#also wow as i was typing this i realised this is less perverted than i thought because i am 22 years old. in my head i was like

[girlivealwaysbean]

creepy ass desiblrs stop following me challenge

[shooter-nobunagun]

Love me tonight 4

//Mature content; nsfw

“A, Adam...” Sio couldn’t help it; tears welled up as she scrunched her face, doing her best to not break down yet again but Adam only patted her hand and handed her a tissue, which she gratefully accepted. “S-Sorry...I-I didn’t mean to get all emotional again...”

“It’s alright; I think it’s been quite an emotional day for both of us,” he stroked her arms lightly. “Seriously though; if you’re not in the mood for any romantic shenanigans, then we should just stop and get some rest. There’ll be other opportunities, later on.”

Would they? ‘Who’s to say we’re even going to have time for a nice date after this? Just because we found Asao-san doesn’t mean our enemies are going to take a break...’ And more morbidly, there was also the lingering fear that something could happen to either of them before that chance came; it wasn’t about dying a virgin or something trite like that, but the events of late had taught her to relish the present, instead of always trying to control the future.

“Sio...?” Adam blinked in surprise as the girl started toying with the straps of her nightgown, as if she were thinking of taking it off. “You’re, uh...”

“...Maybe I’m being the selfish one here, but I...don’t see why we can’t continue. Er, to do, it. I mean why not? Uh...that’s not to say, if you don’t want to right now...”

Adam bit his lips, shaking his head in mild amusement. “No, you’re not selfish at all...if anything, I want to say I’m the selfish one, for hoping you’d want to continue. Nobody’s stopping us from doing what we want.”

A nod. “Right. So, uh. How...do we do this.”

The two stared at the sheets as an awkward silence descended the room. Neither had much ideas on how to begin; sex ed class (and in Adam’s case, smut) had given them some basic understanding and theory, but when it really came down to it Adam found himself struggling on how to take the lead, or if he even should.

“I...well, to be perfectly honest I’ve never done this before,” he gave an embarrassed laugh, but it seemed to break the ice as Sio let out a small giggle herself. “So, we should just...do what we feel like...and go from there. After all, I’ve come to realise, neither of us are much good at sticking to plans.”

“Mmn...it sounds silly, b, but I’m...actually kind of glad this is your first time, too...n, not that it would make a difference but...I feel if we both learn together...that makes me less nervous...” Secretly though, she was glad they would be each others’ firsts; Sio liked to think she was fairly open-minded, and truthfully, even if Adam did have a girlfriend in the past it wouldn’t have mattered—but somehow the thought of him being with someone other than her filled her with a gnawing discontent.

“Then let’s continue where we left off.” Just before their lips met again though, Sio felt herself being pushed back, this time by Adam. “Wait, sorry...I’m so sorry, but it just occurred to me we should probably use...” his face turned red with embarrassment, “...a condom. Or some other type of protection...last thing we need is another incident...” He gave her a sheepish glance. “I suppose it’s a bit much to ask if you have any...”

Ah. A rubber. Sio’s lips split into a nervous grin. “Er, um, n, no...I thought, you’d might have some...s, since, you’re a guy and all...n-not that I mean anything by that it’s just I thought this stuff is pretty standard for guys to keep around—agh!” She grasped her hair in frustration. Why did she always say things without thinking it through? “N, Not that I’m insinuating you think about sex all the time or anything like that—”

She heard Adam trying not to chuckle at her reactions, which only made the sniper turn even redder. Of all the things she’d read about when it came to ‘the first time’, somehow none of them ever mentioned how awkward it could be. ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that real life is never like what I imagined...’

“Well, I guess if we don’t have a condom, it’s not the end of the world; there are other methods we can use, like a morning-after pill,” Adam mused quietly, “though if we do go that route I’d better make a note so we don’t forget tomorrow morning—”

“—W-Wait, I just remembered actually...now that you mention it, I am on birth control,” the sniper mumbled shyly, face blushing a dark pink. Adam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. “It, it’s not what you think it’s for—after I joined DOGOO, the doctor recommended I be on it to help regulate my...y’know, ‘time of the month’ so it wouldn’t get in the way when I’m fighting...and it also helps decrease all the crappy stuff that comes with it...” Sio buried her face in the pillow; somehow, frankly discussing her PMS symptoms was more embarrassing than figuring out contraceptives.

