rapacityinblue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rapacityinblue) wrote2012-01-01 07:11 pm
rapacityinblue) wrote2012-01-01 07:11 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Restless House Cat
Fandom: DDD (And by extention: Final Fantasy VII, AMC's The Prisoner, and Sayonara, Zetubou-Sensei)
Spoilers: For DDD canon
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Reeve's been neglecting 11-12 and his lover takes matters into his own hands.
Pairing: Reeve/11-12
Word Count: 3250
Warnings: Slash, graphic sex.
Notes: Written for Sage.500themes prompt #44 - I covet you. Nano fic, unbeta'd.
He knew he was leaving 11-12 alone to much, and he really did feel badly about it. A quick glance at the clock was enough to make him wince -- sixteen hours in the office today alone. He hadn’t even made it upstairs for lunch today, and he usually tried to squeeze at least an hour in with his lover if he knew he was going to be working late. He tried to remember if the boy had had plans -- if he’d gone out, worldhopped to visit one of his friends, at least Reeve could feel slightly better about leaving him alone all day. Except he was fairly certain that when he’d left this morning (if you could call it morning; the sun hadn’t even been up) the boy had been curled in bed with a novel and absolutely no intention of leaving.
It was like a rodent, a pest, gnawing at the corner of his mind while he tried to work. They were three days from the launch of the solar program, and it wasn’t like he had a derth of work in the first place. He shouldn’t be thinking about 11-12 now. It was his own leisure time shrinking away, disintigrating.
But he couldn’t not think about 11-12. The boy had proven more than once what a dangerous thing it was to leave him to his own devices, especially if he were feeling lonely or insecure. Over the past few weeks he’d been getting out more, spending time with his friends and exploring his interests, but still, leaving him alone was like an itch in the very center of Reeve’s back. He couldn’t scratch it. He couldn’t think about anything else. And finally, he ended up closing the files he was reviewing, folding his laptop shut, and standing. Either his chair or his knees gave a distinct crack as he straightened and he winced, eyeing the clock again. Had it really been that long?
Apparently so. Even Vincent was looking faintly glazed when he stepped out of the office, and his friend didn’t bother disguising his gratitude as they walked in step to the elevator. Reeve thought about offering him an apology, having him come in late the next morning, but they didn’t do that. At best, Vincent might consider it an insult, questioning his own abilities. Or he’d just give Reeve that particular look he reserved for people who were being particularly stupid. Even the thought of it made Reeve flinch -- there was a reason he liked to have his bodyguard sit behind him in meetings, looking directly at whoever he was trying to bully. One of them was much more intimidating than the other, and Reeve had absolutely no doubt as to which of them it was.
Instead, he responded to the other man’s quiet goodnight before stepping into the narrow box, pushing the button that would take him up to the private levels of HQ.
He let himself in and went first to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and draining it almost as quickly. “I’m sorry,” he called, seeing that the light was still on in their bedroom. He hadn’t wanted 11-12 to wait up for him, and the guilt only deepened, pulling at his stomach. “I’ll be right in, sweetheart,” he added, continuing on to the bathroom. He flipped on the water, running it over his tooth paste, and assumed he’d missed the sound of his lover’s reply. If he’d realized there’d never been one, he might have made his way more quickly to their bedroom. It took him several minutes, and he still, he wasn’t looking toward the bed when he finally entered the room, loosening the tie around his neck.
All in all, he’d seen worse things. He definitely could have walked into a much more terrible situation, he reflected later, and however legitimate the demands work made on his time, it didn’t excuse the fact that he had been neglectful. He’d driven 11-12 to this, made him think a drastic action was necessary to recapture Reeve’s attention.
