[ Phainon's fingers keep idly brushing and playing, enjoying the feeling of warm skin under his touch. It's been a long time since he allowed himself to be tactile, but he's finding comfort in that. After all these years, where his body was burning up from the inside thanks to the 33,550,336 cycles he had lived, and the twelve Coreflames he had taken in each one.
It felt, for a long time, as though his hands were unworthy of such sweet, simple touch.
Laughing softly, he watches Cat with a fond gaze. ]
I'll drop by, in that case.
[ Thumb moving idly, Phainon leans forward, a soft flash of concern settling over his features. ]
Do you have trouble sleeping? If you think it would help, you can come over. I wouldn't mind.
[ That look of concern pulls at the Cat's heart. When was the last time someone looked at him like that? Not for a long while before his arrival here, and then a couple of people he's met in Decadia, who he holds close to his heart but keeps at arm's length out of necessity. Has Phainon become one of those people too?
If he thinks about it, he can imagine it so. He already thinks about him enough, and after tonight it'll be even more difficult to get him off his mind. ]
Mm, maybe I'll do just that then. I'll keep your bed niiiice and warm for you when you get back to it. Or maybe I'll sneak in while you're already snoozing and leech all your warmth.
[ He grins, but he feels like he owes that look some soothing, so he reaches out with the hand that isn't grasping the bottle, and pokes the little crease in Phainon's brow with a claw. ]
I can't shift forms as easily as I can in my own world, and I sleep better as a cat. I just can't get as comfortable. That's all.
[ Phainon pauses for a moment, because he's struck by one very clear thing that he hadn't realised: he can turn into an actual cat?
It should've been obvious, and in hindsight maybe it is. He feels the giggles bubble up from his stomach, and he's taking the hand not brushing idle, silly shapes into the other man's skin, reaching out to grab at the one poking him, thumb against the pulse point before he breathes out, ignoring the way he laughs softly. ]
I'm not laughing at you! I only...
[ He squeezes Cat's wrist. ]
I'm not sure why I didn't realise you were actually a cat, as well.
[ Phainon sounds a little sheepish about it too, shaking his head fondly. ]
[ The Cat frowns a little at the sudden sound of laughter, so it's a good thing Phainon reassures him before the soreness settles in — only... the Cat is very much aware how it hadn't even occurred to him to feel offended, only confused, like he couldn't imagine Phainon would be so cruel and unthinking to him.
He narrows his eyes a bit, but his expression is amused, and when Phainon grabs at his wrist he takes it as an opportunity to shift a little closer in the pantomime of scrutinising him, but in actuality because he just wanted to get close to that face. He looks good when he laughs. He looks good all the time, but the Cat likes him like this the most. Well, maybe not the most. But it's a close second. ]
What, you thought I was just a fruity human tasked with bossing a hundred and forty-six cats around? [ He quirks his eyebrow as if that's a stupid fucking idea when, to an outsider's perspective, that's exactly what his situation looks like. ] I'm a cat first, Phainon. This is a glamour I made myself.
[ Let that one sink in. His smile goes a little flatter. It doesn't disappear completely, but some of the humour certainly dissipates. ]
So if you want to change your mind about bedwarming now, it'd be a good time to do it. Otherwise I'm going to climb into your lap and kiss you.
It's not as though you have spent much time telling me about any of that!
[ A cat first. That's something for him to unpack later, when he's not so caught up in the man next to him.
The truth is that they haven't really spoken in depth about their own histories, their backstories, the things that exist outside the bubbles of their intimacy. In hindsight, he's sure there's probably more that he could have done to bridge that gap, to try and learn a little more about Cat, but isn't that what he's doing now? A nice dinner, conversation, questions to unpick and find out as much as he can.
He isn't cruel, and he isn't unkind, not to those who are not his enemies. Cat King is no enemy, is a friend, growing dearer by the day, and Phainon leans as well, mirroring the slow movement of the man before him. With his legs where they are, they're already close, but it feels as if there's some form of magnet, something keeping them from being too distant with one another.
The hand on the Cat's leg tightens, briefly, and his smile remains small, but soft. ]
Why would I turn you away?
[ Tugging on the wrist, he brings it close, to try and press a kiss to the steady thrum of his pulse. ]
[ True enough. The Cat King doesn't hide who or what he is the same way some might in this place — if Phainon asks, the Cat will answer; if he doesn't offer it up himself before that... it's just that they haven't had much opportunity for conversation before tonight, and the Cat normally lets people know what he is before he goes allowing them into the softer parts of his consideration.
If it changed anything or made Phainon feel strange, it wouldn't be the first time, and the Cat would have simply gone home and never crossed Phainon's path again. Simple. And yet he's full to the brim with the sudden rush of relief that such an outcome isn't one he has to face. He could kiss him. He will kiss him. Especially if he keeps looking at him with that soft smile, pulling his hand close to—
When Phainon kisses his wrist, the Cat's mind goes back to a soft kiss pressed to his cheek, to a fond smile and a soft nod, and remembers the way his heart had slammed in his chest as though it wanted to crawl out and follow the retreating ghost. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this. But he also thought this wouldn't, couldn't happen to him. Why shouldn't he have it, if it's being offered up to him so readily?
He slides his body forward, brushing his hand away from Phainon's mouth like he's jealous it got there before him, kissing him hard but chastely – just a press of their mouths before he's drawing back so that he can sit in his lap properly. A recreation, almost, of their first meeting. It makes him smile, sharp and pointed, before he leans down to kiss Phainon properly. Their conversation isn't over, he'll make sure of it, but now he just wants to enjoy this. ]
[ Phainon doesn't know what to expect, where things will go. There's a strange gulf between them, unasked questions on the tip of their tongues, and he's not sure what he would say to the ones offered to him. Could he speak of his small, quaint village without crying, knowing it will never come back? Would he be able to whisper more about being an Heir, the Black Tide, without the weight of his grief making him weak and fragile?
In a way, he's glad he doesn't have to think of the answers to those things, glad that he can let his eyes drag over the Cat instead. It makes it easier, as it has done in the past. He can focus instead on his hands, his touch, the solid weight of his body over him, and how warm it makes him feel. How strange it is, to have a friend he cares for, one whose blood has never stained his hands, whose life has never been plundered in the hope of a better future.
Cat King does not know his violence, only his softness, and Phainon wants to keep it that way. Let him never know Khaslana, who had become the Dawn and burned all the love inside himself in the making.
Leaning into the kiss, he smiles, one arm wrapping around Cat's waist to hold him there. It's easier than the one they had shared before, that first idle flirtation becoming something more at the celebration, Phainon less nervous, less shy. He has confidence with the Cat King touching him, kissing and wanting him, knowing he can give and take and be welcomed. He trusts in that, even if his other words are buried somewhere deep inside.
It doesn't need to become sexual, but the desire remains, unable to be resisted.
Phainon keeps the kiss soft, and slow, almost sweet, basking in the heat of it. He smiles into it, his other hand sliding to the Cat's waist, to find the soft skin there and pet it, to let his fingers find his warmth and grasp onto it. It makes his chilled fingers feel better - cold to him, but likely not to anyone else, the loss of his Coreflames making all his limbs feel frozen. ]
[ The Cat tucks the bottle in his other hand between the seat cushions so that he can get both of his hands to Phainon's jaw. This position, too, is familiar; though instead of having Phainon folded beneath him mid-fuck, he's simply holding him close because it feels good and comfortable to do it. But it isn't all that far removed. Back then, he'd wanted to hold him close to cling to the moment, knowing that it was soon to end and wishing he could stay basking in the way it felt. For the pleasure of it, yes, but for the closeness too. Now, Phainon is just as pliant underneath him, but he's different too. So content to be kissed and to kiss him back, smiling against him, touching him. It's slower, less urgent, non-specific in the direction it's heading.
