time and time again in the vain hope the next time will be different. It feels as if there are too many pieces of himself inside and not enough methods to share them, to get it all out. He’s barely a man, running hot with coreflames burning him from the inside out.
Cat keeps teasing him, and his fingers flex where he holds them above his own head.
He wants more. Not just to touch, too tactile for his own good, but to feel as if he’s taking part. It feels wrong to be so utterly under the mercy of someone else, no matter how good each bite and swipe of tongue is. He can picture the soft bruises that’ll litter his skin, how he might touch them later and remember. He thinks if he tries to call Cat and moan down the line at him, blissful, he’d be welcome, and that too is a strange little thought to nest in his mind.
The hand on his cock has his hips jerking up, moaning softly. ]
I’m sure you say this to all the person you sleep with.
[ Not that Phainon doesn’t think of himself as handsome. He knows he is. He’s aware from how people treat him and he’s looked in a mirror - looked at himself enough times from a distance in his own memories that he’s not able to ignore it. It’s just nice to tease a little, not able to move his hands or touch with all the need bubbling inside him. He yearns, always has, and he has to fight against it.
[ Phainon and the Cat both. The Cat's curiosity has always felt like a living thing inside of him, always at the forefront of his mind and ever eager to be fed. And, somehow, it's always felt selfish despite the fact that it often manifests in wanting to know as much about a person as possible. The entire reason he crawled into Phainon's lap in the first place was out of curiosity to know more about him, to see what made him tick, what would make him come, as much as it was a desire to get off himself. Perhaps it would have been more selfish to push Phainon's hands under his skirt and let him have at it or drive him to his knees with a foot on his shoulder to keep him in place... but then he wouldn't be where he is now, knowing that Phainon wants more than anything to touch him and kiss him and feel the way his body reacts to his hands. Left shivering with the desire to do it but not the permission, restrained by nothing except his steadfast desire to do as he's told. ]
Aww, don't be like that. [ He smirks, clearly not taking Phainon's little tease seriously but enjoying the pantomime of it either way. His thumb rubs over Phainon's cockhead in a way that might almost be soothing if the pressure weren't so exact that it borders on too much. ] I'll have you know this is a tailored experience. Entirely unique to you and you only. I wouldn't use a script on you like that. Not on you.
[ Not on this man who whimpers so very sweetly for him. ]
Besides, [ The Cat says, as his mouth gets far enough down Phainon's body that it comes to meet where his hand is wrapped around Phainon's arousal. ] All the other people I fuck don't need their minds quietened nearly as much as you do, puppy.
[ He drags his tongue across the soft skin just below his navel, eyes pitched upwards and shining with eager intensity, never straying from Phainon's face, relying solely on instinct and periphery to move. His fucking mouth is watering being this close to his cock, his heat, and it leaves his sharp teeth feeling even sharper behind his lips. So he doesn't last long testing his own resistance; sooner rather than later he's swiping his tongue up Phainon's length as his hand moves down, tasting him with a shuddering groan. Phainon asked if he'd let him have it, and maybe he will, but Phainon needs to learn how to accept what's given to him first. ]
[ A part of him thinks he ought to rebel at how much Cat is reading him, as if he has dipped into his very psyche and pulled out the threads of his shivering mindset to keep for himself. His mind is a constant storm of thought and emotion, thousands upon millions of lifetimes of memories burning down on him and making him feel stuck. It's hard to find a means to shove it aside, to focus on the here and now, especially when some of those most dear to him are right there.
Phainon still considers himself utterly unworthy of it, and feeling the hands of someone who wants nothing more than to bring him pleasure and make him feel good does nothing to ease that burden. His fingers flex above his head, Phainon breathing out softly as he tilts his gaze up to look at Cat, to try and watch him and keep his wits together. It's hard, when all instinct inside of him is begging for him to give, to Deliver.
His thighs still twitch at each touch, and he worries his lip before he manages a smile. ]
You're making quite the assumption about my mind.
[ Not that it's a wrong assumption. His mind is a rollercoaster of thought and emotion, and it's a struggle to keep himself down, settled, quiet. He rebels against everything good, and his heart is thudding in his chest as he watches Cat touch him, tease him, give him so much. Breathless, his head tilts back as he moans softly, doing everything he can to keep himself anchored. ]
Am I? [ He purrs, lips a soft purse against the very tip of Phainon's cock as he watches him tip his head back, throat stretching beautifully, muscles tightening. He looks good enough to eat like this, and the Cat has only so much as licked him. Fuck. If he carries on like this, even the Cat's resolve might start to quake. ] Then prove me wrong.
[ He exhibits all the signs of one whose worth is tied to the effect he has on others, his usefulness, his ability to please the people around him... but if the Cat has him mistaken, then let Phainon lie back and be smug and enjoy having a King debase himself by being a tool for him.