The boy sat cross-legged in the center of their bed, his head dipped to stare at the sheets that were twisted around him. In his position, Reeve didn’t think he’d be able to look anyone in the eye, either. 11-12’s hair, messy to begin with, fell forward into his eyes, but didn’t quite disguise the delicately pointed ear tips poking through the strands. He couldn’t help being curious, so he glanced lower, and yes, there was a tail, too, held flush against his body only by straps across his hips and thighs. If the additions had been organic, Reeve suspected the poor boy would have wrapped it around himself -- it would have provided some protection, at least, more than the collar around his neck which, except for the leash connecting it to the headboard, seemed to be all 11-12 was wearing.
“If I’d known you were waiting for me, I would have come home sooner,” Reeve murmured, taking his seat beside the boy. He reached out to trace around the shell of his ear -- his real ear -- his fingers tangling in the strands of his hair. 11-12 tipped his head toward the touch and looked up at him. He was blushing, the red spreading over his cheeks and the hollow of his throat. Reeve couldn’t really blame him for it. “Sweetheart, how long have you been like this?” he asked carefully.
“About an hour,” 11-12 answered, the uncertainty clear in his voice. “When I thought you might come home.”
Reeve felt warring emotions as he considered the younger man -- guilt, still, for leaving him so long, but also for setting up a pattern that made the boy expect him home late in the first place -- but also a rising sense of confusion and absurdity. His lover had been like this for an hour, maybe longer, naked and tethered and -- why?
“Sweetheart --” Laughing would only hurt the boy’s feelings, but he didn’t know how else to respond. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said eventually, amusement evident in his voice (he just couldn’t keep it out) but at least he managed a straight face. Mostly.
If 11-12 really had a tail, it would probably be lashing now. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, his brow folding into a frown as he looked up at Reeve.
“You’ve been working so late,” he said, clearly uncertain. There was a distinct note of unhappiness in his voice, too, one that Reeve was familiar with. He hadn’t heard it in a long time, not since the first few weeks after 11-12 had arrived here from the Village. He’d thought they’d moved past it.
No, they had moved past it, and now he’d brought it back.
Still, even though 11-12 was right, it wasn’t like he could neglect his duties at work, either. He tried again, beginning, “Sweetheart --” but 11-12 cut him off, fierce and determined.
“You haven’t been home before bedtime in weeks,” the boy said, “And most of the time you aren’t coming back for lunch or dinner, either.”
“I’m sorry,” Reeve said. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone so much.” Now was neither the time or the place to point out that 11-12 knew the kind of demands his job placed on him. Whether they were there or not, he should have been more attentive. Still, it didn’t entirely explain what was happening in his bed. “I’m still not sure about all of this, though.” He waved a hand at the bedroom setup to make it clear exactly what he meant by “all of this,” and 11-12 blushed again, deeper, and shifted on the bed.
“It seems like you’ve been really unhappy,” he said, his eyes earnest as he looked up to Reeve. He fidgeted when he added, “And it’s been a really long time since we -- you know.” The hesitancy in his voice spaced out the words, making them sound choked off and stilted.
It hadn’t been that long, Reeve wanted to protest, except that in all honesty, that would be a lie. It had been almost two weeks since the last time, a sleepy, early morning handjob that had had 11-12 almost purring beneath him as he twisted against the sheets.
“Well, you have my attention now,” he assured the younger man, moving his fingers up to trace the tip of the artificial ears.
11-12 still looked unconvinced, though, his fingers picking at the blanket as he looked back down. “This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to,” he murmured, almost sullenly, and again Reeve had to choke back a laugh.
“You got this off of the community, love, didn’t you?” he asked.
“That girl said it would work for sure!” 11-12 grew more and more petulant with every passing moment, his fingers digging into their bedding in his frustration. Reeve dropped his hand to the back of his neck, stroking with just his fingertips along the dips and curves down to the base of his spine, where the tail was anchored.
“Which girl?” He didn’t really need to ask. He could guess, and it wasn’t like a particularly big leap to the correct answer. “It was Miss Fujiyoshi, wasn’t it? I’ve told you not to listen to her.”
“But she’s an expert!”
