|
Spruce Street Harbor Park--a popular summer hotspot for the people of Philly. And there are a fair amount of people roaming about. It's getting late though, so people are starting to filter out. It's mostly couples wandering or people getting drunk in the beer garden now. Still, the park is beautiful and lively, with colorful hammocks hanging between the trees and colored lights hanging up everywhere. Beer to be bought in roped off areas, and plenty of food to be bought from shipping containers turned into food truck/stations, that are placed on floating barges on the river. During the day there would be stalls set up with crafts and other handmade items for sale, but they've packed up and left by now.
Simon has just finished raiding for food--some of the last plates to be bought before they finish up feeding beer-drunk patrons and pack up as well. A delicious smelling smoked sausage piled with peppers, a plate of funnel cake with fruit and chocolate, and a large beer. He carefully carries it over to sit down at a picnic table, starting to carefully eat. Even if it's street food, he's got impeccable manners. Tonight is dressed down but still ridiculously, obviously designer--navy shorts and a polo shirt, sunglasses pushed up to rest on his head to hold his hair out of his face. He must have been hanging in the beer garden, because he smells of booze.
After the past night and a half full of Peopleing and Feelings™️, it's time to not be human for a little.
And so there's a slightly scrawny cat wandering between the trees, a brown and orangey tortiseshell with longish hair and piercing blue eyes. It's slightly skittish, not approaching any of the people 'pspsps'ing at it, but not running away, either.
While the cat has no collar, its shiny, healthy coat and clear eyes make it obvious that it's no street cat.
Simon is mostly keeping to himself, not making eye contact with anyone passing by. He just wants to eat his meal and drink his beer. But cats are easy to notice, and Simon likes cats.
He sits up, looking towards the cat as it trots by. He doesn't call out, doesn't try to coax it over. Just, for now, watching with idle curiousity.
The cat does, indeed, trot by.
And then stops. Its tail, formerly at an upward diagonal, lowers slightly, the tip flicking back and forth with interest.
It turns to eye Simon, staring with those bright blue eyes for a few moments before blinking slowly. All the body language of a probably friendly, and at the very least curious and interested, cat.
Simon chews over a bite of funnel cake for a moment while examining the cat, then tears off a little chunk of sausage to toss onto the ground nearby.
The cat trots forward, sniffing at the sausage for a few moments.
But doesn't nibble at all before it sits back and lets out a plaintive 'mrow' in Simon's direction.
His nose wrinkles a little. "Beggars can't be picky," he chastises under his breath. He takes a bite of the sausage himself, chewing slowly. But when the cat presumably doesn't run away, he wipes his hands off on a napkin and leans over, wiggling fingers slowly in the feline's direction to coax closer.
There's a little 'mrrp' in response to Simon's grumbling, the tip of the cat's tail flicking back and forth along the ground as he watches the man eat.
In true cat fashion, he waits a moment or two before trotting toward Simon's fingers, giving them a sniff. And then a gentle headbutt, and another little 'mrrp', his tail a happy question mark now.
His lips twitch upwards at the headbutt, sharp-gazed eyes softening just a little. He tilts his hand to scritch along the cat's head and behind his ears. He doesn't say anything--apparently he's not the sort to start baby talking animals, at least right away.
After a few moments he pulls off another chunk of sausage and attempts to hand feed the cat this time.
The cat leeeeaaanns into the scritching, blinking slowly as his tail quivers. No purring yet, but he's rather demanding of Simon's hand, rubbing his furry face all over it.
The sausage gets another sniff, but this cat seems very much more interested in being pet than being fed.
"...Alright. Suit yourself." He tosses aside the bit of sausage, then returns to petting. After a bit of this he sets his plates aside on the bench and attempts to cautiously pick the cat up to rest on his lap.
As Simon reaches down, the cat trills and jumps up. Directly into his lap, the gentle pricks of claws just barely coming through Simon's shorts as the cat settles himself.
A moment later, he starts to purr, lifting up his head to seek out Simon's hand for more pets.
Simon blinks in surprise as the cat jumps up onto him, tensing for a moment in case the cat decides to go on a clawing spree--but then relaxes and even cracks a small smile. "Ah... you are friendly, hm?" He seems content to let the cat rest there, using both hands now to pet--one stroking along his back and the other scritching under his chin and along his cheeks. "Aren't you lovely. Do you live around here? You're too clean for an alley cat..."