Rather than giving Phainon a chance to prove it, however, the Cat merely huffs out an amused little breath and then applies his roughened tongue to that sensitive head again, lapping short but targeted feline licks across the slit, the ridge, the shaft, as his fingers start to move again, a slow rhythm in time with each lap of his tongue. His name sounds good in Phainon's voice, and Phainon's body looks good quivering with need beneath him. His cock is warm and eager against his tongue, and the Cat wants more of it. He could ask, of course, but he wonders if Phainon will give it readily without being prompted. He'd said, after all, the first time they'd met that he wasn't one for stealth. So in a place where it's just the two of them, with little stopping him from being loud, the Cat wonders... will he? ]
That's it, [ he prompts between a lascivious lick, tilting his chin down ever so slightly, but not so much that he sacrifices his view of Phainon's face, and never letting him enter his mouth more than a brief kiss of open lips. ] Now tell me what it feels like. Forget everything that isn't my mouth and my paws, and tell me.
There's some kind of irony to it, maybe; that the way he could prove Cat wrong is to grab him and flip him, to take control himself, to lower his hands and disobey, but he doesn't want to. There's something alluring about this, and he does feel that odd sensation of wanting to please, of wanting to do what is asked of him. It feels natural, and as he adjusts to being in this world and using his body as a tool for sex rather than war, it feels easier to let other people tell him what to do.
It doesn't help matters that Cat's mouth feels so good, a flick of the tongue over the head of his cock, the length, things that Phainon is familiar with from doing to others. He's had hands on him, he's had a mouth, but he prefers to be offering rather than taking, finding a joyful delight in being on his knees for those that he cares for. To see their pleasure pleases him... And it dawns on him, however briefly, that Cat might well have a point about what he's saying.
Trying to keep himself steady, to not thrust or grind up, to keep himself still, he squeezes his eyes tight and groans softly. ]
It feels good. [ His voice is low, and hoarse, edged with his pleasure. ] Warm? I want more.
[ He wants to tell Phainon he'll get what he's given, or ask him what he means by more, to spell it out in no uncertain terms, to beg for it and see if the King will acquiesce... but there's something about the way Phainon's voice has dipped, the way he still looks like he's about to shudder out of his skin, uncertain whether he wants to cling close or push away, like a man on the brink of overstimulation, that steals the Cat's words from him. At least for the moment.
His mouth pauses, the flat of his tongue paused on his cockhead as though he's reluctant to break contact, until he finally moves like a man whose dam of resistance has broken. ]
Fuck, Phainon... The way you look... The way you sound... [ He uses his free hand to tug Phainon's boxers down and off, surprised he's managed to keep him in them this long. It's not a complete surrender, not totally giving in, but the Cat is helpless to admit he's that much closer to letting the full body throb of his own arousal take the wheel, as he uses a touch of magic to transform his claws shorter and fingers mysteriously slick. ]
I know what you want, and I'll give it to you. But I need you to understand this before I do. [ His first two fingers push between Phainon's cheeks, finding his hole easily, circling it with insistent fingers full of the intention to do what the Cat is promising and give him what he wants. ] Hearing you say my name and moan for me has made me so hard that I could rut against the bed a few times and come. Do you hear me? You haven't touched me, and I could come gasping your name.
[ His other hand resumes its slide up and down Phainon's arousal, but his pace is a little tighter now, shifting in that figure eight that had inspired such wonderful reactions from Phainon at the ball. ] I wanted to pull you apart slowly and let you come down my throat, but you're driving me crazy. [ He sits up, shoulders curved like an animal might curl protectively around their meal, growling and hissing at any other who'd dare to get close, as his wandering fingers slide smoothly inside the other man. His voice is fucking trembling now. ] I can practically feel you holding back, but I'm telling you to stop. Fuck up into my hand. Let me make you come, and then I'll give you what you want.
[ Being under scrutiny is not unfamiliar, and Phainon knows how to act when the world is watching. He had stood and accepted the mantle of Heir, with his golden blood, so many times that the novelty of it might well have worn thin if his memories hadn't lapsed. To be the beacon to which people look, the mantle on which people hang their hopes - all of that is natural and familiar. But to burn under the warm gaze of someone who longs for something more personal is new enough that it unsettles him, something sharp in his gut.
The Cat can see it, can let his fingers slide through the pages of Phainon's mind, undoing him. He might not be able to parse the truth of it, the reasoning, the thoughts that linger in the back of his mind or the path that brings him there, but he knows it still. It should frustrate him, but with the burn of pleasure inside him and the relief of letting go, all he can feel is something softer and more content. This is why he is here, after all; this is his new purpose, his new resolve.
What he wants hangs in the balance between them, undeniable and impossible to ignore. Phainon likes to feel of use, to be wanted, to be claimed by something greater than himself, to find a future in it - and this is an easy thing to give. Let his heart bleed, and his eyes grow soft, with how easily he surrenders himself to the Cat's touch.
The last time he had bedded anyone like this, it had been quiet, as if afraid to break the soft peace between them, few words exchanged. Cat speaks without pause, no shame or hesitation, and Phainon is left wanting under his touch, left wishing for more as his body feels alive. He burns too hot, coreflames heavy inside of him, more alive due to the arousal and need than he is with his powers muted, and he can feel the way his golden blood rises to the surface. He is at this man's mercy, and he cannot find fault with it; he seeks his partner's pleasure, desperately.
Should it not be the same in return?