The Cat loves to kiss, could happily get lost in it for without so much as thinking of resurfacing, and honestly hadn't realised how much he truly missed it until he arrived in this place where physicality means everything and kissing is its own gateway drug. But he could get used to this soft directionless kind. Climbing into Phainon's bed to kiss him like this. Waking him in the morning with a kiss like this. Finding him out in the city to pull him onto a bench somewhere and kiss him, just like this. Perhaps he'll even catch him at the gym and lick the sweat off his top lip before kissing him goodbye. All stupid, ridiculous, romantic things that he's never let himself think about except in private, painful moments like these. Things he hurts himself on purpose by wanting.
He imagined them with Edwin, with Simon, and look how that turned out. But Phainon kisses him back. Phainon wants him here, with him. So... Perhaps he can covet this, in his own way, in his own mind. Perhaps this can be his and his alone.
He parts their mouths only to breathe, lifting his paws to slide appraisingly back through Phainon's soft hair, two handfuls of pale locks the way one might pet an eager dog. He laughs, soft and affectionate. ]
I could kiss you for hours. [ He heaves a dramatic sigh. ] How am I going to get anything done now...
[ Before arriving here, Phainon hadn't been someone inclined to decadence, to letting himself indulge beyond more than what was needed. He had a singular focus, a carefully fostered desire, to enact vengeance upon the Black Tide and to honour the village and friends he carried in his heart. Inheriting the cycles did nothing to stop that, the bitterness real and sharp inside him, and the facade he wears, the mask that is half himself and half not, has settled onto him in this world with ease.
Below all the horror and the nightmare is the boy who wanted to be a hero, the man who raised his blade to the sky and swore to become the world's Deliverer. It feels further away at times, and too close to his heart at others, but Phainon is recognising the parts of himself that are one or the other. Phainon, a farm boy turned soldier; Khaslana, the manifestation of hate. They're both part of him now, and he is slowly coming to terms with it, accepting, understand, refusing to falter.
Pulling Cat a little tighter, he hums into the kiss, tilting into the touch of his hands, enjoying the echo of his laugh. The apartment is theirs, with no one to bother them for at least a little while, and he wants to enjoy this. There's freedom in that laugh, and something real under it, something that makes his chest feel tight and his cheeks feel hot, hands keen to touch and take and anchor. Admitting to a desire is hard, nigh impossible for Phainon, but the more time he spends here the easier it feels.
Their noses nudge, and his smile widens into a grin, tilting his head and watching the other man fondly. ]
Did you make plans for after our dinner? Should I be offended?
[ Tilting up, he noses at the Cat's jaw, brushing his mouth against the sharp edge of it, teasing, enjoying the feeling of being close. ]
[ His eyes flash, amused. ] Greedy, puppy. No, nothing like that, but I can't spend every hour of every day thinking about your mouth. That really would be indulgent.
[ He lets the implication that he's spent any time at all prior to this meeting thinking about Phainon's mouth go unspoken, because not only should it be obvious that he has, given the texts he sent Phainon recently, but he's a little embarrassed at how much he's been thinking about it, amongst other things. ]
But I've always been bad at showing resistance. I want too much to hold myself back from it. And you, puppy, you're much too sweet to resist.
[ Is he convincing himself he simply had no chance not falling into things this honey trap of a man? Was he doomed from the start by his big eyes and his gentle face? His apprehension turned burning need that the Cat can relate to so succinctly, if not in the exact same way Phainon feels it? Who knows. But, as he smooths his hand through his hair again, tilting his head ever so slightly to watch it pass through his claws, he thinks it might not be so bad. He's survived before, he'll survive again. ]
But I feel like I should get a few more revelations out of the way before I get too carried away with you, and you answered so many of my questions before, so... Is there anything you want to ask me?
[ It would be easy to make a comment about that being the purpose of their time here, but Phainon doesn't want to ruin the moment by making it sound like that's all that matters to him. He might have come here for the purpose of his wish, but his desire for Cat is real, not linked specifically to the contract he had signed or the need to make sure he does as he is told.
It's a little more than that.
Nudging their noses together again, he hums softly. ]
I'll have a little restraint for us both, then.
[ Not that it stops him from letting his fingers stroke over the small of his back, not that it stops him from holding the other man closer, resting his chin against him as he gazes up. He's a little bit like putty under him, enjoying being petted and held, as if he really is a domesticated dog at the heel of his master. It would be funny if the comparison wasn't a little too close to home.
Humming, he tilts his head, eyes almost unblinking. ]
Anything I want?
[ There's a moment of consideration, and then - ]
I'd like to know what else you enjoy doing in your free time... Other than thinking about kissing me.
[ Resistance, to the Cat, is an opportunity to push. Even when he swore off humans for life, he still found himself weaving between the proverbial (and literal) legs of ones that caught his eye. Even when he arrived here and decided he was determinedly not going to act like a lovesick idiot in the throes of a rebound, he still sought out familiar faces more than once. Followed them to their apartments, watched them at a distance, and pushed his claws in deep when he should have kept them back.
Resisting Phainon feels like pressing those claws to a new couch without tarnishing it. Like taking a bite and not a mouthful. Like feeling the heat without jumping into the fire. Temptation, resistance. The Cat is weak to both.
So, though he talks a big game about not kissing Phainon's mouth, not letting himself get distracted that way... he said fucking nothing about kissing him elsewhere.
He lets Phainon rub their noses together, eyelashes flickering softly, smile going tender as he focuses in on the physicality of him; those hands at his back, the way he holds the Cat close like the only reason he's accepting the pause of their kisses is because he can still have him like this. Cute. Another tally mark on bites for later.
And at the sound of his request, he quirks his eyebrow a little, but nods his consent to answer. But not before he leans down, pressing his mouth to Phainon's jaw, and then another and another, back toward his ear and against the lobe of it. And between every kiss, he gives Phainon what he asked for: ]
I like... clothes shopping and fashion, so I like putting together outfits. I like to read, and I like to watch movies, though my choices in that department are a little- [ He nips his ear softly with his fangs, but not enough to be considered a bite, then starts down his neck. ] -limited, here. Hmmm, what else. I like to people watch. I like getting a coffee and just watching the world and the people in it go by. I like taking naps. I like buying and arranging flowers.
[ He pauses, lips to his collar, on the very precipice of going further, and then retracting to blink almost innocently at the other man. ]
[ It's very hard to focus on what the Cat King is saying to him when his mouth is exploring like that, but Phainon thinks that might be kind of the point. His hands keep a gentle hold of the other man even as he nods, listening attentively to everything that's been shared with him. He'll keep it locked away in his mind, little things to bring out later when he wants to share a quieter moment, when he wants to see his friend as happy as possible.
The fangs make him shiver, and he swallows, tilting to offer the other man as much space and room as he might desire. ]
I've been told my sense of fashion is deplorable. [ Even if he might be fond of his ducky shirt, he knows that other people aren't. He can imagine Cat teleporting into his room for an evening embrace and coming face to face with Phainon in the rubber duck nightwear that Mydeimos had bought him, and that might well kill any attempts at sexual feeling that might have been brewing beforehand.
It makes him smile, squeezing the other man just a little tighter. ]
I've enjoyed reading a great deal too, especially histories, and other cities and people. I used to dream about seeing the world when I was younger, or visiting a great library.
[ Though that feels far out of reach, now.
Nudging up, he presses a kiss to his jaw, his chin, idle and soft. It feels almost...
Phainon nods. ]
I feel like I know you better now, so yes. Our next evening together could be a movie, or reading? If you really want to indulge, you can nap with me and Fig Stew.
[ Phainon sleeps poorly a lot of the time, and likes the idea of being able to curl up with a warm body without having to overthink what it means. ]
[ It's easier, somehow, for the Cat King to approach the idea of being known when he's being known as a sexual creature with fun additions that make him real. It's easier to not imagine someone thinking it's laughable for a King to enjoy such vapid things when the fact that he's a tool for sexual gratification is impossible to ignore.