The cat blinks up at Simon, tipping his head back to give the man more chin to scritch as he purrs. Those sure are some blue eyes - odd, for an adult cat.
Of course, the cat can't talk back, and yawns instead, showing sharp canines.
Simon is, alas, oblivious. He just keeps petting, and eventually when he becomes comfortable that the cat isn't going to bite him, he lifts the cat up to cradle against his chest and... nuzzles his cheek into the fluffy fur, smiling wider now.
'Mrow', says the cat, and he yawns again before nuzzling against Simon's face. He gently gnaws on the frames of the man's sunglasses in between nuzzles.
He laughs lightly as the cat nibbles at his frames, tilting his head away. "No, none of that. Stop," he says firmly, but enjoys the nuzzles otherwise. He even kisses the top of the cat's head.
"No collar... Maybe you're chipped." His smile dims into a frown, head lifting to look around at the emptying park while he idly rubs under the cat's chin. As if the cat's owner might just wander up. "Hmm..."
More, louder purring, and the cat stands to put his front paws on Simon's chest and headbutts his cheek. He spends another few seconds loving on the man before he hops back down to the ground. He starts to trot away - and stops, half turning to meow at Simon.
"Hey..." Simon frowns as the cat hops down, but doesn't immediately start after it. He hesitates, then sighs and stands. Plates are gathered and tossed away into a trash bin close to the table, then he starts to follow. "Come back here," he chides.
The cat waits until Simon is just close enough to pet him, and trots away again. Slightly further away this time before he stops and half turns again. His tail is question marked, the tip flicking occasionally.
"You little shit," Simon mutters, annoyance starting to creep into his voice. But he continues trailing after the cat, occasionally darting forward to try to pick him back up.
And the cat keeps trotting away, trilling and purring as Simon gets close.
If Simon follows, he's led into Society Hill, mere blocks away from the park on the other side of I95.
The cat runs ahead of him, then, and turns to disappear down a cobbled side street.
Simon eventually gives up on trying to catch the cat, but he does follow behind, arms tucking into the pockets of his shorts. He looks irritable, but seems committed to making sure the cat gets home alright.
The cat is nowhere to be seen, down this side street.
But there is a man. A familiar man, with the same piercing blue eyes the cat had. He's leaning against the brick building, smirking slightly as he waits for Simon.
"Hello, stranger," he murmurs when the other man turns the corner.
Simon rounds the corner, then just about jumps out of his skin in surprise, stepping back. He blinks slowly, eyes wide... then his face scrunches up in annoyance. "...Don't tell me that was you."
Cian blinks innocently. "The blue eyed cat with no interest in food?"
His eyes narrow, jaw clenching. "Did you enjoy making a fool of me?"
"A fool?" Cian seems genuinely confused. "You expressed a interest in cats, and seemed to show a rare moment of softness. I don't think that's foolish, at all." Cian's voice is soft, maybe aiming to be comforting, and he stands away from the wall.
"Would you have preferred I stay a cat? I can certainly return to the form, if you'd rather."
Simon purses his lips into a thin wide line for a moment, then looks away with a scoff. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter." He is.... he's blushing.
"Doesn't it?" Cian cocks his head. "Would you prefer to have this conversation in a more private place? My flat is..." He gestures vaguely, "two blocks away."
"Fine." He flits a hand. "Lead the way, then."
Cian's flat is, indeed, two blocks away. Somehow he's managed to secure a basement apartment among the cobbled streets of Society Hill. Wrought iron stairs lead down to a heavy door, and the window next to it has the blinds tightly drawn closed.
"I apologize for the disarray," Cian murmurs as he leads Simon inside and turns on a table lamp, bathing the room in warm light. The floor and the built in bookcases around the room are dark wood paneling, and there are books everywhere. Filling all the shelves, stacked on the table near the back of the room, in neat piles on the floor next to the small sofa (more of a loveseat, really,) and even a few on the kitchen counter. Mostly history books at first glance, from a wide range of eras and covering a multitude of subjects.