Knowing that the Cat is so pleased with him has him flushed, a prickle of tears in his eyes, and he swallows, trying to find the bare strength to reply, to let his tongue be less heavy with a well-deserved response. ]
You - I only -
[ There are no words, and there cannot be, when his heart feels too big for his chest and his cock so hard he might snap.
Instead, he does as asked, letting his hips roll and chase the pleasure, to give in. He wants to be fucked, he finds, to feel himself stretch, to be filled and taken. He wants the relief of it, to give over to someone else and not think, to erase the too heavy thoughts in his mind. It feels agonising to let his mind wander, so he simply doesn't; he slides into this moment with a breathless sound, cock twitching as he chases the high of it, teetering on an edge that he can't come back from. ]
[ It isn't like he sees the realisation dawn on Phainon exactly, but he certainly feels something shift in the air. Like the wind humming with the warning of a storm, the ground shaking with the threat of oncoming feet, the warmth of sunlight on closed eyes. And then to see him try to speak, tears sparkling in the corners of his pretty eyes, as his body follows the Cat King's guidance and starts to move, starts to chase pleasure just like the Cat King wanted him to right from the start... it's a stunning sight to behold. The Cat's purr gets as loud as a roar in his ears, his hand moving faster on Phainon's cock to get him there sooner — not impatient, but eager to see him feel his own pleasure as a singularity, excited to push him past the point of orgasm and then into real overstimulation, to get his reward for being so obedient in the form of the Cat truly, finally using him for his own pleasure.
He may well be a romantic, but he's not quite romantic enough to believe this has made any great strides in Phainon's approach to taking a partner with equal give and take in mind to bed, although it certainly will give him something to think about in the future. Perhaps the Cat can be a reminder. Perhaps the Cat can find his way between his legs and under his bedsheets again, time after time, to drive it home, to make a lasting impact in the shape of his paws and teeth, to make a mark-- ]
Phainon— [ He groans, fingers inside him questing deep, spearing and stretching and curving eagerly, certain he won't have any capability to get him worked open once Phainon does as he's told and so doing everything he can to not lose himself now in the sight of him bucking up into his hand and driving down onto his fingers. His own cock is straining between his legs, his very gums prickling with the desire to find the flesh of Phainon's throat and return the bite he gifted the Cat at the ball, right on the join between neck and shoulder. ] I want you to come. Come for me.
[ It is an easy command, but it stutters through his body all the same.
Phainon wants to resist and draw this out, to enjoy the pleasure a little more. It feels decadent in a way he can’t quite find the words for, so utterly under this man’s thumb that nothing else seems to matter, that nothing else holds any meaning. It feels dangerous, too, wanting so much, desiring so much, feeling the burn of pleasure inside him. His whole body feels slight, flame inside him desperate to come out, and if he doesn’t give in he’ll. break.
Worse than that. He’ll weep.
Shivering, fingers curling inside him, outside of him, around his cock and too deep, all he can do is moan. Cat has taken such good care of him, so careful at urging him forward, and Phainon wants this so deeply. He doesn’t even realise how his hands remain above his head, that he hasn’t moved to grab or grasp, just shudders as he sinks further and further down.
It feels like a trap, but it isn’t. It’s just sex. Nothing more than that.
When he comes, it’s with a quiet, low sound, dragged out of him before he sinks into the bed, lax and dirty from his own come staining him. His hips still rock all the same, wanting to be good, to take and take, greedily. What a strange beast he’s become. ]
[ And what a sight he makes slipping into the warm lure of sensation and bliss, of a pleasure that's all his; offered willingly, to be taken selfishly. The Cat had wondered what it might take to get him there when he'd first shown discomfort and resistance to the idea. What might it take to have him flourish like a rising phoenix under the burning gaze of the Cat's hungry adoration? Evidently just a partner determined enough to show it to him, one focused with the same selfish intensity on giving pleasure as he is in receiving it.
Pride spreads through him as a bead of sweat runs down the length of the Cat's spine, and with it comes the sure knowledge that he can't resist him much longer. Though it's tempting to let Phainon continue to fuck into his hand, to see how many times he can make him come if he simply never stops-- he's sure there'll be other times for such a thing. There'll be another opportunity when the Cat isn't so hungry for the body beneath him that he can take his time with more targeted accuracy; he's sure of it. Perhaps he can catch Phainon sometime when he's comfortable and familiar rather than electric and alive, when his mind is dulled by warm company and hands he knows will treat him well. Perhaps then he could have Phainon begging much quicker into his mouth, as his hand or his body works him over and over and over— ]
The things you make me think about... [ The Cat says, almost to himself again, eyes scanning the sight before him, the mess Phainon has made, mouth watering to clean it up but body focused on other, more pressing matters. ] You make me want to ravage you.
[ He slows his hand, then stops completely, drawing his dirty palm away so that he can click his fingers and disappear his clothing. It had been nice to be half-dressed and filthy in Phainon's lap, but his senses crave skin on skin. Then he uses the hand covered in the remnants of Phainon's release to slick his own cock, heavy and eager, before pressing it against his retracted fingers.