Phainon doesn't seem to have any predisposed opinions about Kings or their cats, only looks at him again with that patient look and fond smile. Yet again leaping over the hurdle the Cat pushes in his way as if it were never there in the first place. It's impossible to hold back the smile that curves his mouth. ]
A nap for a second date? Phainon, you really are spoiling me.
[ He rewards him with a kiss, to the soft angle of his cheek, hands sliding to his throat, palms warm over his pulse and fingers playing in the strands of hair at the back of his head, thumbs on his jaw. ] I've travelled a little. Maybe I can tell you of some of the places in my world that I've been, the place I'm rumoured to be from, even, though I don't know how much credit there is to it. I don't remember much of my first life.
[ He kisses across his face, his nose, to the other cheek and then down to the corner of his mouth. ]
Perhaps I can dress you up some time, too. Give you something to wear that isn't quite so... deplorable.
[ He grins, then kisses him on the mouth, a press of contact, a catlike lap of his tongue. He'd kiss him deeper, too-- but something sticks in his mind, and he draws back with a quizzical look. ] ... Fig Stew?
[ They work well together as a pair, Phainon thinks. He’s used to having someone around to tease him and nudge him, used to paying attention to his friends, accustomed to all of it, so it feels easy and natural to slip into what the Cat gives him. It’s not the same as Mydeimos or Cyrene, but it doesn’t have to be; he’s his own person, and Phainon likes that, too.
Lounging together, sharing soft kisses… It’s nice, fulfilling in a different way, and the conversation stops him from going into something too morose, too sad for the occasion. ]
I like to spoil my friends.
[ Which is what Cat is, isn’t it?
Smiling, he speaks, and the words come without thinking too much. ]
I don’t remember much of mine, either. The ending better than the start, but the endings of a story are often the most memorable. I’d like to hear about yours.
[ He doesn’t realise the slip, continuing along as if nothing has happened.
He continues to seek kisses, continues to touch and nuzzle and feel content, the smile on his face unwavering. It’s the calm before the storm, the quiet before Phainon realises the confession he’s just offered, a secret buried deep, deep inside himself. How funny, what contentment does. ]
I’ll show you my wardrobe later… Fig Stew might be around here somewhere. He’s a small, orange chimera. Mydeimos was given him as a gift, like you and Vyvyan.
[ Friends. Phainon has called him a friend before, at the ball in a passing comment and here and there in a way that makes it sound like an easy thing to be, like Phainon goes around collecting friends all the time just by being warm and kind and good. The Cat is only just learning how to be a friend, how to let himself have them in return, how to want them just enough, not too much. Simon has taught him a lot, both about being a friend and not wanting more than he's given, so he naturally finds himself thinking about him here... but the sore feelings aren't as sharp as they were a week or two ago. And being Phainon's friend is something he definitely wants to be. He can be normal about this.
And yet. He wonders if Phainon does these things with all his friends, or if the Cat is special. Special enough to be in a small group of people he's been intimate with more than once, at least. Possessively, he wants to bite him. For no other reason than the fact that he can, and that he's allowed to and Phainon wants him to. What was that he just said about being normal?
Instead, he listens, he kisses him, he runs his nose along his cheek and jaw, he wonders what the fuck a chimera is. Like a dog-daughter chimera or a lion-goat-snake chimera? Or something completely different, given that Phainon's world and his share very few similarities. He imagines Phainon showing him his wardrobe. He imagines undressing him, redressing him: sending him out into the world wearing something he picked out, only to take it off again once he returns. He thinks about telling Phainon what he knows of Cat King history, of his history before Port Townsend, of Death and their agreement. He thinks about his lives, what he's lost, what he doesn't even know he's lost. He thinks of Phainon.
It's not hard to imagine Phainon might have died in his world, because he's encountered many pretty boys who are here wishing for another chance at a life tragically cut short. But Phainon had agreed in a way that makes the Cat feel like he relates less to the fact that he's died, but the fact that he's died more than once. I don't remember much of mine, either... His first life? Does he mean that literally? Or... his life before he was a soldier, or..?
Curiosity pulls like a leash, and the Cat draws back from Phainon to look at him. ]
I guess you and I are more similar than I first thought. [ His hand reaches up, cupping Phainon's cheek. ] You really are fascinating to me. Everything about you. You make me feel...
[ Perhaps it's best not to finish that thought. Perhaps it's best just to kiss him instead. ]
[ Friend is a title that Phainon gives like a gift, a flower in the bleak, barren landscape of the world. There are some who are more dear to him than others, of course, who fill a place in his life with more ease (Mydeimos, steadfast and strong; Cyrene, the breath of childhood innocence; Aglaea, who guided him on his path to begin with), but they are all special to him. Counting a person amongst his friends means some part of his vast, longing-filled heart is theirs, and he wants nothing more than to fulfil their desires.
Being able to literally make wishes come true in this world is another gift, and Phainon sinks into that like sliding into a warm, comfortable bath. It feels right, and soothes his hurts, and allows him to refocus his attentions: this is his duty and his role, his new Flame Chase journey. Let his new Dawn be the burning of the past and the creation of wishes, an Era Nova worthy of celebration rather than mourning.
The kiss steals his thoughts away and grounds him, arm wrapping around Cat so he can feel for his hair, scratch through it, all tenderness and want. It's not a desperate desire, enough to make him rush to tug the other man to a bedroom to sate himself, but a low, bubbling one, like leaving a good meal to simmer over a warm flame. It comforts him, and it means that he doesn't think too hard about what he's saying, the things he's confessing, mind filled with cotton and sweetness and the whispering urge for more, more, more.
Everything feels greedy. Phainon feels unworthy. He thinks of Aglaea, and Tribbie, thinks of the constant; losses are a constant on the flame chase journey. One day, they will return to their own worlds, wishes fulfilled, and he will lose Cat, just as he will lose so many others. Will it break his heart, or will he find relief in knowing their shared desires have borne fruit? Will he remember this man, who has been so good to him, worming his way into his heart?
The more time he spends with these people, the harder it will surely become.
Leaning into the touch to his cheek, Phainon frowns briefly, going over the words in his mind, before his eyes flicker a touch wider. It's obvious that he never meant to make such a confession, and his fingers tighten briefly before he breathes out. He trusts, at least, that Cat won't go gossipping about this; trusts that his missaid words won't ruin the softness of the moment between then, too easy to confess to his most layered of sins.
Leaning in, he hides his face against Cat, tucking into his jaw, his chest, humming. ]
That might explain how easy things have felt! I'm not really that interesting, though.
[ Which might not be factually true. When he tilts his head up, he seeks Cat's gaze, heart messy in his chest. ]
I do hope the rest of that sentence is a positive one.
[ The kisses soothe something in him, he thinks. Or perhaps he's just being a romantic. But there's nothing stopping him from wanting in the safety of his own mind, where no one can hear his thoughts or judge him for his softness or manipulate him for his weakness. He can be a strong, playful, mysterious King on the outside while longing for a tender touch and a welcoming hand beneath it all. After all, it's so easy to believe that Phainon wants him when he kisses him like this. It feels like they have all the time in the world, and even if it's only for tonight, Cat will bask in it just the same.
He sees Phainon's eyes widen, his mouth go tight, his hands flex where they touch the Cat's skin. He feels that initial surprise at something being unveiled and thinks, ah — have I found something you didn't mean to show? Instinct would have him hooking a claw in that reaction, slipping a paw beneath and slinking inside, luring the proverbial mouse out of darkness to be feasted on by his insatiable curiosity....
But he'd done that with Edwin, hadn't he? He'd pushed and pushed until he'd pushed him away, and though they're on relatively cordial terms now, his arms are still empty and his town is still quiet. He doesn't want to do that to Phainon. Not when things have been going so well, not when he's just starting to think he might have this right. So, for the first time in his life, the Cat makes a valiant effort to not fuck this up. ]
Careful. I just said we were similar. If you start calling yourself boring, I'll have to prove you wrong by showing you how captivating I can be.