Simon follows along behind Cian, still looking broody and irritable. He glances about the cobbled streets, then follows him inside once the door is opened. "It's alright," he replies, taking in the apartment. He doesn't show any obvious signs of judgement.
He steps further inside, past him, to start looking over the spines of the books, reading titles.
While the majority of his books are history books, there's a variety of general nonfiction as well, and the bookshelves are organized by category, then alphabetical by author. There's an entire case devoted to queer history, and another for art books - a visual component to the thousands upon thousands of words that fill the space. Still another case is full of fiction - romances, a shelf of erotica. Sailors and merfolk, most of it.
"Do you drink tea? I wasn't sure your preferred brand of whisky, or I'd have picked some up."
"I do," he replies, drifting towards the erotica. He looks them over more closely. All gay? Some straight? He plucks one out to start flipping through idly.
Almost entirely gay, and there's an art book on the shelf, too...the written erotica has fairly decent writing, at least. This one seems to feature a young, inexperienced sailor who's been seduced by a group of merfolk. Nothing particularly out there, though there's some suggestion that this book might have a, actual plot and b, a not-so-happy ending. Cian glances at Simon and flushes.
"Interesting." He flips another few pages, then glances over towards Cian. "Mermaid fetish, hm?"
Cian clears his throat and moves a little closer. "I don't know that 'fetish' is the right word, but I do enjoy reading about them now and again. And not merely for the plot, as some might protest." He gives Simon a smirk. "There are a few there that don't have a single mermaid in them."
"Is it the fantasy? The fact they are so connected to the sea? Or do you truly enjoy the thought of brushing your flesh against shiny cold scales?" He tucks the book back onto the shelf, and reaches for another, non-merfolky one.
"More of the first two than the third," Cian admits. "Though my flesh can be cold, should I wish it. It does not tend to make for enjoyable sex." Another smirk. "Are you really that interested in my reading habits?"
"I'm here. I might as well sate my curiosity." He glances back at him. "Would you prefer I stop?"
"I don't actually mind. You've seen...well. I suppose I've seen more of you than the other way around, haven't I..." Cian moves to look over Simon's shoulder, not quite touching him. "I found the writing a bit boring, in that one." A beat. "Would you have preferred I stayed feline, earlier? Or were those moments of softness not something you wanted me to see?" He's practically whispering in Simon's ear.
"It is not something I consented you to see," he replies, the annoyance returning to his voice. He closes the booth with a snap, then turns around to face him--but not moving back to put more space between them. "But I am glad to know the truth now. Why were you wandering around like that?"
"I apologize." Cian levels his gaze at Simon as he turns, his tone sincere. "I wander as a cat when I need to get out of my mind for a while. It's freeing and rejuvenating, though it tends to make me hungry." He can't keep his eyes from flicking away from Simon's face to his neck. "I've been more in touch with my humanness than usual, these past few days."
Whether consciously or unconsciously, Simon's neck flexes as Cian looks, throat swallowing.
"Have you? How so?"
Cian's breath hitches, and he swallows, too. One gets the feeling that if he'd still been a cat, his pupils would be enormous, zeroed in on his intended prey. But a moment later he tears his eyes away and runs a hand through his hair.
"Phaedra and I have been...spending a bit of time together. More than 'a bit', really. The emotions that brings feel very human, and I haven't had to sit with that sort of thing in...quite some time." The last part might be an understatement, the way he says it. "While my capacity for emotions doesn't change when I'm a cat, the perspective is different enough to be refreshing. I told her about you - that we have an arrangement. It didn't feel right to keep that from her."
Simon blinks rapidly, staring. Then he does step back, his nose wrinkling with clear judgement and distaste. "I see."
"...What have I said?" Cian frowns. "She and I have grown close, emotionally, it's...rather the opposite of the relationship I have with you. That's all I meant."
"Opposite of this relationship?" he asks. "You mean you aren't fucking a girl that looks little older than a child against a wall? I certainly hope that is what you mean, Cian."
"Oh Christ no." Cian takes a step back, looking horrified. "That's not something I'd ever want from her. Ever. The fact that she trusts me enough to believe that never ceases to amaze me, but...no. Just no."