A hand gently patted her on the shoulder and her eyes peeked up to see Adam quirking a grin. “Ah, that’s fortunate for us then; if you’re already taking it regularly, we won’t even have to worry about anything tomorrow.” Slowly he lifted the sniper up from the covers, Sio shivering as his fingertips brushed against her shoulders; all of a sudden her skin was much more sensitive, goosebumps erupting even though she wasn’t cold at all.

“You know...I’m glad we met; that day in Taiwan, no matter what I said back then...I think, I was already captivated from you by the start,” he gave her a hapless grin. “Only I was too much of a stubborn bastard to admit it.”

“Well, and we were kind of in a desperate situation...but even then, even though you were all scary with that giant knife, I couldn’t help but think, ‘wow, that’s pretty cool...’”

Adam threw back his head and laughed. “Cool? I’ll take it as a compliment, I guess.” Slowly he palmed her face, fingers running through those snow-white locks of hers. “I can only hope I’ll continue to be ‘cool’ for you, Sio Ogura.”

And without another word he kissed her, deeply this time. Sio felt herself tilting backwards, allowing him a better angle as their lips parted, and to her surprise she found herself welcoming his tongue against her own, even though she despised Newton’s greetings.

‘It really is different when you do it with someone you love...’ Sighing, her fingers tangled into his silvery locks, relishing how soft and fine they were. For someone who carried himself in such a rough manner, Sio was pleasantly surprised to discover that Adam took decent care of himself, if only so she could selfishly appreciate how good it felt to touch him. Not just his hair, but even his skin—which, pale as it was, felt unexpectedly smooth and warm beneath her fingertips. As their lips and tongues continued to tangle with each other, Sio became bolder; hands now grasping his shoulders, then his arms, marveling at the steel cords of his muscles.

It was strange to be concentrating so intently on his physical features, but she wouldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her body. The thrill of touching him at last, feeling him so intimately...they weren’t doing anything major yet, but already the sniper felt her body flushing with a heady sort of pleasure, her mind descending into a haze that caused her to think less, instead going with whatever felt right. Adam’s hands were wandering all over her torso as well, as she started to lift the edge of his shirt up--to see if the rest of his body really was as warm as she imagined.

“Whoa there, you’re more eager than I thought,” a husky whisper, Adam grinning suggestively as Sio blushed. “Not that I mind...not at all...I’ve always liked this side of you.” He leaned back slightly and took off the t-shirt, and she couldn’t help but gasp a little at the sight. Of course she’d seen him shirtless before; that one time she accidentally walked in on him changing (and subsequent peeks before/after battles), but this time he was allowing her to look, letting her gaze wander shamelessly. Pale, alabaster-white skin that she was sure would be warm to the touch, though here and there were signs of scarring—especially the jagged gash on his left side, a mark of their first encounter in Taiwan. Her eyes slid to his pecs and she couldn’t help but almost hide her face with her hands. ‘Whoa, men have nipples too...I-I mean, I know that, but still...’ They were a slight pale-pink, the tips starting to form into buds from the sudden chill. Sio gulped as the very air seemed to be crackling with unspoken tension and all of a sudden something inside her pulsed to life.

Damn, he’s hot. Sio felt her entire body heat up and her heart beat faster. Even before she admitted to herself she liked Adam as a person, she couldn’t deny her physical attraction. With broad shoulders, a well-defined jawline and (she knew from experience) strong arms that were perfect for holding, it was a wonder nobody else got him first. He was tall and well-built, with muscles that seemed etched into place—her eyes widened ever so slightly as her gaze settled on that toned six-pack, Adam smirking a bit at her gaping reaction.

“Like what you see?”

Without thinking Sio nodded, slack-jawed until she realized she was drooling. “Yea—h-huh? U-Uh, I-I, I mean...” She blushed heavily, wiping her mouth and Adam chuckled.

“Don’t be shy, squirt. I recall you certainly weren’t that time you just walked straight in and stared.”

“Th-th, that was an accident! I-I’m not that shameless,” she mumbled, “or a pervert...”

“Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind if you were,” he moved closer and Sio blushed even harder, “I love all of you, Sio Ogura. Even the pervert side.”

She whined in protest, which only made Adam smile wider. Those burgeoning feelings had been scary at first; the sniper confused as to how someone who constantly argued with her could also make her so hot and bothered at the same time, but eventually she’d come to enjoy the sensations, albeit secretly.

Now though, there was no need to hide those feelings any longer.

“C, Can I...touch you?”