[ He purrs, tilting his head up so he can survey the other man as though from upon a throne. He smiles, a pull at the corner of his mouth, finding it powerfully endearing that Phainon quite literally just hid his face in his neck like a scene out of a romance novel, and barely resisting the urge to kiss him about it. ]
And it is. Maybe I'll tell you all about that someday, too. [ He fails his self-made challenge, kissing him again, like he can't go five minutes without doing it. Or perhaps he's using it as a distraction technique, like he had before, to give Phainon something to focus on between the Cat's words: ] Though, for the record. You also make me powerfully curious. But I won't demand anything of you. I won't push unless you're ready to give. I'm not interested in doing anything you don't want to do.
[ Sexually and otherwise, the Cat values want and pleasure above all else. He's perfectly fine at creating his own misery, thank you; he doesn't need to drag that into his interactions with those he likes – if he can help it. ]
[ Phainon is beginning to understand how a world like this can work, built on decadence, on need, on desire, and nothing else. When there are awkward moments of uncertainty, it feels too easy to lean into a kiss and let it all fade into the background, to steal a little pleasure to push away the discomfort. When you are this close to someone, sharing a physicality that goes beyond the platonic, it is too much a temptation to ignore; Cat makes it so easy that he doesn't think twice about it.
There will come a time when he thinks he will be able to confess it all, when it is all unburdened, but now is not that time. The evening is too good, and the words too heavy; no alcohol or sweet touches will be enough to draw it out of him when he's barely been able to speak about it with the ones closest to him. If he had been able to speak to Mydeimos or Cipher, unveil the nightmare of his lifetimes, to seek out how much they knew and what anger they held, then perhaps. Until then...
Until that time rolls through him and shakes the very foundation of who he is, Phainon can cling to this instead: the way Cat holds him, touches his cheek, laughs, filled with a coy energy that has Phainon enchanted by him. He is an open book in so many ways, but when it comes to the true history of his lifetimes, to the reality of his own Flame Chase journey, the diary is bound and locked, the key hidden. The fact that Cat doesn't push for more softens the edges of him, soothes the hurt that threatened to flutter through him.
Humming softly, his smile widens. ]
Similar, but not the same. I think you're more interesting than I could ever be, partner.
[ Casual affection ladled out without pause, leaning up into the kiss.
Let his nightmares and worries be stolen by this; a simple press of mouths, a simple, easy gateway to something more, the fondness bubbling up inside of them. It seems so odd to leap so quickly into such dire affection with someone else, but the proximity, the demanded intimacy, the way that they had already touched and held one another made the rest of it seem natural.
Breathing out, Phainon kisses his jaw, mumbling against his skin. ]
... I'll tell you, when it feels like less of a burden to share.
[ So, perhaps never, because it will always be his burden, always be his nightmare to hoist and hold.
Squeezing him gently, Phainon holds Cat close, a safety net, odd as it may be. ]
You can ask me other things, for now. I've heard a saying that curiosity can do bad things to cats...
[ That word makes his purr briefly trip up. Part of his mind flushes as his cheeks do the same, dazzled by the accidental romance in it, but a louder instinct has him wanting to snap his teeth and tell him not to call him that, to reveal a hard edge to this fluid thing he's made himself out to be. And he should, really. That word is reserved for people who earn it, people who spend years side by side or who go through Hell together, dragging each other through it. It's for people who make bonds and keep them, not Cats who fumble and get fickle and run when it's a little too hard, cling to things long dead.
But, he doesn't. Because Phainon says it so simply, it could have just as easily been his name, and the Cat is very good at weathering his own storms. He lets it slip, assimilating it into the formless being he is, and lets the strange feeling be worn away by Phainon's mouth. The idea that Phainon might tell him anything he keeps close one day is a heady thing to imagine, and it feels wonderful and wonderfully dangerous to imagine quiet words pressed between mouths with their bodies tangled and their hearts raw. Like he's done or will ever do anything to deserve that softness. Like he could ever allow himself that, even if the maw inside of him cries out for it.
He decides to shift closer, sliding his arms over Phainon's shoulders so the Cat can hold him closer in an almost hug rather than simply straddling him, fingers toying idly with the tips of his hair, twisting them between his claws. ]
Mmm, that's a true one. [ He scrunches up his nose, amused. ] It's a deadly thing, curiosity. What other things have you heard about cats, hm? I'll tell you which ones have some truth to them and which are lies meant to besmirch our name.
[ Half joking, he's only running his mouth while he thinks of a better question, one that – should Phainon give him a soft, tender answer – won't make the Cat feel even more stupid about him. ]
And then... tell me what you got up to after we first met. You mentioned friends, right? But I've only heard about your royal roomie. Were they scandalised you let me at you in polite company, or did they bake you a cake?
[ As the Cat slides closer, Phainon adjusts his legs on the sofa, making it more comfortable for the other man. His fingers continue to trace absent shapes against his body, and he leans in, seeking out the warmth. He feels so accustomed to the body heat of Cat wrapped around him that the loss of it would feel like a cold breeze at the peak of summer, enough to leave a shiver running down a spine and an emptiness settling in the chest.
Lounging back, he brings Cat with him, so they can be twisted up together, so they can be all entangled and wrapped up with one another, so they can share these whispered sentiments. The room is cosy, now, and Phainon hums softly, turning, chasing, watching each flicker of movement on the Cat's face, the shift of his emotions and changing moods as he drinks it in, learning.
Comfortable, he tilts his head to speak. ]
Mydeimos and I don't talk about that.
[ They don't share their conquests with one another, beyond an idle word here and there. It might be some kind of unspoken rule, that neither of them want to broach the topic with other, for fear of some kind of envy, or jealousy. Phainon can admit to a little greed when it comes to his friend; Mydeimos was his companion first, a constant in his lifetimes, and it is hard to share that with other people. It might well be the same in return, if others ask Mydei about him.
Absently, he steals another kiss, an idle, chaste brush of their lips. ]
Cipher was celebratory...? She enjoys poking fun at me, but that's to be expected.
[ He could imagine talking into the night with him, even if he isn't sure how long they have. He could imagine curling up here, catlike even without the shift, gazing up at him and letting him talk. He can imagine putting a stop completely to their conversation and reminding himself of what his real talent is: not making friends or being a good one himself, but driving a body and mind to distraction with his clever mouth and wicked hands. He could imagine a lot of things. And perhaps, as he settles himself against Phainon's warmth, he will. ]
Huh.
[ The Cat can't speak for typical relationship dynamics or anything like that, but he's familiar with enough tropes to see the strangeness in that. They fuck but they don't talk about who else they're fucking? Okay, sure. Really, the Cat should have seen that one coming. Best friends in sex Disneyland and all. Wouldn't be the first time he's gotten in deep with a boy who's already a particular kind of crazy about another boy.
The mention of Cipher's name makes him grin, as well as the point about the cake. ]
Well. I guess you're a creature of familiar comforts in who you fuck and who you keep as friends. I've met Cipher. I guess a Cat King was a no-brainer for you, huh?
[ He's done a little more than meet Cipher, but it feels weird to mention that he knows what she looks like naked given the current situation. Instead, he shifts to sit himself side-saddle on Phainon's lap instead of sitting over it, curling up so he can nudge his nose at the soft skin just before his ear, so that he can kiss his jawline or his neck or his mouth when he wants to, so he can watch his pulse beat under his choker, and bask in his warmth. ]
It's a good thing you've got your friends here with you. [ Soft, wistful. Phainon deserves to have as many friends as he wants, and more still. He chuckles quietly: ] Even if they don't bake you congrats on the semi-public handjob cakes.