He eyes Cian for a long moment, assessing, weighing his words. Eventually... he seems to believe what Cian is saying. He nods, relaxing. "Alright."
"I seem to really be putting my foot in it with you tonight..." Cian sighs and steps away, toward the kitchen where a bright yellow kettle sits on the stove. It's slightly incongruous with the dark wood and scholarly air of the rest of the place, not to mention the nearly empty kitchen counters. "What sort of tea do you prefer?"
Simon exhales a long breath. "I apologize for... assuming. But you can hardly blame me when you start discussing... relationships and the like." He waves a hand. "Oolong, if you have it. Or black."
"You say you haven't experienced feelings like that in a very long time. Did you not feel that with Jasper?"
"Black with citrus, or rose?" Cian bustles around the kitchen.
"It was a whirlwind, with him. Phaedra and I...it's quieter. I'm not entirely sure how to explain it, or how to categorize it."
"Citrus." Simon turns away, going back to picking through the books. "I still cannot imagine developing romantic feelings for someone that looks as young as she does, but I suppose we cannot always control such things. Do you love her?"
"I'm not even sure I can categorize them as romantic. My feelings for Jasper certainly were, though I suspect the majority of that was infatuation." Cian puts the kettle on to boil and takes out a mug and a box of tea from a cabinet.
"I...trust her. I want to protect her, and I want her to keep me off balance the way she does. I'm fully aware she doesn't need protection, and that I'd do a pretty dismal job at it."
"You are doubting the feelings you had for Jasper, now?" He flips through pages slowly. "It sounds like a very strange relationship. What did she say when you told her about me?"
"No, merely that there were more involved than I really thought about, at the time." Cian chuckles, and starts back toward Simon with a smile. "That you're self-centered and have dark secrets, and will probably discard me when I'm no longer useful to you. Nothing I didn't already know."
"Hm." He sets the book aside and looks back at him as the mug is brought over. He accepts it, glancing down into the contents, then back at Cian. "She's not wrong, no."
"She doesn't know details of the nature of our relationship. Just that I feed on you, and it's therefore mutually beneficial." Cian watches Simon drink, his expression growing hungry again as he looks the man over.
He takes a testing sip of the tea, and seems to decide it's good enough, as he takes a longer sip while watching Cian. "You're hungry. If you'd like a sip, you may."
"I'd like more than that, but I've been waiting for the conversation to shift away from other relationships..." Cian catches Simon around the waist and pulls him in.
He lets himself be pulled in, holding the mug out to the side. "What did you have in mind?" he asks in a low voice.
Cian kisses Simon in response, slow and lazy, his hand tugging up the back of his shirt.
"Taking things a bit more slowly than we have, perhaps...?"
After, Simon lets out a long sigh, eyes staying closed, his body slowly starting to relax. He releases his grip on the sheets, letting his cheek rest against the bed. "Mm... That was good..."
"Uh huh." Cian slumps onto the bed next to Simon, draping a leg over one of his. He doesn't cuddle close - at least not immediately - but he does run claws gently down Simon's side.
He doesn't pull his leg back, and turns his head to face him, eyes half lid as he looks down to watch the claws drag over him. His skin goosebumps from the touch. "It sounded like you enjoyed yourself... I'm sure the blood helped."
"It did. Though I still would have enjoyed myself without the blood. It doesn't do near as much to me as it does to you." Cian leans in to give him a soft kiss.
He accepts the kiss easy enough, but doesn't prolong it. "Mm." Then, "Why don't you like being looked at during sex?"
"The same reason I prefer not to be naked." The answer comes almost immediately, and Cian shifts away slightly to better look at Simon. "It's less personal, and I prefer that."
He nods faintly, then lets his eyes close as he lets out a long sigh. "Do you have any food here?"
"Yes. Enough for twelve hours, if I've calculated correctly, and we can always order delivery for you." Cian brushes a strand of hair away from Simon's face.
That makes his eyes open to blink at him in surprise. "...You're expecting me to stay that long?"
"Not expecting, no. And most of it will keep, anyway - I bought a variety of things." But there's a slight note of hopefulness in Cian's voice as he explains.
He watches him quietly for a moment. "You want me to stay. Why?"
"Does it matter? I've never expected you to. It's merely coincidence that I even have food at all - I went shopping on the off chance I'd see you in the next few days."