“Yes, in her own mind,” Reeve soothed. He dropped a kiss on top of 11-12’s head, enjoying the way the boy stretched and relaxed as he continued to pet his back. “And what, exactly, did she say would happen if you dressed yourself this way and tied yourself to my bed?”
“She -- she said--” 11-12’s voice stuttered as Reeve’s fingers slid down, circling around the base of his tail. He let his fingers fall into the cleft of 11-12’s ass, teasing slightly before he began the path back up his spine. His fingers lingered over the knob each vertebra before coming to rest at the base of his neck, pulling him up and forward. “She said you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me.”
“That sounds like something she’d say.” Their lips were so close that every word had them brush together, only a breath from kissing. “What else?” He dipped his head, breaking the slight contact to press kisses along 11-12’s neck. He worked a path down until his nose hit the boy’s shoulder, over the leather band of the collar, pausing to take in his scent.
“She said men can’t resist cat boys,” 11-12 said, making Reeve snort. “She said that you’d want to touch and kiss my ears because they’d make me look so exotic.”
Reeve laughed and raised his head again. He nuzzled the gentle points of the cat ears, taking some satisfaction in the gentle cries from the boy as the ears pulled at his hair, but returned quickly to the soft curves of his real ears. He ran his tongue along the shell of the cartilage, catching the flesh of the lobe between his teeth and tugging.
“She said you’d pull on my tail, too.” 11-12’s voice was growing more unsteady, climbing higher as Reeve teased him. He moved a hand down, his fingers parting around the tail to press against the flesh of his ass.
“Like this?” he asked, massaging the muscle. The boy squirmed closer to him, sliding almost into his lap, and he laughed softly against 11-12’s ear.
The question went unanswered as he felt the younger man’s body relaxing against him. His other hand moved over 11-12’s arms and shoulders, exploring the lines of his muscles before pulling him closer. He could feel the heat radiating off of his lover’s bare body, comforting through the layers of his suit. Skin to skin, the warmth was almost searing, especially when 11-12’s fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt and splayed against his chest.
“So, you posted to the community asking for the advice, and they told you to dress like a cat to grab my attention. That doesn’t explain why you tied yourself to my bed.” He slipped a finger under the smooth leather collar, resting it against 11-12’s pulse. He felt the rise and fall of the boy’s chest as he breathed, heavy and slow with the passion of the moment. 11-12 tipped his head back to open himself up to Reeve, but his eyes were still open, and they sought out the older man’s almost shyly.
“Because I’m yours,” he said, the blush flaming his across his cheeks again before he swallowed, self consciously, and added, “besides, they’re always telling me to tie you up, but I didn’t think you’d like that, and I couldn’t really do it if you weren’t here, anyway.”
Reeve had stopped listening sometime after the first sentence, and he pushed 11-12 back to the bed with the force of his kiss. His fingers slid free of the collar, skimming along it before moving down, sliding across the skin between them. He felt the shirt being pushed from his shoulders, his bare skin sliding against 11-12’s as they pressed together. Pants followed the shirt, and he slid his knee between the younger man’s thighs, only the thin fabric of his boxers left to separate them.
He felt 11-12 against him, growing harder now from the direct contact to his cock. They rocked together, the fabric bunching and dragging between their lengths. 11-12 mewled softly beneath him, pushing up for more contact, his tail trapped between his back and the bed. Reeve slipped a hand between his legs to tug it free, drawing it up to rub against his balls and along his hardness, enjoying the contrast of the soft fur and the firm heat in his hand.
He reached with his other hand to unhook the leash from 11-12’s collar before the boy could hurt himself. Instead, he twisted it around his lover’s wrists, pulling him down the bed until his arms were stretched above him. He bent his neck again, dropping his lips to the boy’s chest to press kisses against the smooth skin. His tongue lathed over a nipple, leaving the tiny bud damp and tense when he pulled away to move further down.