[ Eventually, they're going to have to move, either because sleep is calling or because the threat of Mydeimos coming home becomes too real. Phainon doesn't imagine his friend would be terribly offended by walking in on them snuggling on the sofa, but there's still a desire to keep this safe and tucked away, to ensure that it doesn't spoil his relationship with either of them. It's a tactful thing, trying to keep everyone happy whilst ignoring your own, but Phainon is nothing if not proficient.
Content now with the cuddling, the embrace, the ease of conversation, Phainon rumbles a soft laugh. ]
It's not quite the same with Cipher and I as it is for me and you. [ Yet. ] She's an incredibly dear friend to me, and I'm glad to be able to spend more time with her here.
[ Cipher had been a distant Chrysos Heir for many of his lifetimes, and while Phainon knew why, he did miss her. Being able to sneak hours of the day at her side now is a gift that he doesn't take advantage of, even as he plays with the hem of Cat's clothing, touching his skin, idly letting himself enjoy the embrace. It's the little things that make the grander ones easier to bear, and this conversation takes the edge off his sadness.
Tilting his head, he gives space for Cat to nuzzle without question or comment, simply continuing to speak. ]
In some ways, it's been something I'd never be able to express my thanks for. In others... There are some things you don't need to hear about your friends!
[ Squeezing, he kisses the top of Cat's head. ]
Cake or otherwise, I do not think I would change any of it.
[ Cat struggles to imagine why Phainon is fucking one friend and not the other, but then he wonders if Phainon maybe isn't into girls (haha) or if perhaps their relationship is simply not suited to something sexual. Either way, it sounds nice for both of them, that they have time to be together here despite the setting trying to force more intimate closeness than they're apparently ready for. ]
Hmm, I wouldn't know about that. [ If he had friends here he'd be telling them everything. Which is why Vyvyan knows just as much about where his dick has been as the cameras surrounding them do. ] I don't see the harm in sharing stories of intimacy unless someone I'm with doesn't want me to share it. But my Kingdom runs on tenets of desire and the pleasure that comes with it, so I've never felt any need to sanitise the kind of creature I am, or the things I enjoy.
[ Sex should be celebrated, if you ask him, not swept into a dark corner. Because if it isn't, what does he have to show for himself but a few chinks in his foolish heart? But he understands he's got a strange outlook on things, being neither human nor entirely cat – a strange thing in the middle. He huffs, purring at the feeling of Phainon's hand drawing patterns on his skin, the contentment that comes with Phainon saying he wouldn't change anything – does that include him, too? - and entirely content to let that statement hang for a moment-- until a thought strikes him, and he chirps a sound of sudden surprise, perking his head up to study the other man. ]
Do you want me to keep what we do to myself? Not that I have any plans to go shouting about it, but if I'm asked, I can talk around it. I can leave you out of it.
[ He can't lie, of course, but he can do everything not to betray Phainon's trust. At least in this. ]
[ Phainon's life is a story, a publicised message to the world: the work of a Chrysos Heir, destined to inherit a Titan and walk a Flame Chase that will bring a better future. Walking that road millions of times, and destroying it in turn, has made him recognise the need for stories, for sharing; to bond with people you have to give a part of yourself away, and even as he settles with the Cat in his lap he is painfully aware of it.
Does he mind, if those stories are shared? It is a little embarrassing, but it's not as if it changes things. He is proud of being able to share pleasure with others, and at the same time there's a sting of something - nerves, perhaps, or uncertainty. It's clear he is giving the matter some thought, fingers playing, face nuzzling absently before he breathes out a soft sigh.
Everything is simple, until it isn't. ]
I have no concerns with people knowing you and I have been together. I'm not ashamed of the hours we've spent with one another.
[ So, if Cat wishes to tell others that the two of them have been intimate, that's fine. Absently, he tugs on the hem of the Cat's shirt, distracted, cheeks a soft gold as he tries to hide the sweet expression colouring him. ]
The specifics of what we do? I'd prefer that to be for us, and no one else.
[ Not out of embarrassment, but because the time in his bed had been glorious, and sweet, and what Phainon had needed - and it was special for it, in a way. The same as this is, sitting together and sharing thoughts, conversing, getting to know one another. It doesn't need to be shared with other people, as far as he's concerned. ]
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It felt, for a long time, as though his hands were unworthy of such sweet, simple touch.
Laughing softly, he watches Cat with a fond gaze. ]
I'll drop by, in that case.
[ Thumb moving idly, Phainon leans forward, a soft flash of concern settling over his features. ]
Do you have trouble sleeping? If you think it would help, you can come over. I wouldn't mind.
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If he thinks about it, he can imagine it so. He already thinks about him enough, and after tonight it'll be even more difficult to get him off his mind. ]
Mm, maybe I'll do just that then. I'll keep your bed niiiice and warm for you when you get back to it. Or maybe I'll sneak in while you're already snoozing and leech all your warmth.
[ He grins, but he feels like he owes that look some soothing, so he reaches out with the hand that isn't grasping the bottle, and pokes the little crease in Phainon's brow with a claw. ]
I can't shift forms as easily as I can in my own world, and I sleep better as a cat. I just can't get as comfortable. That's all.
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It should've been obvious, and in hindsight maybe it is. He feels the giggles bubble up from his stomach, and he's taking the hand not brushing idle, silly shapes into the other man's skin, reaching out to grab at the one poking him, thumb against the pulse point before he breathes out, ignoring the way he laughs softly. ]
I'm not laughing at you! I only...
[ He squeezes Cat's wrist. ]
I'm not sure why I didn't realise you were actually a cat, as well.
[ Phainon sounds a little sheepish about it too, shaking his head fondly. ]
Keep my bed warm as often as you like.
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He narrows his eyes a bit, but his expression is amused, and when Phainon grabs at his wrist he takes it as an opportunity to shift a little closer in the pantomime of scrutinising him, but in actuality because he just wanted to get close to that face. He looks good when he laughs. He looks good all the time, but the Cat likes him like this the most. Well, maybe not the most. But it's a close second. ]
What, you thought I was just a fruity human tasked with bossing a hundred and forty-six cats around? [ He quirks his eyebrow as if that's a stupid fucking idea when, to an outsider's perspective, that's exactly what his situation looks like. ] I'm a cat first, Phainon. This is a glamour I made myself.
[ Let that one sink in. His smile goes a little flatter. It doesn't disappear completely, but some of the humour certainly dissipates. ]
So if you want to change your mind about bedwarming now, it'd be a good time to do it. Otherwise I'm going to climb into your lap and kiss you.
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[ A cat first. That's something for him to unpack later, when he's not so caught up in the man next to him.
The truth is that they haven't really spoken in depth about their own histories, their backstories, the things that exist outside the bubbles of their intimacy. In hindsight, he's sure there's probably more that he could have done to bridge that gap, to try and learn a little more about Cat, but isn't that what he's doing now? A nice dinner, conversation, questions to unpick and find out as much as he can.
He isn't cruel, and he isn't unkind, not to those who are not his enemies. Cat King is no enemy, is a friend, growing dearer by the day, and Phainon leans as well, mirroring the slow movement of the man before him. With his legs where they are, they're already close, but it feels as if there's some form of magnet, something keeping them from being too distant with one another.
The hand on the Cat's leg tightens, briefly, and his smile remains small, but soft. ]
Why would I turn you away?
[ Tugging on the wrist, he brings it close, to try and press a kiss to the steady thrum of his pulse. ]
I want you right here, with me.
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If it changed anything or made Phainon feel strange, it wouldn't be the first time, and the Cat would have simply gone home and never crossed Phainon's path again. Simple. And yet he's full to the brim with the sudden rush of relief that such an outcome isn't one he has to face. He could kiss him. He will kiss him. Especially if he keeps looking at him with that soft smile, pulling his hand close to—
When Phainon kisses his wrist, the Cat's mind goes back to a soft kiss pressed to his cheek, to a fond smile and a soft nod, and remembers the way his heart had slammed in his chest as though it wanted to crawl out and follow the retreating ghost. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this. But he also thought this wouldn't, couldn't happen to him. Why shouldn't he have it, if it's being offered up to him so readily?