"I suppose it doesn't," he says after a moment, lips twitching into a faint frown.
"Call it an investment, if you must," Cian sighs out, and flops onto his back. "But yes, I do want you to stay. If only to see you get a decent night's sleep, for once..."
That makes him look away, and he sits up just as Cian starts to get settled, running his hand over his hair. "You don't need to do that."
"Yes, but I want to." Cian reaches out to brush his hand against Simon's back.
"I don't need your help," he mutters sharply, though he doesn't pull away from the touch.
"I know." There's those claws again, gently scraping down Simon's back. "You can call me selfish, for wanting a warm body in my bed. Yours, specifically."
He shivers at the scrape, shoulders lifting a little, as he stares down at the floor. Then he breathes in a deep breath, eyes closing in defeat. The pull of the Kiss lingering in his blood and mind too much to resist. "Fine."
"Then come here. You don't have to cuddle, if you don't want to. But at least lay down. Relax." Cian gently cajoles, reaching to wrap his arm around Simon's waist.
"It will need to eat soon," he warns. "It's getting hungry." But... he lays back down, letting Cian's arm stay around his waist. He even scoots a little closer, until their sides are brushing... then rolls over so his back is facing him. Nearly spooning, if Cian still has his arm around him.
Cian does keep his arm around Simon, his claws sliding back into his regular human nails as he gets comfortable.
He only stays that way for a few minutes though, before he gives Simon a kiss on the back of the neck and slips out of bed. "I'll be right back," he murmurs, and indeed he isn't gone for very long. When he returns, he fusses with something on the nightstand, and then rearranges the blankets on the bed as best he can so Simon is covered. Only then does he slip under the covers, draping his arm around Simon again and not quite spooning.
He stays where he is, though looks up to watch him come and go. Though as Cian goes to lay down again, Simon glances away, not quite wanting to look at him.
He lays there quietly for a minute or two, then finally lets out a heavy sigh--then scoots backwards until his back and flush against Cian's chest.
There's a package wrapped in butcher paper in his hands when he comes back, which he sets on the nightstand.
When Simon scoots backward, Cian's arm tightens around him, his hand splaying across his chest. His heart is still beating, and he gives the man another soft kiss on the back of his neck. He doesn't say anything, just...holds Simon.
Simon doesn't say anything either. Just lays there, perfectly still, his body a little tense and his heart beating a little faster than it should. It's, honestly, kind of awkward.
A short time later, Cian can hear a faint whining coming from the back of Simon's head, though his hair is still covering the mouth from view. Simon finally shifts, sighing, and seems about to sit up to grab the butcher package himself, if not stopped.
Cian tightens his grip in response and sits up instead, reaching for the package to unwrap himself. He's clearly aiming to get it open before the wailing starts, and he places a gentle hand on the back of Simon's head, waiting for an okay before he moves his hair.
Simon tenses again, and at first presses against Cian's hand... but then settles down, staring at the wall ahead. He doesn't give any vocal okay, but his head tips down in consent.
Brushing the hair aside lets him see Simon's scalp splitting open in a jagged, inhuman mouth. There's teeth past skin, black and jagged, somewhere between human and predatory animal. Beyond the teeth? Darkness beyond dark, void that if Cian stares too long into leaves him feeling dizzy and nauseous and like the emptiness might suck him in, like staring into the abyss of a black hole.
Good thing Cian doesn't really need to look into the mouth to feed it. Whatever meat Cian bought has been pre cut, at least, and he feeds the thing quietly, his free hand still wrapped around Simon.
He feeds the mouth the next hour, too, and the next. Stroking Simon's side and chest gently in the time between.
Simon had laid still and tense for the first feeding, and a bit past it. But eventually the warmth of Cian's body, the blood loss, and the afterglow of sex become too much to resist. Not long after the first feeding his breathing starts to even out and his body relaxes. And he... sleeps. He sleeps as long as Cian feeds him, or until the sun comes up and Cian no longer can.
During that time, he seems to sleep restlessly. There's the occasional soft, distressed murmur. But once he's asleep he seems to subconciously seek out Cian's body, even after the Blush has worn off and his body turns cold, pressing back close against him.
|