[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]