[ 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. ]
[ He watches that handsome face consider his question, physically feeling Phainon's body struggle with the options presented to him, and finds that he himself isn't quite sure what he wants his reaction to be. If Phainon were to say no, that the Cat could do and say as he pleased, it would be an understandable reaction. He's a King, after all, and a Cat to boot. It's expected he'd do as he likes, and it's an honour he's even asking in the first place, surely. But if Phainon were to say yes... would the Cat take that as him coveting their time, or him not being sure of how others might take it? Phainon doesn't strike him as the kind of man to be ashamed of anyone he takes to bed, but if he has all these bonds and friendships already, does he really need anything else?
So his answer, twofold as it is, settles the tangled yarn of his thoughts with simple, effortless clarity, as something in him shifts at the idea that Phainon might want this part of him, any part of him, for himself. And with an intake of breath, he recognises the acute sensation of a fall in his chest. Missing a step where he's sure there should be one; a portion of the battlements inside of him crumbling to the sea that threatens to wash them away. He goes with it, always so incapable of keeping himself back from the ledge, letting himself sink completely into the awareness of what this means, and for the moment? Not giving a single fuck about any of it.
His eyes tighten, gold glittering behind black pupils widened by looking at something he likes. Phainon really is pretty when he blushes. ]
That's a very good answer, puppy.
[ And he takes Phainon's chin in hand, and kisses him. ]
[ There's no way to predict how Cat might react to any of the things he says, any of the things he does, and Phainon is learning that.
He offers things, gentle and careful, honest to a fault for he has no reason to lie. Cat doesn't know about his endless cycles or the blood on his hands, the deaths that haunt his steps, so he has no reason to think of Phainon as anything more than the man he presents himself as. When the lights are off, when there are no eyes on him, he lies in bed as a hollow shell, no mask or facade to power him - and he is trying, trying so hard to be better.
It might be much the same for Cat, parsing out what people want, what they seek, and it might be a little manipulative of Phainon, to say what is both true and what the Cat wants to hear, to get what he wants out of it as well. He knows that Cat wants him to flatter, to be sweet, but it's tinged with real, genuine feeling that it settles like a blanket of affection around him. There's no lie, there's no hidden meaning, there is just the companionship and reality of being together and sharing word and tongue.
As ever, as he always has and likely will always do, Phainon sinks into the kiss, letting himself be led, taken, letting the goodness of it warm his body as well as the man in his lap does.
[ His laugh makes the Cat laugh, feeding into each other just like they have all evening, forehead pushing against his in an affectionate little bump. ]
Mmhm, very well. So well, in fact— [ His eyes glance down Phainon's body briefly. Or at least, what part of it he can see from so close. His broad shoulders, his chest. His mouth. ] —that it makes me want dessert.
[ The culmination of feelings coming to a familiar and expected head (no pun intended) makes sense; how else do you expel emotion without fucking about it, right? And the Cat has had so few occasions where he feels comfortable enough that he doesn't think sex needs to seal the deal, to keep someone around, to ensure they come back. But this...?
Will leaving now, when things are good, be better than leaving after sex? Will it be more meaningful? Will Phainon be disappointed? Will he chase? Will he bend? Does the Cat want him to? God, he wishes he could shut the fuck up inside his head. He wishes he didn't care, didn't need to think, but he knows that being without thought only happens when he's being selfish — and though he wants to be selfish with Phainon's time, attention and body, he doesn't want to be careless of his feelings. This is different. Something about him makes him want to try. Or maybe it's simply a millennia of bad luck coming to a head, the well-worn paths of mistakes finally making him think twice, that new space in his heart wanting to grow at least a little before closing back over. Stupid romantic fool. ]
But I hear absence makes the heart grow fonder. If I put out every time we meet up, you might get bored and start working down the list of monarchs and animal archetypes in this place looking for something more exciting, hm? And I won't have that. Not when I've decided I like having you look at me.
[ The way Cat can be so perfectly honest without making himself vulnerable is a talent he excels in, and the taste of truth on his tongue, even beneath the teasing hyperbole, feels amazing. He licks the taste of it from his lips. ]
As much as I'd like to kiss you all night, maybe I shouldn't let you hit it on the first date.
[ Nevermind that they've already fucked twice, because this is different. He slides a paw down onto Phainon's chest, resting over his heart, mouth curved to a smile. ]
Leave that for the second one. I've already made it clear how much I like the look on your face when you want something.