He slides his body forward, brushing his hand away from Phainon's mouth like he's jealous it got there before him, kissing him hard but chastely – just a press of their mouths before he's drawing back so that he can sit in his lap properly. A recreation, almost, of their first meeting. It makes him smile, sharp and pointed, before he leans down to kiss Phainon properly. Their conversation isn't over, he'll make sure of it, but now he just wants to enjoy this. ]
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In a way, he's glad he doesn't have to think of the answers to those things, glad that he can let his eyes drag over the Cat instead. It makes it easier, as it has done in the past. He can focus instead on his hands, his touch, the solid weight of his body over him, and how warm it makes him feel. How strange it is, to have a friend he cares for, one whose blood has never stained his hands, whose life has never been plundered in the hope of a better future.
Cat King does not know his violence, only his softness, and Phainon wants to keep it that way. Let him never know Khaslana, who had become the Dawn and burned all the love inside himself in the making.
Leaning into the kiss, he smiles, one arm wrapping around Cat's waist to hold him there. It's easier than the one they had shared before, that first idle flirtation becoming something more at the celebration, Phainon less nervous, less shy. He has confidence with the Cat King touching him, kissing and wanting him, knowing he can give and take and be welcomed. He trusts in that, even if his other words are buried somewhere deep inside.
It doesn't need to become sexual, but the desire remains, unable to be resisted.
Phainon keeps the kiss soft, and slow, almost sweet, basking in the heat of it. He smiles into it, his other hand sliding to the Cat's waist, to find the soft skin there and pet it, to let his fingers find his warmth and grasp onto it. It makes his chilled fingers feel better - cold to him, but likely not to anyone else, the loss of his Coreflames making all his limbs feel frozen. ]
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The Cat loves to kiss, could happily get lost in it for without so much as thinking of resurfacing, and honestly hadn't realised how much he truly missed it until he arrived in this place where physicality means everything and kissing is its own gateway drug. But he could get used to this soft directionless kind. Climbing into Phainon's bed to kiss him like this. Waking him in the morning with a kiss like this. Finding him out in the city to pull him onto a bench somewhere and kiss him, just like this. Perhaps he'll even catch him at the gym and lick the sweat off his top lip before kissing him goodbye. All stupid, ridiculous, romantic things that he's never let himself think about except in private, painful moments like these. Things he hurts himself on purpose by wanting.
He imagined them with Edwin, with Simon, and look how that turned out. But Phainon kisses him back. Phainon wants him here, with him. So... Perhaps he can covet this, in his own way, in his own mind. Perhaps this can be his and his alone.
He parts their mouths only to breathe, lifting his paws to slide appraisingly back through Phainon's soft hair, two handfuls of pale locks the way one might pet an eager dog. He laughs, soft and affectionate. ]
I could kiss you for hours. [ He heaves a dramatic sigh. ] How am I going to get anything done now...
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Below all the horror and the nightmare is the boy who wanted to be a hero, the man who raised his blade to the sky and swore to become the world's Deliverer. It feels further away at times, and too close to his heart at others, but Phainon is recognising the parts of himself that are one or the other. Phainon, a farm boy turned soldier; Khaslana, the manifestation of hate. They're both part of him now, and he is slowly coming to terms with it, accepting, understand, refusing to falter.
Pulling Cat a little tighter, he hums into the kiss, tilting into the touch of his hands, enjoying the echo of his laugh. The apartment is theirs, with no one to bother them for at least a little while, and he wants to enjoy this. There's freedom in that laugh, and something real under it, something that makes his chest feel tight and his cheeks feel hot, hands keen to touch and take and anchor. Admitting to a desire is hard, nigh impossible for Phainon, but the more time he spends here the easier it feels.
Their noses nudge, and his smile widens into a grin, tilting his head and watching the other man fondly. ]
Did you make plans for after our dinner? Should I be offended?
[ Tilting up, he noses at the Cat's jaw, brushing his mouth against the sharp edge of it, teasing, enjoying the feeling of being close. ]
No one said you had to stop kissing me.
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[ He lets the implication that he's spent any time at all prior to this meeting thinking about Phainon's mouth go unspoken, because not only should it be obvious that he has, given the texts he sent Phainon recently, but he's a little embarrassed at how much he's been thinking about it, amongst other things. ]
But I've always been bad at showing resistance. I want too much to hold myself back from it. And you, puppy, you're much too sweet to resist.
[ Is he convincing himself he simply had no chance not falling into things this honey trap of a man? Was he doomed from the start by his big eyes and his gentle face? His apprehension turned burning need that the Cat can relate to so succinctly, if not in the exact same way Phainon feels it? Who knows. But, as he smooths his hand through his hair again, tilting his head ever so slightly to watch it pass through his claws, he thinks it might not be so bad. He's survived before, he'll survive again. ]
But I feel like I should get a few more revelations out of the way before I get too carried away with you, and you answered so many of my questions before, so... Is there anything you want to ask me?
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It's a little more than that.
Nudging their noses together again, he hums softly. ]
I'll have a little restraint for us both, then.
[ Not that it stops him from letting his fingers stroke over the small of his back, not that it stops him from holding the other man closer, resting his chin against him as he gazes up. He's a little bit like putty under him, enjoying being petted and held, as if he really is a domesticated dog at the heel of his master. It would be funny if the comparison wasn't a little too close to home.
Humming, he tilts his head, eyes almost unblinking. ]
Anything I want?
[ There's a moment of consideration, and then - ]
I'd like to know what else you enjoy doing in your free time... Other than thinking about kissing me.
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Resisting Phainon feels like pressing those claws to a new couch without tarnishing it. Like taking a bite and not a mouthful. Like feeling the heat without jumping into the fire. Temptation, resistance. The Cat is weak to both.
So, though he talks a big game about not kissing Phainon's mouth, not letting himself get distracted that way... he said fucking nothing about kissing him elsewhere.
He lets Phainon rub their noses together, eyelashes flickering softly, smile going tender as he focuses in on the physicality of him; those hands at his back, the way he holds the Cat close like the only reason he's accepting the pause of their kisses is because he can still have him like this. Cute. Another tally mark on bites for later.
And at the sound of his request, he quirks his eyebrow a little, but nods his consent to answer. But not before he leans down, pressing his mouth to Phainon's jaw, and then another and another, back toward his ear and against the lobe of it. And between every kiss, he gives Phainon what he asked for: ]
I like... clothes shopping and fashion, so I like putting together outfits. I like to read, and I like to watch movies, though my choices in that department are a little- [ He nips his ear softly with his fangs, but not enough to be considered a bite, then starts down his neck. ] -limited, here. Hmmm, what else. I like to people watch. I like getting a coffee and just watching the world and the people in it go by. I like taking naps. I like buying and arranging flowers.
[ He pauses, lips to his collar, on the very precipice of going further, and then retracting to blink almost innocently at the other man. ]
Is that enough?
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The fangs make him shiver, and he swallows, tilting to offer the other man as much space and room as he might desire. ]
I've been told my sense of fashion is deplorable. [ Even if he might be fond of his ducky shirt, he knows that other people aren't. He can imagine Cat teleporting into his room for an evening embrace and coming face to face with Phainon in the rubber duck nightwear that Mydeimos had bought him, and that might well kill any attempts at sexual feeling that might have been brewing beforehand.
It makes him smile, squeezing the other man just a little tighter. ]
I've enjoyed reading a great deal too, especially histories, and other cities and people. I used to dream about seeing the world when I was younger, or visiting a great library.
[ Though that feels far out of reach, now.
Nudging up, he presses a kiss to his jaw, his chin, idle and soft. It feels almost...