The silence of the room grew heavier, pressing against them both as Reeve found the lube and slicked his fingers. He took 11-12’s length between his lips in the same instant as he pressed the first slick finger into him. It really had been too long. 11-12 opened to him, but not without a moment’s resistance, the push of a body that had grown tense and tight after not being touched. He apologized with lips and tongue, lavishing attention on his lover’s cock in a silent promise not to leave him alone again.
A second finger followed the first, scissoring to open 11-12. His lips, tight beneath the flare of 11-12’s head as he sucked, released with a damp pop as he began kissing down the underside of his length, lower, until he could spread the boy open and slide his tongue across the pucker. 11-12 tensed against him, then relaxed just as suddenly with a quiet keen as Reeve’s tongue slid inside him. His fingers dug into the mattress and he rocked back against Reeve’s tongue, his body opening under the touch.
Reeve pulled back, his eyes skimming along 11-12’s bare form. He reached down to push his boxers over his hips, running his hand along his cock for a few quick strokes before pushing it to his lover’s opening.
They slid together with a quiet moan, Reeve sinking deep into the warmth of his lover’s body. 11-12 was stretched tight beneath him, his arms caught by the leash, leaving him open to Reeve’s touch. He ran his fingers over the skin of of the boy’s abs, tracing the definition of the muscle as he began to rock into the other man. It started with slow, shallow thrusts, the rhythm building slowly, and 11-12 drew his knees up alongside Reeve’s body, his heels digging into the mattress and his hips canting up as he moved against the older man in return.
They pushed together, deep and steady and faster until Reeve felt his arms give under his weight. He lowered himself to 11-12, letting the drag of their bodies together build as he rocked his hips against his lover’s length. He shifted, pushing deeper until he hit a spot inside 11-12 that made the younger man scream. With every thrust, he watched 11-12 twist, tangling in the leash that held him until finally he came, his body tensing wildly under Reeve’s. The sudden pressure around his length was too much, and he held on another thrust, two, before he followed 11-12 over the edge, their bodies falling together to the bed as they struggled for breath.
It was a long few minutes before Reeve could shift, reaching to untangle the leash from where he’d hastily looped it around his lover’s arms. He slid his hands along the lines of his lover’s shoulders, his fingertips pressing hard into the skin to massage back in the flow of blood. He felt 11-12 relax below him in a post orgasmic haze, his body loose and pliant as Reeve worked him.
Next at hand was the collar, which he deftly unbuckled and pulled free of his lover’s body. There was a faint redness beneath it, where it had rubbed the skin as 11-12 twisted and writhed against the pillows, and Reeve kissed the skin until the mark had faded away from his skin. “Next time, to catch my attention, you could try a text message or perhaps a voicemail,” he teased, settling with his lover in his arms. 11-12 settled against him, a warm, solid weight, and drew the blankets to create a nest for them to rest in.
“Why?” he asked with sleepy confusion. “Harumi was right, it worked fine.”
Reeve gave a hoarse laugh and tucked his nose to the crook of his lover’s shoulder, leaving a kiss against the skin there. His fingers carded through the boy’s hair, dislodging the ears, and traveled down to slide the elastic free of his hips, letting the tail get lost in the mess of sheets and blankets. “If this was her introductory idea, I hate to see what she comes up with next time,” he murmured, although he couldn’t really argue the point. She had proven very effective.
11-12 gave a sleepy, contented hum and pushed to his chest. “Do you have to leave in the morning?” he asked, and Reeve felt the pang of the guilt returning. He pushed himself closer to the boy and kissed his nose. Only three days until the solar reactors launched, and then he would make it up to his lover.
“I do. But I’m yours until then,” he promised, earning another sleepy agreement from his lover. “After a nap,” he amended, because he didn’t think he could keep his lover awake even if he wanted to.
11-12 answered with the soft sound of his breathing evening out into sleep, and Reeve watched him for a long moment. His lover looked relaxed this way, calmer, the way Reeve wanted him to feel all the time. He wouldn’t screw it up again, he told himself fiercely, and pressed a kiss to the boy’s smooth forehead before closing his own eyes. This time, he’d get it right.