He thinks about giving Phainon time to come down from his afterglow, a moment to catch his breath, a second to adjust for the Cat to be inside him, but he simply cannot wait. His fingers retract, his cock pushes up, his body falls forward over Phainon so that his mouth can capture his in a kiss, drinking the first sound of being breached from him as he rocks forward and sinks into him. ]
[ It's hard to focus on what Cat is saying to him while he is still burning from the high of orgasm, the sharpness a pleasant taste in his mouth. Phainon thinks he can almost taste copper, as if he had been biting his lip as he lost himself to how good he feels. The way he has folded completely under Cat's touch should be embarrassing, but when it feels this good, it is hard to be ashamed. Later, in repose, he might question his sanity a little more, but for now?
There is only pleasure.
Mind fuzzy, he gazes at Cat, lax and content, body still alert. Something warm floods him, an understanding, perhaps. It does not have to be such a dangerous thing, to give into what he must for the sake of his wish. When it can feel like this, why shouldn't he allow himself it, why shouldn't he take it? It had felt the same with Mydeimos, but the weight of expectation and relationship there is something that he hadn't been prepared to probe too deeply over.
Lifting his gaze, he swallows, feeling overheated. ]
You could tell me them. [ It feels like a confession, somehow, whispered between them where no one else can hear. Phainon doesn't know Cat well, but he recognises that, in this, they can be genuine. It is sex, it is pleasure, and it does not need to be deeper than that, it does not need to be something that causes him the stress that it had, up to now. ] I'd like to hear them.
[ Even now, his hands haven't moved.
Phainon wants to reach out, to grasp, to hold on and not let go, but he doesn't. He watches Cat as he settles between his legs, as he presses inside him, taking and taking, and his moan is swallowed by the heat of their kiss. Fingers twitching, desperate to hold on and grab, all he can do is arch up, enjoying the burn of the stretch, the slight sting, the way it makes him feel as if he is being submerged. All his thoughts fade away, lost in pleasure and nothing else. ]
[ The sensation of sinking into a pliant body often eradicates thought from his mind in a similar way, but in the aftermath of Phainon's words, hushed and confessional, the Cat can't help the way his mind explodes into quick-fire thoughts considering a new perspective. Because the Cat has always been too intense and overwhelming for even those who claim to like that sort of thing, and while he hasn't learned to not be that way exactly, he has certainly come to hold himself back a little over the years. Coming off the back of having his heart broken very recently, he'd had no intention of risking the same burn of being too much again so soon, but...
But he'd encouraged Phainon to give in and feel, hadn't he? He'd shown him with firm and steadfast reassurance and tempting hands that he was in good company for it, that the Cat only wanted to see him wanting, and to watch him give in... Shouldn't the same be true in reverse? This is just sex; this is just something fun, there and then gone – but perhaps he can use his familiar intensity to his advantage, lean into it, and taste it even if only by mouthfuls, with a partner who is clearly so eager to know in return.
His cock gives a heavy, hungry throb, and the Cat pulls back from the kiss with a groan, a flash of his teeth in Phainon's lip, and a string of saliva connecting their mouths.
That slightly unfocused look in Phainon's eyes transforms his already beautiful face into something near angelic, and though the Cat knows full well it's down to the fact that Phainon is indulging – following his instructions and becoming soft and malleable under his paws – he finds himself completely rapt by the sight of it as he tries to concentrate on the feeling of his body. He lets himself adjust to Phainon's tightness, allowing the other man time to feel the way his cock makes his muscles stretch and to anticipate what it will feel like to be fucked by him before he gives it to him. ]
You've been such a good boy... I'll tell you anything you want to know. [ And he wants to. He wants to feed his desire; he wants to show it to Phainon, even if only the smallest amount of it that's palatable. He licks his lips, a smile growing, hands finding the soft flesh of Phainon's thighs and pinning him open, folding him, pressing him down. ] But first... [ His eyes flick up, and his smile turns knowing and smug. ] Put your arms around me. Hold on to me tight while I fuck you, and then we can see how long it takes me to lose all my words to how good you feel, hm?
[ The way that Phainon's mind feels fuzzy and utterly overwhelmed is new to him. He is accustomed to being honed and focussed, to the sharpness that comes with battle, the way that fighting distracts him from his innermost thoughts. This is completely different; rather than it being a harsh edge, it is like a warm blanket over his mind, his thoughts filtered out as pleasure bleeds in and leaves him wanting more. He has had good sex before (and likely will again), but surrendering has always been so difficult for him.
There's something about the way that Cat speaks to him, whispers to him, praises him that makes it easier to fall into the trap of letting go, of basking in the way that all the good feelings flood through him. His body feels warm, so hot that it might burn if he isn't careful, Coreflames in his chest brought back to life from sharing his body with another, and he doesn't have to bleed to do it. His fingers tingle from it, and he is breathless as their kiss breaks, his eyes dark as they turn to look at the man above him.
It's not as though he has given in completely, a pinprick of edge still there, under his skin. If threatened, Phainon could have a hand around his throat in a moment. He could prove to the Cat just how dangerous he can be, with his transformation burning under his skin and threatening to come through. He enjoys the feeling for now, licking his lips and chasing the taste of the kiss, wondering and wanting.