Phainon nods. ]
I feel like I know you better now, so yes. Our next evening together could be a movie, or reading? If you really want to indulge, you can nap with me and Fig Stew.
[ Phainon sleeps poorly a lot of the time, and likes the idea of being able to curl up with a warm body without having to overthink what it means. ]
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Phainon doesn't seem to have any predisposed opinions about Kings or their cats, only looks at him again with that patient look and fond smile. Yet again leaping over the hurdle the Cat pushes in his way as if it were never there in the first place. It's impossible to hold back the smile that curves his mouth. ]
A nap for a second date? Phainon, you really are spoiling me.
[ He rewards him with a kiss, to the soft angle of his cheek, hands sliding to his throat, palms warm over his pulse and fingers playing in the strands of hair at the back of his head, thumbs on his jaw. ] I've travelled a little. Maybe I can tell you of some of the places in my world that I've been, the place I'm rumoured to be from, even, though I don't know how much credit there is to it. I don't remember much of my first life.
[ He kisses across his face, his nose, to the other cheek and then down to the corner of his mouth. ]
Perhaps I can dress you up some time, too. Give you something to wear that isn't quite so... deplorable.
[ He grins, then kisses him on the mouth, a press of contact, a catlike lap of his tongue. He'd kiss him deeper, too-- but something sticks in his mind, and he draws back with a quizzical look. ] ... Fig Stew?
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Lounging together, sharing soft kisses… It’s nice, fulfilling in a different way, and the conversation stops him from going into something too morose, too sad for the occasion. ]
I like to spoil my friends.
[ Which is what Cat is, isn’t it?
Smiling, he speaks, and the words come without thinking too much. ]
I don’t remember much of mine, either. The ending better than the start, but the endings of a story are often the most memorable. I’d like to hear about yours.
[ He doesn’t realise the slip, continuing along as if nothing has happened.
He continues to seek kisses, continues to touch and nuzzle and feel content, the smile on his face unwavering. It’s the calm before the storm, the quiet before Phainon realises the confession he’s just offered, a secret buried deep, deep inside himself. How funny, what contentment does. ]
I’ll show you my wardrobe later… Fig Stew might be around here somewhere. He’s a small, orange chimera. Mydeimos was given him as a gift, like you and Vyvyan.
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And yet. He wonders if Phainon does these things with all his friends, or if the Cat is special. Special enough to be in a small group of people he's been intimate with more than once, at least. Possessively, he wants to bite him. For no other reason than the fact that he can, and that he's allowed to and Phainon wants him to. What was that he just said about being normal?
Instead, he listens, he kisses him, he runs his nose along his cheek and jaw, he wonders what the fuck a chimera is. Like a dog-daughter chimera or a lion-goat-snake chimera? Or something completely different, given that Phainon's world and his share very few similarities. He imagines Phainon showing him his wardrobe. He imagines undressing him, redressing him: sending him out into the world wearing something he picked out, only to take it off again once he returns. He thinks about telling Phainon what he knows of Cat King history, of his history before Port Townsend, of Death and their agreement. He thinks about his lives, what he's lost, what he doesn't even know he's lost. He thinks of Phainon.
It's not hard to imagine Phainon might have died in his world, because he's encountered many pretty boys who are here wishing for another chance at a life tragically cut short. But Phainon had agreed in a way that makes the Cat feel like he relates less to the fact that he's died, but the fact that he's died more than once. I don't remember much of mine, either... His first life? Does he mean that literally? Or... his life before he was a soldier, or..?
Curiosity pulls like a leash, and the Cat draws back from Phainon to look at him. ]
I guess you and I are more similar than I first thought. [ His hand reaches up, cupping Phainon's cheek. ] You really are fascinating to me. Everything about you. You make me feel...
[ Perhaps it's best not to finish that thought. Perhaps it's best just to kiss him instead. ]
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Being able to literally make wishes come true in this world is another gift, and Phainon sinks into that like sliding into a warm, comfortable bath. It feels right, and soothes his hurts, and allows him to refocus his attentions: this is his duty and his role, his new Flame Chase journey. Let his new Dawn be the burning of the past and the creation of wishes, an Era Nova worthy of celebration rather than mourning.
The kiss steals his thoughts away and grounds him, arm wrapping around Cat so he can feel for his hair, scratch through it, all tenderness and want. It's not a desperate desire, enough to make him rush to tug the other man to a bedroom to sate himself, but a low, bubbling one, like leaving a good meal to simmer over a warm flame. It comforts him, and it means that he doesn't think too hard about what he's saying, the things he's confessing, mind filled with cotton and sweetness and the whispering urge for more, more, more.
Everything feels greedy. Phainon feels unworthy. He thinks of Aglaea, and Tribbie, thinks of the constant; losses are a constant on the flame chase journey. One day, they will return to their own worlds, wishes fulfilled, and he will lose Cat, just as he will lose so many others. Will it break his heart, or will he find relief in knowing their shared desires have borne fruit? Will he remember this man, who has been so good to him, worming his way into his heart?
The more time he spends with these people, the harder it will surely become.
Leaning into the touch to his cheek, Phainon frowns briefly, going over the words in his mind, before his eyes flicker a touch wider. It's obvious that he never meant to make such a confession, and his fingers tighten briefly before he breathes out. He trusts, at least, that Cat won't go gossipping about this; trusts that his missaid words won't ruin the softness of the moment between then, too easy to confess to his most layered of sins.
Leaning in, he hides his face against Cat, tucking into his jaw, his chest, humming. ]
That might explain how easy things have felt! I'm not really that interesting, though.
[ Which might not be factually true. When he tilts his head up, he seeks Cat's gaze, heart messy in his chest. ]
I do hope the rest of that sentence is a positive one.
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He sees Phainon's eyes widen, his mouth go tight, his hands flex where they touch the Cat's skin. He feels that initial surprise at something being unveiled and thinks, ah — have I found something you didn't mean to show? Instinct would have him hooking a claw in that reaction, slipping a paw beneath and slinking inside, luring the proverbial mouse out of darkness to be feasted on by his insatiable curiosity....
But he'd done that with Edwin, hadn't he? He'd pushed and pushed until he'd pushed him away, and though they're on relatively cordial terms now, his arms are still empty and his town is still quiet. He doesn't want to do that to Phainon. Not when things have been going so well, not when he's just starting to think he might have this right. So, for the first time in his life, the Cat makes a valiant effort to not fuck this up. ]
Careful. I just said we were similar. If you start calling yourself boring, I'll have to prove you wrong by showing you how captivating I can be.
[ He purrs, tilting his head up so he can survey the other man as though from upon a throne. He smiles, a pull at the corner of his mouth, finding it powerfully endearing that Phainon quite literally just hid his face in his neck like a scene out of a romance novel, and barely resisting the urge to kiss him about it. ]
And it is. Maybe I'll tell you all about that someday, too. [ He fails his self-made challenge, kissing him again, like he can't go five minutes without doing it. Or perhaps he's using it as a distraction technique, like he had before, to give Phainon something to focus on between the Cat's words: ] Though, for the record. You also make me powerfully curious. But I won't demand anything of you. I won't push unless you're ready to give. I'm not interested in doing anything you don't want to do.
[ Sexually and otherwise, the Cat values want and pleasure above all else. He's perfectly fine at creating his own misery, thank you; he doesn't need to drag that into his interactions with those he likes – if he can help it. ]
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There will come a time when he thinks he will be able to confess it all, when it is all unburdened, but now is not that time. The evening is too good, and the words too heavy; no alcohol or sweet touches will be enough to draw it out of him when he's barely been able to speak about it with the ones closest to him. If he had been able to speak to Mydeimos or Cipher, unveil the nightmare of his lifetimes, to seek out how much they knew and what anger they held, then perhaps. Until then...