Fandom: DDD (And by extention: Final Fantasy VII, AMC's The Prisoner, and Sayonara, Zetubou-Sensei)
Spoilers: For DDD canon
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Reeve's been neglecting 11-12 and his lover takes matters into his own hands.
Pairing: Reeve/11-12
Word Count: 3250
Warnings: Slash, graphic sex.
Notes: Written for Sage.
500themes prompt #44 - I covet you. Nano fic, unbeta'd.He knew he was leaving 11-12 alone to much, and he really did feel badly about it. A quick glance at the clock was enough to make him wince -- sixteen hours in the office today alone. He hadn’t even made it upstairs for lunch today, and he usually tried to squeeze at least an hour in with his lover if he knew he was going to be working late. He tried to remember if the boy had had plans -- if he’d gone out, worldhopped to visit one of his friends, at least Reeve could feel slightly better about leaving him alone all day. Except he was fairly certain that when he’d left this morning (if you could call it morning; the sun hadn’t even been up) the boy had been curled in bed with a novel and absolutely no intention of leaving.
It was like a rodent, a pest, gnawing at the corner of his mind while he tried to work. They were three days from the launch of the solar program, and it wasn’t like he had a derth of work in the first place. He shouldn’t be thinking about 11-12 now. It was his own leisure time shrinking away, disintigrating.
But he couldn’t not think about 11-12. The boy had proven more than once what a dangerous thing it was to leave him to his own devices, especially if he were feeling lonely or insecure. Over the past few weeks he’d been getting out more, spending time with his friends and exploring his interests, but still, leaving him alone was like an itch in the very center of Reeve’s back. He couldn’t scratch it. He couldn’t think about anything else. And finally, he ended up closing the files he was reviewing, folding his laptop shut, and standing. Either his chair or his knees gave a distinct crack as he straightened and he winced, eyeing the clock again. Had it really been that long?
Apparently so. Even Vincent was looking faintly glazed when he stepped out of the office, and his friend didn’t bother disguising his gratitude as they walked in step to the elevator. Reeve thought about offering him an apology, having him come in late the next morning, but they didn’t do that. At best, Vincent might consider it an insult, questioning his own abilities. Or he’d just give Reeve that particular look he reserved for people who were being particularly stupid. Even the thought of it made Reeve flinch -- there was a reason he liked to have his bodyguard sit behind him in meetings, looking directly at whoever he was trying to bully. One of them was much more intimidating than the other, and Reeve had absolutely no doubt as to which of them it was.
Instead, he responded to the other man’s quiet goodnight before stepping into the narrow box, pushing the button that would take him up to the private levels of HQ.
He let himself in and went first to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and draining it almost as quickly. “I’m sorry,” he called, seeing that the light was still on in their bedroom. He hadn’t wanted 11-12 to wait up for him, and the guilt only deepened, pulling at his stomach. “I’ll be right in, sweetheart,” he added, continuing on to the bathroom. He flipped on the water, running it over his tooth paste, and assumed he’d missed the sound of his lover’s reply. If he’d realized there’d never been one, he might have made his way more quickly to their bedroom. It took him several minutes, and he still, he wasn’t looking toward the bed when he finally entered the room, loosening the tie around his neck.
All in all, he’d seen worse things. He definitely could have walked into a much more terrible situation, he reflected later, and however legitimate the demands work made on his time, it didn’t excuse the fact that he had been neglectful. He’d driven 11-12 to this, made him think a drastic action was necessary to recapture Reeve’s attention.
The boy sat cross-legged in the center of their bed, his head dipped to stare at the sheets that were twisted around him. In his position, Reeve didn’t think he’d be able to look anyone in the eye, either. 11-12’s hair, messy to begin with, fell forward into his eyes, but didn’t quite disguise the delicately pointed ear tips poking through the strands. He couldn’t help being curious, so he glanced lower, and yes, there was a tail, too, held flush against his body only by straps across his hips and thighs. If the additions had been organic, Reeve suspected the poor boy would have wrapped it around himself -- it would have provided some protection, at least, more than the collar around his neck which, except for the leash connecting it to the headboard, seemed to be all 11-12 was wearing.