To be desired for who he is and not his mantle, his cause, his golden blood, is still a novelty.
Pressed, folded, moved, Phainon groans softly, feeling the slight stretch in his muscles, so novel and new. He can't remember the last time he was taken like this, mind searching through lifetimes as if he might be able to parse one, and he has to shove it aside before he loses his focus on the here and now. He is enjoying the feel of Cat's cock inside him, the warmth of his body around him, the timbre of his voice; all of it is good, and better than drawing nightmares back into his mind for no reason.
Nodding his head, he swallows. ]
Thank you. [ For the praise, he thinks, or for taking care of him, or for being good - Phainon isn't sure. His voice is a little hoarse, but his arms move, fingers flexing absently as they wrap around Cat and hold on, almost sinking into the new embrace. It's good; it all feels good. He's not even put off by the smugness, far to familiar with that particular trait to be offended. ]
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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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[ But Cat isn't wrong. Phainon is good at following orders; he goes where directed, and does what he can to take the load away from others. He had tried to walk the path of Strife time and time again to save Mydeimos from the pain of it, and he had failed to overcome his own grief and regrets. Trying to work through that need to please and his own desires in this world is a slippery slope, but he is getting there, slowly but surely.
Now, completely at Cat's mercy, he feels as if his heart is going to race out of his chest and burn away. Phainon has to try and keep still, to be obedient and take more of what Cat is giving him, even if he feels a little at odds about it. His desire to return pleasure, to make sure that the person with him is equally taken care of, feels rebellious; he has to do what he is told, but being the utter centre of someone's focus is a strange and uncertain thing.
He's not sure how to handle it at all.
Breathless, he shakes his head, eyes flickering closed. ]
I'm learning more about myself here than I had imagined I would.
[ Which is not a yes or a no, but it's probably enough.
It's hard to keep himself still, hard to stay settled under the weight of Cat's touch and his gaze, but he is doing everything within his power. His thighs feel like they're shaking, a gentle shiver rolling through him as he breathes out, eyes closing as he tries to calm his racing heart. ]
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[ Phainon is clearly the self-sacrificing type himself, and though the Cat can't even begin to describe how much he enjoys the intensity and the dedication of his need to please, it only makes the Cat that much more curious to see what he'll do when that familiar position is taken away. He wonders if it's because he's afraid he'll like it too much, or if perhaps he's just not used to the spotlight being entirely on him. Is he wondering why the Cat would want this? Is he floundering, despite the fact that this is merely his own manner turned back to face him?
So many questions and so much curiosity burns in the Cat and threatens to distract him from the task at hand, but as Phainon's thighs quiver under his paws, he finds he can't think of anything else but driving more subtle reactions out of him just like that one. ]
Your hands feel good. You're a studious and giving lover. And you're really, really fucking hot, which only helps. [ The Cat says, mouth hot and sharp against Phainon's skin before he gives his chest another bite to match the lingering mark on the other side; nipping him, sucking hard, pulling back so the flesh drags between his teeth, hoping to bruise. ] But you drive me just as crazy laying here wanting my dick as you do touching it.
[ The Cat presses his own thighs together, just so he can feel the weight of his cock pressed between them, humming a pleased sound as his own eyes flicker closed for one blissful moment. He's just as hard as he would be if he were sitting on the edge of the bed with Phainon between his knees.
He moves his hand back up then, getting it inside Phainon's boxers in a swift and well-practiced movement, wrapping sharp claws around the familiar shape of him and starting to pull in even strokes, as he dips his head once more to trail his tongue in a long lap of friction down the very centre of the other man's chest. ]
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[ It comes out a little breathless.
Phainon the lover of history, who enjoyed artefacts and stories and whatever existed in the past. It wars with Phainon the Deliverer, the man who fights with blood and teeth to save his world, who sacrifices all that he has time and time again in the vain hope the next time will be different. It feels as if there are too many pieces of himself inside and not enough methods to share them, to get it all out. He’s barely a man, running hot with coreflames burning him from the inside out.
Cat keeps teasing him, and his fingers flex where he holds them above his own head.
He wants more. Not just to touch, too tactile for his own good, but to feel as if he’s taking part. It feels wrong to be so utterly under the mercy of someone else, no matter how good each bite and swipe of tongue is. He can picture the soft bruises that’ll litter his skin, how he might touch them later and remember. He thinks if he tries to call Cat and moan down the line at him, blissful, he’d be welcome, and that too is a strange little thought to nest in his mind.
The hand on his cock has his hips jerking up, moaning softly. ]
I’m sure you say this to all the person you sleep with.
[ Not that Phainon doesn’t think of himself as handsome. He knows he is. He’s aware from how people treat him and he’s looked in a mirror - looked at himself enough times from a distance in his own memories that he’s not able to ignore it. It’s just nice to tease a little, not able to move his hands or touch with all the need bubbling inside him. He yearns, always has, and he has to fight against it.
It makes him whimper. ]
Are you going to let me have it this time?