Emeralds blinked at her slowly, Adam a bit startled at her forward request. But it was that sincerity that made him love her more.

“...Sure, Sio.” To encourage her, he took her slim hand and placed it against his chest, her maroons wider than saucers as those fingertips brushed the skin, as if not believing this was happening. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I, I’m...not afraid,” she murmured, almost in a trance as she traced his skin along every crease and muscle, forming invisible patterns. Warm, so warm... Slowly she pressed a palm against his chest, feeling the steady thumping of his heartbeat. “Whoa...”

Adam didn’t say word; instead he simply let the sniper touch her fill, watching her quietly as her face lit up with wonder. It was amazing, really, to see her fascination at merely exploring his body; to touch and see for herself what he was like underneath everything, literally. Her fingers were hesitant at first, tracing with feather-light touches that almost made him laugh, but as her curiosity continued they were more confidant: smooth strokes against ridges of muscle, trails of heat along his collarbone, and when her nail just lightly grazed his nipple he let out quiet grunt, Sio looking at him in surprise.

“Oh! I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“No, no…I’m fine. It’s not painful…it feels, quite nice, actually.” What Adam really wanted to say was that her touches were turning him on, but he didn’t want to scare her off or seem crass. Still, it was getting harder to hold his breath steady; certainly she could feel the increase in his pulse as both hands now wandered all over, Adam quietly gritting his teeth to suppress a moan.

“Nng...” As her hands ran over a second time however, Adam couldn’t stop his voice from coming out. “Ah…”

The sniper stopped, startled at the noise he was making, but then she noticed Adam’s expression. It was one she’d never seen before; with heavily lidded eyes that were almost closed, his emeralds a deep green with a healthy blush spreading across both cheeks. If she didn’t know any better, it was almost as though he were…embarrassed?

“U-Uh, Adam…are you okay?”

He nodded, though Sio noticed his breathing was shaky; as if he were trying to restrain himself. “Y-Yeh, don’t…I’m fine, squirt. Just…your hands, they feel…quite good…” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “...Mind if I...return the favor?”

“Eh…eh? A-Ah, I-I, uh…uh huh…” Sio turned ten shades of red in the span of a few seconds, the butterflies in her stomach now coming back with a vengeance. Touch…me? For some reason the concept seemed entirely foreign to her, even though she was doing the exact same thing to him. The idea that he really wanted to feel her skin, to see her true self…a bit awed at the realization, the sniper nodded silently, slowly lifting up her nightgown and, before her courage faded she flung it off, suddenly incredibly nervous as her arms hugged her modest chest, now sitting in nothing but her underwear. “U-Uh, um…I, is this…okay?”

So cute.

The way she was avoiding his gaze but still trying to look at him, cheeks painted a rosy flush as her arms crossed her petite chest. It wasn’t a secret the sniper had one of the flattest busts out of everyone at DOGOO; but right now, to him, she was perfect. He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until he let it out; Adam wanted to get her to open her arms but was afraid of forcing her too soon. Instead, he settled for gently brushing down her shoulders, fingering strands of her locks that were now as white as his own.

She’s so small—

His hands are so large—

Not sure what to do, Sio simply sat there as Adam smoothed his fingertips across her skin—again, the contrast between them seemed to stick in her mind: how much larger his hands were yet they felt incredibly warm; the gentleness with which he touched her, even though she knew he could decapitate an Object in a blink of an eye. ‘Like light and dark, or two sides of the same coin’, he told her once shortly after Nightingale was revealed. Before she knew it her own hand took his, and without any hesitation placed it against her breast.

“Uhm…” Adam was at a loss for words; no matter the situation, the sniper never failed to surprise him. Not only did she bare herself but she was the one encouraging him now, his hand enclosed around the soft, silken mound of her petite breast. “You’re amazingly soft…” A calloused finger ran over the raised pink nipple, marveling at how it reacted to his touch. Especially the way her breast fit so perfectly into his palm, with just a bud of pink at the end that stiffened the more he touched it…swallowing nervously, Adam shifted his legs slightly, hoping Sio wouldn’t notice the bulge that was starting to form between them.

“Is…are they, okay? I-I’m…sorry they’re so small…” A slight stutter peppered her voice as the sniper turned her head, eyes averted as she stared into her lap. ‘What if he prefers someone like Newton’s, instead of mine…’

“…I beg your pardon?” The mood took a backseat as Adam stared at the sniper in disbelief. “What in the world are you apologizing for Sio? There’s nothing wrong with you.” His hand traced from her nipple to the scar that now sat across the otherwise flawless skin, his brows furrowing slightly at the sight. It was healed up now, but the memory of that day was still fresh in his mind. 