“If I’d known you were waiting for me, I would have come home sooner,” Reeve murmured, taking his seat beside the boy. He reached out to trace around the shell of his ear -- his real ear -- his fingers tangling in the strands of his hair. 11-12 tipped his head toward the touch and looked up at him. He was blushing, the red spreading over his cheeks and the hollow of his throat. Reeve couldn’t really blame him for it. “Sweetheart, how long have you been like this?” he asked carefully.
“About an hour,” 11-12 answered, the uncertainty clear in his voice. “When I thought you might come home.”
Reeve felt warring emotions as he considered the younger man -- guilt, still, for leaving him so long, but also for setting up a pattern that made the boy expect him home late in the first place -- but also a rising sense of confusion and absurdity. His lover had been like this for an hour, maybe longer, naked and tethered and -- why?
“Sweetheart --” Laughing would only hurt the boy’s feelings, but he didn’t know how else to respond. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said eventually, amusement evident in his voice (he just couldn’t keep it out) but at least he managed a straight face. Mostly.
If 11-12 really had a tail, it would probably be lashing now. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, his brow folding into a frown as he looked up at Reeve.
“You’ve been working so late,” he said, clearly uncertain. There was a distinct note of unhappiness in his voice, too, one that Reeve was familiar with. He hadn’t heard it in a long time, not since the first few weeks after 11-12 had arrived here from the Village. He’d thought they’d moved past it.
No, they had moved past it, and now he’d brought it back.
Still, even though 11-12 was right, it wasn’t like he could neglect his duties at work, either. He tried again, beginning, “Sweetheart --” but 11-12 cut him off, fierce and determined.
“You haven’t been home before bedtime in weeks,” the boy said, “And most of the time you aren’t coming back for lunch or dinner, either.”
“I’m sorry,” Reeve said. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone so much.” Now was neither the time or the place to point out that 11-12 knew the kind of demands his job placed on him. Whether they were there or not, he should have been more attentive. Still, it didn’t entirely explain what was happening in his bed. “I’m still not sure about all of this, though.” He waved a hand at the bedroom setup to make it clear exactly what he meant by “all of this,” and 11-12 blushed again, deeper, and shifted on the bed.
“It seems like you’ve been really unhappy,” he said, his eyes earnest as he looked up to Reeve. He fidgeted when he added, “And it’s been a really long time since we -- you know.” The hesitancy in his voice spaced out the words, making them sound choked off and stilted.
It hadn’t been that long, Reeve wanted to protest, except that in all honesty, that would be a lie. It had been almost two weeks since the last time, a sleepy, early morning handjob that had had 11-12 almost purring beneath him as he twisted against the sheets.
“Well, you have my attention now,” he assured the younger man, moving his fingers up to trace the tip of the artificial ears.
11-12 still looked unconvinced, though, his fingers picking at the blanket as he looked back down. “This isn’t going the way it’s supposed to,” he murmured, almost sullenly, and again Reeve had to choke back a laugh.
“You got this off of the community, love, didn’t you?” he asked.
“That girl said it would work for sure!” 11-12 grew more and more petulant with every passing moment, his fingers digging into their bedding in his frustration. Reeve dropped his hand to the back of his neck, stroking with just his fingertips along the dips and curves down to the base of his spine, where the tail was anchored.
“Which girl?” He didn’t really need to ask. He could guess, and it wasn’t like a particularly big leap to the correct answer. “It was Miss Fujiyoshi, wasn’t it? I’ve told you not to listen to her.”
“But she’s an expert!”
“Yes, in her own mind,” Reeve soothed. He dropped a kiss on top of 11-12’s head, enjoying the way the boy stretched and relaxed as he continued to pet his back. “And what, exactly, did she say would happen if you dressed yourself this way and tied yourself to my bed?”