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Aww, don't be like that. [ He smirks, clearly not taking Phainon's little tease seriously but enjoying the pantomime of it either way. His thumb rubs over Phainon's cockhead in a way that might almost be soothing if the pressure weren't so exact that it borders on too much. ] I'll have you know this is a tailored experience. Entirely unique to you and you only. I wouldn't use a script on you like that. Not on you.
[ Not on this man who whimpers so very sweetly for him. ]
Besides, [ The Cat says, as his mouth gets far enough down Phainon's body that it comes to meet where his hand is wrapped around Phainon's arousal. ] All the other people I fuck don't need their minds quietened nearly as much as you do, puppy.
[ He drags his tongue across the soft skin just below his navel, eyes pitched upwards and shining with eager intensity, never straying from Phainon's face, relying solely on instinct and periphery to move. His fucking mouth is watering being this close to his cock, his heat, and it leaves his sharp teeth feeling even sharper behind his lips. So he doesn't last long testing his own resistance; sooner rather than later he's swiping his tongue up Phainon's length as his hand moves down, tasting him with a shuddering groan. Phainon asked if he'd let him have it, and maybe he will, but Phainon needs to learn how to accept what's given to him first. ]
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Phainon still considers himself utterly unworthy of it, and feeling the hands of someone who wants nothing more than to bring him pleasure and make him feel good does nothing to ease that burden. His fingers flex above his head, Phainon breathing out softly as he tilts his gaze up to look at Cat, to try and watch him and keep his wits together. It's hard, when all instinct inside of him is begging for him to give, to Deliver.
His thighs still twitch at each touch, and he worries his lip before he manages a smile. ]
You're making quite the assumption about my mind.
[ Not that it's a wrong assumption. His mind is a rollercoaster of thought and emotion, and it's a struggle to keep himself down, settled, quiet. He rebels against everything good, and his heart is thudding in his chest as he watches Cat touch him, tease him, give him so much. Breathless, his head tilts back as he moans softly, doing everything he can to keep himself anchored. ]
Ah, Cat... Fuck.
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[ He exhibits all the signs of one whose worth is tied to the effect he has on others, his usefulness, his ability to please the people around him... but if the Cat has him mistaken, then let Phainon lie back and be smug and enjoy having a King debase himself by being a tool for him.
Rather than giving Phainon a chance to prove it, however, the Cat merely huffs out an amused little breath and then applies his roughened tongue to that sensitive head again, lapping short but targeted feline licks across the slit, the ridge, the shaft, as his fingers start to move again, a slow rhythm in time with each lap of his tongue. His name sounds good in Phainon's voice, and Phainon's body looks good quivering with need beneath him. His cock is warm and eager against his tongue, and the Cat wants more of it. He could ask, of course, but he wonders if Phainon will give it readily without being prompted. He'd said, after all, the first time they'd met that he wasn't one for stealth. So in a place where it's just the two of them, with little stopping him from being loud, the Cat wonders... will he? ]
That's it, [ he prompts between a lascivious lick, tilting his chin down ever so slightly, but not so much that he sacrifices his view of Phainon's face, and never letting him enter his mouth more than a brief kiss of open lips. ] Now tell me what it feels like. Forget everything that isn't my mouth and my paws, and tell me.
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There's some kind of irony to it, maybe; that the way he could prove Cat wrong is to grab him and flip him, to take control himself, to lower his hands and disobey, but he doesn't want to. There's something alluring about this, and he does feel that odd sensation of wanting to please, of wanting to do what is asked of him. It feels natural, and as he adjusts to being in this world and using his body as a tool for sex rather than war, it feels easier to let other people tell him what to do.
It doesn't help matters that Cat's mouth feels so good, a flick of the tongue over the head of his cock, the length, things that Phainon is familiar with from doing to others. He's had hands on him, he's had a mouth, but he prefers to be offering rather than taking, finding a joyful delight in being on his knees for those that he cares for. To see their pleasure pleases him... And it dawns on him, however briefly, that Cat might well have a point about what he's saying.
Trying to keep himself steady, to not thrust or grind up, to keep himself still, he squeezes his eyes tight and groans softly. ]
It feels good. [ His voice is low, and hoarse, edged with his pleasure. ] Warm? I want more.
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His mouth pauses, the flat of his tongue paused on his cockhead as though he's reluctant to break contact, until he finally moves like a man whose dam of resistance has broken. ]
Fuck, Phainon... The way you look... The way you sound... [ He uses his free hand to tug Phainon's boxers down and off, surprised he's managed to keep him in them this long. It's not a complete surrender, not totally giving in, but the Cat is helpless to admit he's that much closer to letting the full body throb of his own arousal take the wheel, as he uses a touch of magic to transform his claws shorter and fingers mysteriously slick. ]
I know what you want, and I'll give it to you. But I need you to understand this before I do. [ His first two fingers push between Phainon's cheeks, finding his hole easily, circling it with insistent fingers full of the intention to do what the Cat is promising and give him what he wants. ] Hearing you say my name and moan for me has made me so hard that I could rut against the bed a few times and come. Do you hear me? You haven't touched me, and I could come gasping your name.