“They are definitely not too small…I think, honestly, they suit you quite well. They’re cute. You’re cute.”

Sio squeaked, face a bright red as Adam quirked an eyebrow, though secretly she was pleased he found her attractive. She squeaked again as he started fondling the peak, surprised at how warm it made her feel. 

“Th, thanks...that makes me happy, you know? I’ve always thought, I’m just a below-average girl...I certainly don’t have any assets worth mentioning, so...to hear that, you think I’m c, cute...I’m glad,” she whispered shyly, tucking a strand of white locks behind her ear. “I, I never thought I’d be able to...well, be with someone as good-looking as you...”

There was a nervous chuckle from the man, who was now looking away with a blush. “Funny you say that...I know for a fact some people think my eyes are too downturned, or that I look like the Ripper himself when I scowl.”

“Ah...” Come to think of it, she did hear Galileo offhandedly refer to Adam as “Mr. Droopy Eyes” one time, but she didn’t even notice it. “Well, for what it’s worth...I’ve never noticed it. W-Well, except that maybe you are kind of...intense...when you’re angry. But, your eyes,” Adam stilled as she reached up and cupped his face, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that shade of green before. So, vibrant...”

Her breath was warm, the air sweetly scented with something distinct. Before he could even respond she leaned forward and closed the gap, kissing him deeply. Time seemed to stop and flow all at once as he automatically welcomed her into his arms, holding her tight as their lips moved in sync. Now that her nightgown was gone, the bare heat of her skin pressed against his chest; her nipples occasionally rubbed against his and he shuddered each time it happened. One hand wound behind her head to push her closer, deeper and as the girl fell into his embrace, his chest rumbled with pleasure.

So soft. Every part of her he could reach was warm and smooth against his hands, the girl tangling his strands between her fingers. Even though she felt so small and delicate in his grasp, Adam knew her inner strength was more than enough to carry both of them. Her arms wound tightly behind his neck, the girl somehow having shifted in the last few minutes so she was now sitting firmly in his lap.

“M-Mmnn...A-Adam...” Each time their breaths grew short, there was only a brief pause for air before they swept up into each other again. Their tongues tangled with each others’ as their hands swept all over. Her skin was delightfully warm and smooth, her curves giving in just slightly as he pulled her tight. A full, heady pleasure was working its way through all his senses—he felt himself growing stiffer as they kissed, and though he was embarrassed that Sio would soon sense his erection, a part of him wanted to show her—proof, of how intense she could make him feel.

‘There’s...something hard pushing against me...?’ For a second Sio thought she’d moved too far, but a quick glance told her she was still seated squarely between his legs. ‘Wait, between his legs...’ Her eyes grew wide as she finally came to the realization.

“A-Ano, Adam... You, your uh, um...” She blushed heavily, looking away nervously as she tried to but failed to finish the sentence. “Is that...um...” The sniper twirled her hair around one finger, looking at anything but his face or that...thing...

Instead of answering her however, he merely thrust upwards slowly, eliciting a gasp from the girl as she felt the full stiffness of his arousal. “Hnn...what do you think, love?” He thrust again for emphasis, the sniper squeaking a bit this time as the tip dug into that warm junction between her legs.

“I-I, u-um—ah—!” She squealed again as Adam started thrusting very slowly, up and down; the sensation was both foreign yet delightful, sending a rush of heat throughout her entire body. “Nnng...it’s...ah...” Too embarrassed to admit it felt good, Sio buried her face against the crook of his neck, instead. “Mmmn...”

Despite having no experience, she certainly caught on quick. Within a minute she started rocking her hips, trying to match his own clumsy rhythm. “S-Sio...” Adam didn’t finish his sentence before groaning deeply, pulling the girl deeper into his lap. “Feeling good?” His large hands firmly gripped her round bottom, relishing the soft, yielding flesh. 