[ Phainon would, admittedly, be more than happy to tumble away into bed without hesitation, because he likes the Cat enough to not question it.
At the same time, he finds something... Sweet about delaying it. This world is all about sex, all about coming together in a literal and metaphorical sense, so it would almost feel as if it was in service of their wishes that they had come to spend time together like this. Phainon is more than happy to just bask in the other man's company, enjoying getting to know him more, getting to spend more time with him, and it's not as if he made the offer with any real expectations.
This wasn't some barter leading to sex. It wasn't an expectation. So he isn't upset.
A hand slides down his chest, his body, and he sighs softly, leaning into it and letting himself smile. It would be easy to question this, to wonder if Cat just doesn't want him, but all the signs point to the opposite. He can overthink this later, when he's not able to focus on anything but crawling into bed and the nightmares that come hand in hand with it all.
At least Cat is smiling. That makes him feel better. ]
I don't think I'd get bored.
[ But he's not going to make the other man feel guilty. His hand moves to stroke fingers over Cat's, and he nods his head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ]
I hope you had a good time this evening, Cat. And... I hope we can have a second sometime soon.
[ The Cat is used to these silly little quips getting a laugh and maybe even a tease in return, but Phainon meets him every time with disarming honesty – or at least what seems like honesty to the Cat and his keen sense for the truth – and every time he feels his heart get softer for him. Any other man, three interactions in, might have challenged the Cat to work hard to keep his attention, might have even lured him into staying with something sultry and warm, luring him into a warm bed and a warm body. And it's nice that Phainon doesn't push him; it's sweet that he meets the Cat at his level, watches him move and then moves with him...
Even if the Cat is starting to second-guess his choices. Why would he pass up not sleeping alone, not having some ache in his body to remember Phainon by? A bite to press his fingers into? The scent of him on his clothes, at the very least...? ]
Of course I did, puppy. It's been a long time since anyone's cooked a meal for me, and you've been captivating all evening. What more could a Cat ask for... [ He wets his lip, thinking. In truth, he could ask for so much, too much, and Phainon would still hand it over. Some voice in the back of his mind purrs a quiet ultimatum, even as the Cat's hand curls a little beneath Phainon's palm. If you can resist him now, perhaps you can resist falling in love with him, too. ] Except...
[ That sensation of falling again, as Cat's lips part, as he looks at their hands pressed together, as he imagines pressing his fingers in and scooping up Phainon's heart for his own. He never stood a chance.
The movement is inevitable. He falls on Phainon like a believer at the steps of a church. His mouth on his throat, his tongue over his pulse, his body a live, crackling wire, his teeth bared. He bites him, right on the curve of throat that disappears into his shirt, sucking on his skin, groaning against him, at the taste of him. I was here, he thinks, fleetingly, wildly. Don't let this body forget 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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So his answer, twofold as it is, settles the tangled yarn of his thoughts with simple, effortless clarity, as something in him shifts at the idea that Phainon might want this part of him, any part of him, for himself. And with an intake of breath, he recognises the acute sensation of a fall in his chest. Missing a step where he's sure there should be one; a portion of the battlements inside of him crumbling to the sea that threatens to wash them away. He goes with it, always so incapable of keeping himself back from the ledge, letting himself sink completely into the awareness of what this means, and for the moment? Not giving a single fuck about any of it.
His eyes tighten, gold glittering behind black pupils widened by looking at something he likes. Phainon really is pretty when he blushes. ]
That's a very good answer, puppy.
[ And he takes Phainon's chin in hand, and kisses him. ]
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He offers things, gentle and careful, honest to a fault for he has no reason to lie. Cat doesn't know about his endless cycles or the blood on his hands, the deaths that haunt his steps, so he has no reason to think of Phainon as anything more than the man he presents himself as. When the lights are off, when there are no eyes on him, he lies in bed as a hollow shell, no mask or facade to power him - and he is trying, trying so hard to be better.
It might be much the same for Cat, parsing out what people want, what they seek, and it might be a little manipulative of Phainon, to say what is both true and what the Cat wants to hear, to get what he wants out of it as well. He knows that Cat wants him to flatter, to be sweet, but it's tinged with real, genuine feeling that it settles like a blanket of affection around him. There's no lie, there's no hidden meaning, there is just the companionship and reality of being together and sharing word and tongue.