[ His other hand resumes its slide up and down Phainon's arousal, but his pace is a little tighter now, shifting in that figure eight that had inspired such wonderful reactions from Phainon at the ball. ] I wanted to pull you apart slowly and let you come down my throat, but you're driving me crazy. [ He sits up, shoulders curved like an animal might curl protectively around their meal, growling and hissing at any other who'd dare to get close, as his wandering fingers slide smoothly inside the other man. His voice is fucking trembling now. ] I can practically feel you holding back, but I'm telling you to stop. Fuck up into my hand. Let me make you come, and then I'll give you what you want.
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The Cat can see it, can let his fingers slide through the pages of Phainon's mind, undoing him. He might not be able to parse the truth of it, the reasoning, the thoughts that linger in the back of his mind or the path that brings him there, but he knows it still. It should frustrate him, but with the burn of pleasure inside him and the relief of letting go, all he can feel is something softer and more content. This is why he is here, after all; this is his new purpose, his new resolve.
What he wants hangs in the balance between them, undeniable and impossible to ignore. Phainon likes to feel of use, to be wanted, to be claimed by something greater than himself, to find a future in it - and this is an easy thing to give. Let his heart bleed, and his eyes grow soft, with how easily he surrenders himself to the Cat's touch.
The last time he had bedded anyone like this, it had been quiet, as if afraid to break the soft peace between them, few words exchanged. Cat speaks without pause, no shame or hesitation, and Phainon is left wanting under his touch, left wishing for more as his body feels alive. He burns too hot, coreflames heavy inside of him, more alive due to the arousal and need than he is with his powers muted, and he can feel the way his golden blood rises to the surface. He is at this man's mercy, and he cannot find fault with it; he seeks his partner's pleasure, desperately.
Should it not be the same in return?
Knowing that the Cat is so pleased with him has him flushed, a prickle of tears in his eyes, and he swallows, trying to find the bare strength to reply, to let his tongue be less heavy with a well-deserved response. ]
You - I only -
[ There are no words, and there cannot be, when his heart feels too big for his chest and his cock so hard he might snap.
Instead, he does as asked, letting his hips roll and chase the pleasure, to give in. He wants to be fucked, he finds, to feel himself stretch, to be filled and taken. He wants the relief of it, to give over to someone else and not think, to erase the too heavy thoughts in his mind. It feels agonising to let his mind wander, so he simply doesn't; he slides into this moment with a breathless sound, cock twitching as he chases the high of it, teetering on an edge that he can't come back from. ]
- whatever you wish. I will do it.
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He may well be a romantic, but he's not quite romantic enough to believe this has made any great strides in Phainon's approach to taking a partner with equal give and take in mind to bed, although it certainly will give him something to think about in the future. Perhaps the Cat can be a reminder. Perhaps the Cat can find his way between his legs and under his bedsheets again, time after time, to drive it home, to make a lasting impact in the shape of his paws and teeth, to make a mark-- ]
Phainon— [ He groans, fingers inside him questing deep, spearing and stretching and curving eagerly, certain he won't have any capability to get him worked open once Phainon does as he's told and so doing everything he can to not lose himself now in the sight of him bucking up into his hand and driving down onto his fingers. His own cock is straining between his legs, his very gums prickling with the desire to find the flesh of Phainon's throat and return the bite he gifted the Cat at the ball, right on the join between neck and shoulder. ] I want you to come. Come for me.
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Phainon wants to resist and draw this out, to enjoy the pleasure a little more. It feels decadent in a way he can’t quite find the words for, so utterly under this man’s thumb that nothing else seems to matter, that nothing else holds any meaning. It feels dangerous, too, wanting so much, desiring so much, feeling the burn of pleasure inside him. His whole body feels slight, flame inside him desperate to come out, and if he doesn’t give in he’ll. break.
Worse than that. He’ll weep.
Shivering, fingers curling inside him, outside of him, around his cock and too deep, all he can do is moan. Cat has taken such good care of him, so careful at urging him forward, and Phainon wants this so deeply. He doesn’t even realise how his hands remain above his head, that he hasn’t moved to grab or grasp, just shudders as he sinks further and further down.
It feels like a trap, but it isn’t. It’s just sex. Nothing more than that.
When he comes, it’s with a quiet, low sound, dragged out of him before he sinks into the bed, lax and dirty from his own come staining him. His hips still rock all the same, wanting to be good, to take and take, greedily. What a strange beast he’s become. ]
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Pride spreads through him as a bead of sweat runs down the length of the Cat's spine, and with it comes the sure knowledge that he can't resist him much longer. Though it's tempting to let Phainon continue to fuck into his hand, to see how many times he can make him come if he simply never stops-- he's sure there'll be other times for such a thing. There'll be another opportunity when the Cat isn't so hungry for the body beneath him that he can take his time with more targeted accuracy; he's sure of it. Perhaps he can catch Phainon sometime when he's comfortable and familiar rather than electric and alive, when his mind is dulled by warm company and hands he knows will treat him well. Perhaps then he could have Phainon begging much quicker into his mouth, as his hand or his body works him over and over and over— ]
The things you make me think about... [ The Cat says, almost to himself again, eyes scanning the sight before him, the mess Phainon has made, mouth watering to clean it up but body focused on other, more pressing matters. ] You make me want to ravage you.