“Ah...uh, uhn...” Sio could only nod shyly, but there was no mistaking the heat simmering in her belly. ‘I-It feels...good, rubbing against it like this...’ It was hot and stiff, and even through her underwear she could feel it brush against her most sensitive spot, causing her insides to tighten in a most pleasing manner. His hands felt good, too; one arm wound around her waist to support her, while the other brushed soothing patterns against her breasts. The heat from his body penetrated through to her very core, yet she couldn’t seem to get enough. Their tongues continued tangling as their bodies started moving in sync, Sio tasting him all around as he wrestled against her lips. The faster she pushed her hips, the better it felt—and it seemed to be the same for Adam, given the moans that were quietly vibrating against her lips.

“Sio...can I...” He pulled away, gasping for air as the girl did the same. “Your knickers...” A single finger pushed down the waistband and she knew what he was asking.

“...Only if I can do the same, Adam,” came her quiet response, Adam nodding in agreement. In one smooth gesture, her slender fingers slipped underneath the elastic and firmly gripped his shaft, Adam letting out a slight cry from the sensations.

“Guh—!” His hips instantly jerked upwards on instinct, before he forced himself to remain calm. “N, Not so hard...” No more words came out as the sniper stroked him inside his boxers, gently exploring his entire length and thumbing the sensitive, swollen head that was already leaking precum. “Ooohh...” Her hand was small, but it gripped him so perfectly as she deepened the strokes, Adam gritting his teeth as his erection throbbed with pleasure. A tight tripwire was being wound inside him, moreso after the sniper started gently teasing his nipples again with her free hand.

‘Am I doing okay? I must be...’ Her cheeks flushed with an intoxicating pleasure, Sio now aroused by Adam’s reactions. As Jack the Ripper, he could mow down wave after wave of EIOs without breaking a sweat. She’d seen him continue fighting even when he was covered with blood, and now he was being undone by nothing more than her slender hands and delicate touches. Something slippery leaked out of the tip and she stopped briefly, rubbing the clear fluid between her fingers.

“U-Um, Adam...is this, normal?” Was it sperm? ‘But I thought that was white and sticky, not clear...’

“Nnng—huh? Oh, that’s,” Adam heaved a deep breath, muscles still trembling from her ministrations, “it’s...precum. Not sperm, if that’s what you’re wondering...”

“O-Oh, okay...sh, should I, keep going then?” Even as she said this the sniper continued rubbing the tip, taking advantage of the precum’s natural lubrication to slide his foreskin up and down, then over the bulbous tip that was practically throbbing in time with his pulse. The muscles in his thigh twitched from the sensations, the one finger inside her waistband now withdrawn as he grew lost in the pleasure she was giving him.

“U-Uh...I, I...” Adam wasn’t going to last much longer; the sheer amount of pre-ejaculate leaking out was a sure sign, nevermind the tight ball of heat that was about to burst from his groin. His cock gave another twitch as her fingers gently rubbed the edge of his foreskin, digging around the sensitive tip curiously. “Hnng—s, stop Sio, that’s enough for now...”

“Oh! Sorry...” She sat back as Adam breathed hard, his erection creating an obvious tent within his boxers. Still rubbing the remains of his precum between her fingers, Sio wondered if it was similar to the dampness now seeping between her own legs; she had her panties on, but just by crossing her thighs she felt the moist fluids accumulating down there. “Do you want to take a break?”

Adam furrowed his brows. On one hand, he was very close; but on the other, it seemed a bit pitiful to come first. In all his dreams and fantasies, their first climaxes would be together, right at the same time—though reality was making it very clear that would not be the case. 

“Not particularly; it’s just...I’m quite close to, finishing...”

She did the head tilt thing again, a puzzled expression on her face. “Finishing...? Finish what?” How did you even know you were, well, done?

Adam almost let out an exasperated sigh, but held back just in time. This girl, sometimes... “...Climax, Sio. Or y’know, an...” he took a deep breath, “orgasm.” He sincerely hoped Sio knew what that was; otherwise things were going to get real awkward, real fast.

Her eyes grew wide as saucers, which was all the answer Adam needed. “O-Oh...r, right, of course...” She let out a nervous laugh. “B, But um, isn’t that the whole point? What’s wrong with...c, climaxing? I mean, it feels good, right?”

He nodded. “Yeh, it is...but for most guys, once we...finish, we have a bit of a ‘cooldown’ period, so to speak. So if I come now...I won’t be able to do it again for a bit.” The sniper nodded slowly, as she digested this information. “And...call it selfish, but I was hoping we’d be able to...experience it together.” 