As ever, as he always has and likely will always do, Phainon sinks into the kiss, letting himself be led, taken, letting the goodness of it warm his body as well as the man in his lap does.
When he speaks, it comes with a soft chuckle. ]
The nickname is back. I must have done well.
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Mmhm, very well. So well, in fact— [ His eyes glance down Phainon's body briefly. Or at least, what part of it he can see from so close. His broad shoulders, his chest. His mouth. ] —that it makes me want dessert.
[ The culmination of feelings coming to a familiar and expected head (no pun intended) makes sense; how else do you expel emotion without fucking about it, right? And the Cat has had so few occasions where he feels comfortable enough that he doesn't think sex needs to seal the deal, to keep someone around, to ensure they come back. But this...?
Will leaving now, when things are good, be better than leaving after sex? Will it be more meaningful? Will Phainon be disappointed? Will he chase? Will he bend? Does the Cat want him to? God, he wishes he could shut the fuck up inside his head. He wishes he didn't care, didn't need to think, but he knows that being without thought only happens when he's being selfish — and though he wants to be selfish with Phainon's time, attention and body, he doesn't want to be careless of his feelings. This is different. Something about him makes him want to try. Or maybe it's simply a millennia of bad luck coming to a head, the well-worn paths of mistakes finally making him think twice, that new space in his heart wanting to grow at least a little before closing back over. Stupid romantic fool. ]
But I hear absence makes the heart grow fonder. If I put out every time we meet up, you might get bored and start working down the list of monarchs and animal archetypes in this place looking for something more exciting, hm? And I won't have that. Not when I've decided I like having you look at me.
[ The way Cat can be so perfectly honest without making himself vulnerable is a talent he excels in, and the taste of truth on his tongue, even beneath the teasing hyperbole, feels amazing. He licks the taste of it from his lips. ]
As much as I'd like to kiss you all night, maybe I shouldn't let you hit it on the first date.
[ Nevermind that they've already fucked twice, because this is different. He slides a paw down onto Phainon's chest, resting over his heart, mouth curved to a smile. ]
Leave that for the second one. I've already made it clear how much I like the look on your face when you want something.
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At the same time, he finds something... Sweet about delaying it. This world is all about sex, all about coming together in a literal and metaphorical sense, so it would almost feel as if it was in service of their wishes that they had come to spend time together like this. Phainon is more than happy to just bask in the other man's company, enjoying getting to know him more, getting to spend more time with him, and it's not as if he made the offer with any real expectations.
This wasn't some barter leading to sex. It wasn't an expectation. So he isn't upset.
A hand slides down his chest, his body, and he sighs softly, leaning into it and letting himself smile. It would be easy to question this, to wonder if Cat just doesn't want him, but all the signs point to the opposite. He can overthink this later, when he's not able to focus on anything but crawling into bed and the nightmares that come hand in hand with it all.
At least Cat is smiling. That makes him feel better. ]
I don't think I'd get bored.
[ But he's not going to make the other man feel guilty. His hand moves to stroke fingers over Cat's, and he nods his head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ]
I hope you had a good time this evening, Cat. And... I hope we can have a second sometime soon.
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Even if the Cat is starting to second-guess his choices. Why would he pass up not sleeping alone, not having some ache in his body to remember Phainon by? A bite to press his fingers into? The scent of him on his clothes, at the very least...? ]
Of course I did, puppy. It's been a long time since anyone's cooked a meal for me, and you've been captivating all evening. What more could a Cat ask for... [ He wets his lip, thinking. In truth, he could ask for so much, too much, and Phainon would still hand it over. Some voice in the back of his mind purrs a quiet ultimatum, even as the Cat's hand curls a little beneath Phainon's palm. If you can resist him now, perhaps you can resist falling in love with him, too. ] Except...
[ That sensation of falling again, as Cat's lips part, as he looks at their hands pressed together, as he imagines pressing his fingers in and scooping up Phainon's heart for his own. He never stood a chance.
The movement is inevitable. He falls on Phainon like a believer at the steps of a church. His mouth on his throat, his tongue over his pulse, his body a live, crackling wire, his teeth bared. He bites him, right on the curve of throat that disappears into his shirt, sucking on his skin, groaning against him, at the taste of him. I was here, he thinks, fleetingly, wildly. Don't let this body forget me. ]
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