[ He slows his hand, then stops completely, drawing his dirty palm away so that he can click his fingers and disappear his clothing. It had been nice to be half-dressed and filthy in Phainon's lap, but his senses crave skin on skin. Then he uses the hand covered in the remnants of Phainon's release to slick his own cock, heavy and eager, before pressing it against his retracted fingers.
He thinks about giving Phainon time to come down from his afterglow, a moment to catch his breath, a second to adjust for the Cat to be inside him, but he simply cannot wait. His fingers retract, his cock pushes up, his body falls forward over Phainon so that his mouth can capture his in a kiss, drinking the first sound of being breached from him as he rocks forward and sinks into him. ]
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There is only pleasure.
Mind fuzzy, he gazes at Cat, lax and content, body still alert. Something warm floods him, an understanding, perhaps. It does not have to be such a dangerous thing, to give into what he must for the sake of his wish. When it can feel like this, why shouldn't he allow himself it, why shouldn't he take it? It had felt the same with Mydeimos, but the weight of expectation and relationship there is something that he hadn't been prepared to probe too deeply over.
Lifting his gaze, he swallows, feeling overheated. ]
You could tell me them. [ It feels like a confession, somehow, whispered between them where no one else can hear. Phainon doesn't know Cat well, but he recognises that, in this, they can be genuine. It is sex, it is pleasure, and it does not need to be deeper than that, it does not need to be something that causes him the stress that it had, up to now. ] I'd like to hear them.
[ Even now, his hands haven't moved.
Phainon wants to reach out, to grasp, to hold on and not let go, but he doesn't. He watches Cat as he settles between his legs, as he presses inside him, taking and taking, and his moan is swallowed by the heat of their kiss. Fingers twitching, desperate to hold on and grab, all he can do is arch up, enjoying the burn of the stretch, the slight sting, the way it makes him feel as if he is being submerged. All his thoughts fade away, lost in pleasure and nothing else. ]
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But he'd encouraged Phainon to give in and feel, hadn't he? He'd shown him with firm and steadfast reassurance and tempting hands that he was in good company for it, that the Cat only wanted to see him wanting, and to watch him give in... Shouldn't the same be true in reverse? This is just sex; this is just something fun, there and then gone – but perhaps he can use his familiar intensity to his advantage, lean into it, and taste it even if only by mouthfuls, with a partner who is clearly so eager to know in return.
His cock gives a heavy, hungry throb, and the Cat pulls back from the kiss with a groan, a flash of his teeth in Phainon's lip, and a string of saliva connecting their mouths.
That slightly unfocused look in Phainon's eyes transforms his already beautiful face into something near angelic, and though the Cat knows full well it's down to the fact that Phainon is indulging – following his instructions and becoming soft and malleable under his paws – he finds himself completely rapt by the sight of it as he tries to concentrate on the feeling of his body. He lets himself adjust to Phainon's tightness, allowing the other man time to feel the way his cock makes his muscles stretch and to anticipate what it will feel like to be fucked by him before he gives it to him. ]
You've been such a good boy... I'll tell you anything you want to know. [ And he wants to. He wants to feed his desire; he wants to show it to Phainon, even if only the smallest amount of it that's palatable. He licks his lips, a smile growing, hands finding the soft flesh of Phainon's thighs and pinning him open, folding him, pressing him down. ] But first... [ His eyes flick up, and his smile turns knowing and smug. ] Put your arms around me. Hold on to me tight while I fuck you, and then we can see how long it takes me to lose all my words to how good you feel, hm?
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There's something about the way that Cat speaks to him, whispers to him, praises him that makes it easier to fall into the trap of letting go, of basking in the way that all the good feelings flood through him. His body feels warm, so hot that it might burn if he isn't careful, Coreflames in his chest brought back to life from sharing his body with another, and he doesn't have to bleed to do it. His fingers tingle from it, and he is breathless as their kiss breaks, his eyes dark as they turn to look at the man above him.
It's not as though he has given in completely, a pinprick of edge still there, under his skin. If threatened, Phainon could have a hand around his throat in a moment. He could prove to the Cat just how dangerous he can be, with his transformation burning under his skin and threatening to come through. He enjoys the feeling for now, licking his lips and chasing the taste of the kiss, wondering and wanting.
To be desired for who he is and not his mantle, his cause, his golden blood, is still a novelty.
Pressed, folded, moved, Phainon groans softly, feeling the slight stretch in his muscles, so novel and new. He can't remember the last time he was taken like this, mind searching through lifetimes as if he might be able to parse one, and he has to shove it aside before he loses his focus on the here and now. He is enjoying the feel of Cat's cock inside him, the warmth of his body around him, the timbre of his voice; all of it is good, and better than drawing nightmares back into his mind for no reason.
Nodding his head, he swallows. ]
Thank you. [ For the praise, he thinks, or for taking care of him, or for being good - Phainon isn't sure. His voice is a little hoarse, but his arms move, fingers flexing absently as they wrap around Cat and hold on, almost sinking into the new embrace. It's good; it all feels good. He's not even put off by the smugness, far to familiar with that particular trait to be offended. ]
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