His face was as pink as she’d ever seen, his brows completely raised instead of being furrowed into his signature scowl. It made him look much younger for a change. And cuter. He was so adorable when he showed his sincerity, the vulnerability that made up the human side. Sio couldn’t help but giggle slightly, which only caused Adam to blush harder. 

“O-Oy, what’re you laughing at...I’m being serious here...”

“N-No, I’m not—sorry, it’s just...you’re soo cute, Adam...” The sniper tried her best to stop smiling so broadly. “Th, that’s so...that’s so sweet of you...um...” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to regain a more serious expression. “Honestly, I don’t mind; just being together like this...is more than enough. Like you said, things never really go according to plan; so why stress about it?” She scooted closer, gingerly poking the tip through his boxers and Adam hissed through his teeth.

“Besides, this’ll feel good for you, right? If you need a break, so what.” As she said all this, her hand dipped back inside and gripped him firmly. It was hard and throbbing against her palm, but also soft and extremely hot. The organ twitched as if it were alive, Sio’s eyes growing hooded as she drank in the sight of Adam reacting as she slowly sped up her strokes. A strange ache was growing between her legs, but Sio ignored it as she slowly eased herself into his lap, her hands continuing to move all the while as small gasps and moans started emitting from the man. Even though she wasn’t the one receiving pleasure, just watching his reactions—and knowing she was giving it to him—gave her goosebumps and sent shivers throughout her body. ‘Whoa...I can’t believe something so simple can make him feel so good...and his expressions...’

Adam’s breath was coming in shorter and shorter pants; at times it seemed like he stopped breathing entirely, before letting out a cross between a whine and a sigh. “H-Hnnng...! Nngg, S-Sio...” So his fantasy of them coming together was a wash, but at this point Adam couldn’t care about anything other than how good it felt—how soft and dexterous her hands were, the way she carefully paid attention to certain areas that felt especially pleasurable... The sniper’s solid weight on his legs was a welcome warmth, Adam barely able to keep his eyes open at this point as she shyly leaned forward, and gave just the tiniest flick of her tongue against his nipple. “Gah! Y, You...”

“Does it feel good?” Adam could only nod, watching with hazy emeralds as the sniper tucked a long strand of pale hair behind her ear. “I’m glad...” Her fingers continued along his length, smooth and steady as his groin started tightening and a familiar tingle forming in the pit of his stomach.

“O-Oh...god...!” The first waves were coming, faint for now but he knew the big one would break soon. His boxers and Sio’s hand were wet with precum, letting the sniper stroke and pull his foreskin easily, especially over the sensitive tip—he groaned softly as another throb of pleasure pulsed through him, but Adam managed to hold back. “Mnnn...uhhn, uuh...” His muscles were pulled tight and twitching, Adam feeling the contractions building around his groin. He tried to tell her it was close, that within the next couple seconds he was going to cum but the words remained stuck in his throat. “I-I—nnng...!”

He stiffened and lurched forward, Sio too startled to even do anything other than watch as Adam quivered intensely and his hips jerked upwards in rough, uneven motions; a hot, sticky liquid spilled all over her fingers inside his boxers, and even without looking she instinctively knew he’d ‘come’, and it was his seed she was feeling. Adam was panting with long, deep gasps, his heated breath fanning her neck as he rested slightly against her petite frame. The sniper felt incredibly flushed herself, still unsure of whether she could remove her hand, and so she settled for gently patting him on the back, as the other slowly stroked him just a bit more.

“Nng—! A-Alright, that’s enough...” Adam winced as he very slowly unwound her delicate fingers from his softening penis, which was currently incredibly sensitive. “Fuck, that was, that...” He heaved another sigh as Sio combed out his hair, the relaxing afterglow phase overtaking his senses as his vision blurred slightly and his hearing grew muffled. 

“Okay, you definitely need a break,” Sio remarked drily, especially as the man tilted back against the headboard in a dazed manner. “Shh, just rest for now, Adam. We have all the time in the world.”

Her pets were soothing to his tired body, Adam nodding vaguely as he relaxed against the pillows. That’s right, just because he came first didn’t mean he couldn’t satisfy her. After all, there was more than one way to show his affections towards her... Eyes opening, he sat up with a bit of a start, Sio jumping at his sudden motion. “Oy love, c’mere,” he motioned with his hand and she crawled towards him, before he pulled her into a warm hug. “That was amazing; now, I’d like to return that favor...”