Until that time rolls through him and shakes the very foundation of who he is, Phainon can cling to this instead: the way Cat holds him, touches his cheek, laughs, filled with a coy energy that has Phainon enchanted by him. He is an open book in so many ways, but when it comes to the true history of his lifetimes, to the reality of his own Flame Chase journey, the diary is bound and locked, the key hidden. The fact that Cat doesn't push for more softens the edges of him, soothes the hurt that threatened to flutter through him.
Humming softly, his smile widens. ]
Similar, but not the same. I think you're more interesting than I could ever be, partner.
[ Casual affection ladled out without pause, leaning up into the kiss.
Let his nightmares and worries be stolen by this; a simple press of mouths, a simple, easy gateway to something more, the fondness bubbling up inside of them. It seems so odd to leap so quickly into such dire affection with someone else, but the proximity, the demanded intimacy, the way that they had already touched and held one another made the rest of it seem natural.
Breathing out, Phainon kisses his jaw, mumbling against his skin. ]
... I'll tell you, when it feels like less of a burden to share.
[ So, perhaps never, because it will always be his burden, always be his nightmare to hoist and hold.
Squeezing him gently, Phainon holds Cat close, a safety net, odd as it may be. ]
You can ask me other things, for now. I've heard a saying that curiosity can do bad things to cats...
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But, he doesn't. Because Phainon says it so simply, it could have just as easily been his name, and the Cat is very good at weathering his own storms. He lets it slip, assimilating it into the formless being he is, and lets the strange feeling be worn away by Phainon's mouth. The idea that Phainon might tell him anything he keeps close one day is a heady thing to imagine, and it feels wonderful and wonderfully dangerous to imagine quiet words pressed between mouths with their bodies tangled and their hearts raw. Like he's done or will ever do anything to deserve that softness. Like he could ever allow himself that, even if the maw inside of him cries out for it.
He decides to shift closer, sliding his arms over Phainon's shoulders so the Cat can hold him closer in an almost hug rather than simply straddling him, fingers toying idly with the tips of his hair, twisting them between his claws. ]
Mmm, that's a true one. [ He scrunches up his nose, amused. ] It's a deadly thing, curiosity. What other things have you heard about cats, hm? I'll tell you which ones have some truth to them and which are lies meant to besmirch our name.
[ Half joking, he's only running his mouth while he thinks of a better question, one that – should Phainon give him a soft, tender answer – won't make the Cat feel even more stupid about him. ]
And then... tell me what you got up to after we first met. You mentioned friends, right? But I've only heard about your royal roomie. Were they scandalised you let me at you in polite company, or did they bake you a cake?
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Lounging back, he brings Cat with him, so they can be twisted up together, so they can be all entangled and wrapped up with one another, so they can share these whispered sentiments. The room is cosy, now, and Phainon hums softly, turning, chasing, watching each flicker of movement on the Cat's face, the shift of his emotions and changing moods as he drinks it in, learning.
Comfortable, he tilts his head to speak. ]
Mydeimos and I don't talk about that.
[ They don't share their conquests with one another, beyond an idle word here and there. It might be some kind of unspoken rule, that neither of them want to broach the topic with other, for fear of some kind of envy, or jealousy. Phainon can admit to a little greed when it comes to his friend; Mydeimos was his companion first, a constant in his lifetimes, and it is hard to share that with other people. It might well be the same in return, if others ask Mydei about him.
Absently, he steals another kiss, an idle, chaste brush of their lips. ]
Cipher was celebratory...? She enjoys poking fun at me, but that's to be expected.
[ Trickery, and all. ]
There haven't been any cakes so far, I'm afraid.
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Huh.
[ The Cat can't speak for typical relationship dynamics or anything like that, but he's familiar with enough tropes to see the strangeness in that. They fuck but they don't talk about who else they're fucking? Okay, sure. Really, the Cat should have seen that one coming. Best friends in sex Disneyland and all. Wouldn't be the first time he's gotten in deep with a boy who's already a particular kind of crazy about another boy.
The mention of Cipher's name makes him grin, as well as the point about the cake. ]
Well. I guess you're a creature of familiar comforts in who you fuck and who you keep as friends. I've met Cipher. I guess a Cat King was a no-brainer for you, huh?
[ He's done a little more than meet Cipher, but it feels weird to mention that he knows what she looks like naked given the current situation. Instead, he shifts to sit himself side-saddle on Phainon's lap instead of sitting over it, curling up so he can nudge his nose at the soft skin just before his ear, so that he can kiss his jawline or his neck or his mouth when he wants to, so he can watch his pulse beat under his choker, and bask in his warmth. ]
It's a good thing you've got your friends here with you. [ Soft, wistful. Phainon deserves to have as many friends as he wants, and more still. He chuckles quietly: ] Even if they don't bake you congrats on the semi-public handjob cakes.
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Content now with the cuddling, the embrace, the ease of conversation, Phainon rumbles a soft laugh. ]
It's not quite the same with Cipher and I as it is for me and you. [ Yet. ] She's an incredibly dear friend to me, and I'm glad to be able to spend more time with her here.
[ Cipher had been a distant Chrysos Heir for many of his lifetimes, and while Phainon knew why, he did miss her. Being able to sneak hours of the day at her side now is a gift that he doesn't take advantage of, even as he plays with the hem of Cat's clothing, touching his skin, idly letting himself enjoy the embrace. It's the little things that make the grander ones easier to bear, and this conversation takes the edge off his sadness.
Tilting his head, he gives space for Cat to nuzzle without question or comment, simply continuing to speak. ]
In some ways, it's been something I'd never be able to express my thanks for. In others... There are some things you don't need to hear about your friends!
[ Squeezing, he kisses the top of Cat's head. ]
Cake or otherwise, I do not think I would change any of it.
[ Meeting Cat, or having his friends with him. ]
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Hmm, I wouldn't know about that. [ If he had friends here he'd be telling them everything. Which is why Vyvyan knows just as much about where his dick has been as the cameras surrounding them do. ] I don't see the harm in sharing stories of intimacy unless someone I'm with doesn't want me to share it. But my Kingdom runs on tenets of desire and the pleasure that comes with it, so I've never felt any need to sanitise the kind of creature I am, or the things I enjoy.
[ Sex should be celebrated, if you ask him, not swept into a dark corner. Because if it isn't, what does he have to show for himself but a few chinks in his foolish heart? But he understands he's got a strange outlook on things, being neither human nor entirely cat – a strange thing in the middle. He huffs, purring at the feeling of Phainon's hand drawing patterns on his skin, the contentment that comes with Phainon saying he wouldn't change anything – does that include him, too? - and entirely content to let that statement hang for a moment-- until a thought strikes him, and he chirps a sound of sudden surprise, perking his head up to study the other man. ]
Do you want me to keep what we do to myself? Not that I have any plans to go shouting about it, but if I'm asked, I can talk around it. I can leave you out of it.
[ He can't lie, of course, but he can do everything not to betray Phainon's trust. At least in this. ]
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Does he mind, if those stories are shared? It is a little embarrassing, but it's not as if it changes things. He is proud of being able to share pleasure with others, and at the same time there's a sting of something - nerves, perhaps, or uncertainty. It's clear he is giving the matter some thought, fingers playing, face nuzzling absently before he breathes out a soft sigh.
Everything is simple, until it isn't. ]
I have no concerns with people knowing you and I have been together. I'm not ashamed of the hours we've spent with one another.
[ So, if Cat wishes to tell others that the two of them have been intimate, that's fine. Absently, he tugs on the hem of the Cat's shirt, distracted, cheeks a soft gold as he tries to hide the sweet expression colouring him. ]
The specifics of what we do? I'd prefer that to be for us, and no one else.
[ Not out of embarrassment, but because the time in his bed had been glorious, and sweet, and what Phainon had needed - and it was special for it, in a way. The same as this is, sitting together and sharing thoughts, conversing, getting to know one another. It doesn't need to be shared with other people, as far as he's concerned. ]
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