[ 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. ]
[ What Phainon expects is for the Cat to extract himself, to slip up and out of his arms and slide away, to focus once more on departing and leaving him to slide into bed alone. It's not a bad thing, to want to curl around someone at night, but he's not quite at the point where he can confess that, where he can ask for something so selfish. It's wrong, to want like this, to crave someone else and need them nearby. It's not what he was made for.
Do you still remember them, Khaslana, the one who won't reach the dawn?
A kiss goodbye doesn't seem like too much of an ask, so Phainon thinks that is what's coming. He tilts his head towards Cat, to take the kiss, to press their mouths together, but then he turns, goes lower, moving down, down, and Phainon understands.
It takes no effort at all to move, Phainon prepared to bare himself, to the bright sun mark on his neck and the line over his chest, to where those teeth have ventured before and enjoyed so much. He wonders if, one day, Cat will bite hard enough to draw golden blood, to take the very essence of his existence, real and breathing in this world when he doubts his survival in another.
It might feel nice, to feel so alive.
Hand flying up, he grips at the Cat's arm, squeezing, as he breathes out a sharp noise, a breathless moan. He can feel himself growing flustered under it, and the sound in his throat that comes is strangled and pitched, surprised and aroused all in a sweep of strength. ]
Cat... Cat. [ Gripping at him, not wanting to let go, to betray the bubble of sweet intimacy that is theirs and theirs alone. ] If you keep this up, the goodbye will be even harder.
[ Let it be hard, then, he thinks. Let it be difficult. Impossible. Cling to me. Don't let me go. Make it just as hard for me to try to.
Phainon's voice is like an anchor, but the Cat can't decide if it's holding him in place or dragging him to the bottom of the ocean. He can picture pushing his thighs open and biting him there, using magic to get him to bed, bringing him to orgasm with his hand and his teeth. He can imagine leaving marks all across him. He can imagine curling up under his chin and sleeping peacefully without even needing to shift. He feels sick with romantic ideals, he feels unsteady, he feels ravenous.
He pulls back, barely suppressing a whine of displeasure, lapping his tongue over the burnt ochre-coloured bruise blossoming under Phainon's tattoo. He can't take his eyes off it, and doesn't want to, but eventually drags his gaze up to take in the other man's flushed face. He wants to tell him he doesn't want to leave. He has to bite his own lip to stop himself, because it will surely be like a dam opening. Then he grins, laughing breathlessly, skin and blood feeling tight and hot. ]
Sorry. I just can't resist you sometimes. You drive me crazy. [ His other hand cups his cheek. He's so warm. ] That's what I was going to tell you earlier, that you make me feel helpless.
[ A small piece of himself. An apology? An explanation? Something to keep himself on Phainon's mind along with the sting of teeth in his flesh? The Cat has no idea. His hands have slipped from the leash. He smiles a little ruefully, as he straightens his spine so that he can start to move. ]
Okay, fine. You're right. I should go. I'm only interested in making one very specific thing hard for you. Best not to spoil a good record.
[ Phainon could indulge in this, could let himself, with no expectations or anything beyond sharing space and time. The depth of his capacity for love had been filled with hatred for so long that he feels powerless to do anything but fold himself around those that offer him anything sweetly, to take it to fill the empty and vacant parts of himself that feel so barren after so many lifetimes, after coming face to face with an Aeon and failing.
It would be easy to fold himself into little pieces and overthink, to wonder at his worth, but he holds his breath instead, watching the man on his lap as he rises, as he starts to move, as he admits to wanting, needing him. It makes Phainon fill with something - he's not sure what, as if allergic to the investigation, the worry merging with his own feelings and making him static, ever so briefly.
Softening, he nods, cheeks warm, heart thudding too fast, slowly rising to chase the Cat, be a good host and show him out. ]
The feeling is mutual.
[ Crazy... Phainon knows that. The empty, brainless feeling, driven by a singular emotion, his heart in his throat... He has lived with it for millions of lifetimes.
Leaning up, he presses one last kiss to Cat's lips, chaste, soft, despite the throbbing in his neck and trousers, and nods. ]
[ Mutual. Oh, the Cat could laugh. A more confident Cat, or perhaps one who just cared less, might tease Phainon about saying things he doesn't mean, or at least being careful he really knows what he's saying before he says it... but Phainon hasn't lied to him yet, and some starved and selfish part of the Cat wants it to be true the way he needs it to be, so he says nothing. Let him break off this little piece and keep it for himself.
When Phainon kisses him, he barely has a chance to kiss him back, but perhaps that's a good thing. It's so soft it almost breaks his heart. ]
Such a gentleman. [ The Cat teases, soft and fond. ] I'll expect you to pull out my chair for me next time, whatever it is we get up to. Or just let me sit on your lap straight away. Cut to the chase a bit.