“She -- she said--” 11-12’s voice stuttered as Reeve’s fingers slid down, circling around the base of his tail. He let his fingers fall into the cleft of 11-12’s ass, teasing slightly before he began the path back up his spine. His fingers lingered over the knob each vertebra before coming to rest at the base of his neck, pulling him up and forward. “She said you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me.”
“That sounds like something she’d say.” Their lips were so close that every word had them brush together, only a breath from kissing. “What else?” He dipped his head, breaking the slight contact to press kisses along 11-12’s neck. He worked a path down until his nose hit the boy’s shoulder, over the leather band of the collar, pausing to take in his scent.
“She said men can’t resist cat boys,” 11-12 said, making Reeve snort. “She said that you’d want to touch and kiss my ears because they’d make me look so exotic.”
Reeve laughed and raised his head again. He nuzzled the gentle points of the cat ears, taking some satisfaction in the gentle cries from the boy as the ears pulled at his hair, but returned quickly to the soft curves of his real ears. He ran his tongue along the shell of the cartilage, catching the flesh of the lobe between his teeth and tugging.
“She said you’d pull on my tail, too.” 11-12’s voice was growing more unsteady, climbing higher as Reeve teased him. He moved a hand down, his fingers parting around the tail to press against the flesh of his ass.
“Like this?” he asked, massaging the muscle. The boy squirmed closer to him, sliding almost into his lap, and he laughed softly against 11-12’s ear.
The question went unanswered as he felt the younger man’s body relaxing against him. His other hand moved over 11-12’s arms and shoulders, exploring the lines of his muscles before pulling him closer. He could feel the heat radiating off of his lover’s bare body, comforting through the layers of his suit. Skin to skin, the warmth was almost searing, especially when 11-12’s fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt and splayed against his chest.
“So, you posted to the community asking for the advice, and they told you to dress like a cat to grab my attention. That doesn’t explain why you tied yourself to my bed.” He slipped a finger under the smooth leather collar, resting it against 11-12’s pulse. He felt the rise and fall of the boy’s chest as he breathed, heavy and slow with the passion of the moment. 11-12 tipped his head back to open himself up to Reeve, but his eyes were still open, and they sought out the older man’s almost shyly.
“Because I’m yours,” he said, the blush flaming his across his cheeks again before he swallowed, self consciously, and added, “besides, they’re always telling me to tie you up, but I didn’t think you’d like that, and I couldn’t really do it if you weren’t here, anyway.”
Reeve had stopped listening sometime after the first sentence, and he pushed 11-12 back to the bed with the force of his kiss. His fingers slid free of the collar, skimming along it before moving down, sliding across the skin between them. He felt the shirt being pushed from his shoulders, his bare skin sliding against 11-12’s as they pressed together. Pants followed the shirt, and he slid his knee between the younger man’s thighs, only the thin fabric of his boxers left to separate them.
He felt 11-12 against him, growing harder now from the direct contact to his cock. They rocked together, the fabric bunching and dragging between their lengths. 11-12 mewled softly beneath him, pushing up for more contact, his tail trapped between his back and the bed. Reeve slipped a hand between his legs to tug it free, drawing it up to rub against his balls and along his hardness, enjoying the contrast of the soft fur and the firm heat in his hand.
He reached with his other hand to unhook the leash from 11-12’s collar before the boy could hurt himself. Instead, he twisted it around his lover’s wrists, pulling him down the bed until his arms were stretched above him. He bent his neck again, dropping his lips to the boy’s chest to press kisses against the smooth skin. His tongue lathed over a nipple, leaving the tiny bud damp and tense when he pulled away to move further down.