[ He lets Phainon walk him out, or at least he lets him walk him to the door, because the Cat has arousal and desire and desire and desire thrumming in him, so walking out isn't really all that necessary. But if it gets him a little more time, an easy excuse to drag out his company, he'll take it. He'll bite the hand that feeds him off for it. He turns to Phainon at the door, only a few feet from where he materialised at the start of their evening, but feeling an entirely different Cat from the one he'd been then. He smiles at him, sharp but warm, wanting to remember the way he looks. ]
Don't miss me too much.
[ He winks, because of course he does, and disappears in a plume of violet flames. ]
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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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Do you still remember them, Khaslana, the one who won't reach the dawn?
A kiss goodbye doesn't seem like too much of an ask, so Phainon thinks that is what's coming. He tilts his head towards Cat, to take the kiss, to press their mouths together, but then he turns, goes lower, moving down, down, and Phainon understands.
It takes no effort at all to move, Phainon prepared to bare himself, to the bright sun mark on his neck and the line over his chest, to where those teeth have ventured before and enjoyed so much. He wonders if, one day, Cat will bite hard enough to draw golden blood, to take the very essence of his existence, real and breathing in this world when he doubts his survival in another.
It might feel nice, to feel so alive.
Hand flying up, he grips at the Cat's arm, squeezing, as he breathes out a sharp noise, a breathless moan. He can feel himself growing flustered under it, and the sound in his throat that comes is strangled and pitched, surprised and aroused all in a sweep of strength. ]
Cat... Cat. [ Gripping at him, not wanting to let go, to betray the bubble of sweet intimacy that is theirs and theirs alone. ] If you keep this up, the goodbye will be even harder.
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Phainon's voice is like an anchor, but the Cat can't decide if it's holding him in place or dragging him to the bottom of the ocean. He can picture pushing his thighs open and biting him there, using magic to get him to bed, bringing him to orgasm with his hand and his teeth. He can imagine leaving marks all across him. He can imagine curling up under his chin and sleeping peacefully without even needing to shift. He feels sick with romantic ideals, he feels unsteady, he feels ravenous.
He pulls back, barely suppressing a whine of displeasure, lapping his tongue over the burnt ochre-coloured bruise blossoming under Phainon's tattoo. He can't take his eyes off it, and doesn't want to, but eventually drags his gaze up to take in the other man's flushed face. He wants to tell him he doesn't want to leave. He has to bite his own lip to stop himself, because it will surely be like a dam opening. Then he grins, laughing breathlessly, skin and blood feeling tight and hot. ]
Sorry. I just can't resist you sometimes. You drive me crazy. [ His other hand cups his cheek. He's so warm. ] That's what I was going to tell you earlier, that you make me feel helpless.
[ A small piece of himself. An apology? An explanation? Something to keep himself on Phainon's mind along with the sting of teeth in his flesh? The Cat has no idea. His hands have slipped from the leash. He smiles a little ruefully, as he straightens his spine so that he can start to move. ]
Okay, fine. You're right. I should go. I'm only interested in making one very specific thing hard for you. Best not to spoil a good record.
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It would be easy to fold himself into little pieces and overthink, to wonder at his worth, but he holds his breath instead, watching the man on his lap as he rises, as he starts to move, as he admits to wanting, needing him. It makes Phainon fill with something - he's not sure what, as if allergic to the investigation, the worry merging with his own feelings and making him static, ever so briefly.
Softening, he nods, cheeks warm, heart thudding too fast, slowly rising to chase the Cat, be a good host and show him out. ]
The feeling is mutual.
[ Crazy... Phainon knows that. The empty, brainless feeling, driven by a singular emotion, his heart in his throat... He has lived with it for millions of lifetimes.
Leaning up, he presses one last kiss to Cat's lips, chaste, soft, despite the throbbing in his neck and trousers, and nods. ]
Let me walk you out, at least.
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When Phainon kisses him, he barely has a chance to kiss him back, but perhaps that's a good thing. It's so soft it almost breaks his heart. ]
Such a gentleman. [ The Cat teases, soft and fond. ] I'll expect you to pull out my chair for me next time, whatever it is we get up to. Or just let me sit on your lap straight away. Cut to the chase a bit.
[ He lets Phainon walk him out, or at least he lets him walk him to the door, because the Cat has arousal and desire and desire and desire thrumming in him, so walking out isn't really all that necessary. But if it gets him a little more time, an easy excuse to drag out his company, he'll take it. He'll bite the hand that feeds him off for it. He turns to Phainon at the door, only a few feet from where he materialised at the start of their evening, but feeling an entirely different Cat from the one he'd been then. He smiles at him, sharp but warm, wanting to remember the way he looks. ]
Don't miss me too much.
[ He winks, because of course he does, and disappears in a plume of violet flames. ]