The silence of the room grew heavier, pressing against them both as Reeve found the lube and slicked his fingers. He took 11-12’s length between his lips in the same instant as he pressed the first slick finger into him. It really had been too long. 11-12 opened to him, but not without a moment’s resistance, the push of a body that had grown tense and tight after not being touched. He apologized with lips and tongue, lavishing attention on his lover’s cock in a silent promise not to leave him alone again.
A second finger followed the first, scissoring to open 11-12. His lips, tight beneath the flare of 11-12’s head as he sucked, released with a damp pop as he began kissing down the underside of his length, lower, until he could spread the boy open and slide his tongue across the pucker. 11-12 tensed against him, then relaxed just as suddenly with a quiet keen as Reeve’s tongue slid inside him. His fingers dug into the mattress and he rocked back against Reeve’s tongue, his body opening under the touch.
Reeve pulled back, his eyes skimming along 11-12’s bare form. He reached down to push his boxers over his hips, running his hand along his cock for a few quick strokes before pushing it to his lover’s opening.
They slid together with a quiet moan, Reeve sinking deep into the warmth of his lover’s body. 11-12 was stretched tight beneath him, his arms caught by the leash, leaving him open to Reeve’s touch. He ran his fingers over the skin of of the boy’s abs, tracing the definition of the muscle as he began to rock into the other man. It started with slow, shallow thrusts, the rhythm building slowly, and 11-12 drew his knees up alongside Reeve’s body, his heels digging into the mattress and his hips canting up as he moved against the older man in return.
They pushed together, deep and steady and faster until Reeve felt his arms give under his weight. He lowered himself to 11-12, letting the drag of their bodies together build as he rocked his hips against his lover’s length. He shifted, pushing deeper until he hit a spot inside 11-12 that made the younger man scream. With every thrust, he watched 11-12 twist, tangling in the leash that held him until finally he came, his body tensing wildly under Reeve’s. The sudden pressure around his length was too much, and he held on another thrust, two, before he followed 11-12 over the edge, their bodies falling together to the bed as they struggled for breath.
It was a long few minutes before Reeve could shift, reaching to untangle the leash from where he’d hastily looped it around his lover’s arms. He slid his hands along the lines of his lover’s shoulders, his fingertips pressing hard into the skin to massage back in the flow of blood. He felt 11-12 relax below him in a post orgasmic haze, his body loose and pliant as Reeve worked him.
Next at hand was the collar, which he deftly unbuckled and pulled free of his lover’s body. There was a faint redness beneath it, where it had rubbed the skin as 11-12 twisted and writhed against the pillows, and Reeve kissed the skin until the mark had faded away from his skin. “Next time, to catch my attention, you could try a text message or perhaps a voicemail,” he teased, settling with his lover in his arms. 11-12 settled against him, a warm, solid weight, and drew the blankets to create a nest for them to rest in.
“Why?” he asked with sleepy confusion. “Harumi was right, it worked fine.”
Reeve gave a hoarse laugh and tucked his nose to the crook of his lover’s shoulder, leaving a kiss against the skin there. His fingers carded through the boy’s hair, dislodging the ears, and traveled down to slide the elastic free of his hips, letting the tail get lost in the mess of sheets and blankets. “If this was her introductory idea, I hate to see what she comes up with next time,” he murmured, although he couldn’t really argue the point. She had proven very effective.
11-12 gave a sleepy, contented hum and pushed to his chest. “Do you have to leave in the morning?” he asked, and Reeve felt the pang of the guilt returning. He pushed himself closer to the boy and kissed his nose. Only three days until the solar reactors launched, and then he would make it up to his lover.
“I do. But I’m yours until then,” he promised, earning another sleepy agreement from his lover. “After a nap,” he amended, because he didn’t think he could keep his lover awake even if he wanted to.
11-12 answered with the soft sound of his breathing evening out into sleep, and Reeve watched him for a long moment. His lover looked relaxed this way, calmer, the way Reeve wanted him to feel all the time. He wouldn’t screw it up again, he told himself fiercely, and pressed a kiss to the boy’s smooth forehead before closing his own eyes. This time, he’d get it right.