“Ah...Adam? You sure you don’t need to rest a bit more?” The girl eyed him with an uncertain look as they swapped positions, the sniper now reclining amongst the sheets. "You just said guys have a cooldown period...”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to just sit around doing nothing. I haven’t had my turn yet to make you feel good,” he smirked and his point teeth showed slightly, “or did you think there was only one way to do this?”

Sio blushed, uncertain what he meant but she definitely wanted to find out. “I...w, well then, I’ll leave it to you, Adam. I’m in your hands now...so, please take care of me.”

He knew the sniper meant it in the most innocent and sincere of manners, but, as Adam realized, she also had a penchant for saying unintentional double entendres. Despite coming a few minutes ago, he could feel his pulse speeding up, that familiar rush of heat starting to flood his body. He licked his lips as he silently vowed to definitely take good care of Sio; with any luck, by the time she was finished he’d be ready again.

“Of course...Sio. Your wish is my command.”

[dat-fandom-losertown]

Cat Out of the Bag

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Chapter 1: Prologue & The Encounter

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Neko!Hank Anderson x Artist/Author!Connor

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Swearing (assume this’ll be in all future chapters as well lol), A tad of Violence, Panic attack similar to my own, Blood/Injury Mention

Word Count: 9,453 (I have no clue how to write short chapters/fics lol)

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Synopsis:

   “I ain’t some starvin’, twink cat that you can just bring home and teach how to trust and love or whatever the fuck else books try to say. Hell, I’m not even a Persian or Maine Coon cat with those bushy, pale tails like people always love to give us bears. I’m just an old, fat calico.”

   “I personally don’t agree with the stereotypes as well. But as I offered before, you’re always welcome to leave. The front door is right there, I’m not keeping you trapped here... If you wanted to stay, though, I can make you breakfast? You can watch me make your breakfast, or you can make it yourself if you want.”

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~> Next

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                   Growing up, Connor was always stuck in the worlds he fabricated in his mind, and he wasn’t ashamed of it like his family tried to tell him to be. Even when he would introduce himself to people since middle school, he would always say his name then state that he had an uncontrollably active imagination, and if they ever are speaking to him and he doesn’t appear to be actively listening that they should try to not be offended. He just simply found inspiration and was committing whatever it was to memory to come back to later, or has laid out a simple plot to follow along later. He really meant no harm or disrespect to them.

    Let’s just say that, among the school’s nerds, jocks, or other cliques, “Crazy Connor” did not fit into any social group, and regularly gained more bullies than friends. He never minded too much, though. He always lived vicariously through his character’s lives which he created, and they always had plenty of friends and allies they could turn to when in trouble. That’s all he needed, or at least, that’s what he always convinced himself so he wouldn’t become swallowed by loneliness.

    By his first year in high school, he wrote an entire book, and by the end of his first year, he wrote another, longer one. For his second year in high school, he was “gently persuaded” into taking an art class for whatever reason the school offered (he wasn’t listening on purpose that time), and he discovered he had a natural gift in the subject. With the encouragement of his art teacher and his one and only friend, Markus, he started posting his artworks on a blog he created just for this purpose, that way he didn’t flood his normal social medias with the unusual content. Soon after, he bought himself the equipment to start doing digital art and quickly switched to that for any piece that wasn’t a graded assignment.

    By the end of Connor’s second year, an online social media influencer found the one fanart of them he made– and his blog and all of his other works by extension– by pure chance. After some talking and interactions, they asked if they could commission him to do a small line of t-shirt merch designs. Of course, Connor said yes. They loved it, and so did the customers and fans who looked at and bought the t-shirts. He still knows to this day that he is more than extremely lucky to have had this chance.

    After designing the merch, his art blog started gaining more attention, and by christmas break of his third year in high school, he was making more money each month than any student he knew with a job. He got donations from very generous people just for sharing his art and little comic scenes, and he regularly got commissions from people, and was even asked to create pin and more t-shirt designs for that same online influencer. Connor never gave up writing, however, he simply never posted it anywhere public. Although, as soon as he turned 18 early in his Senior year, he immediately self-published the first book he wrote after doing some heavy editing (it was an actual cringefest trying to read through it), and made it well known on his blog that more were coming in the somewhat-near future.

    It didn’t do too well, to say the least. A world where nekojins and inujins don’t exist, especially for the sake of not making certain things in the plot happen conveniently and provide crude or perverted humor? It doesn’t fly for most people. He didn’t give up, though, of course not. He expected this book to not do well at all, so he wasn’t put off in the slightest. He self-published his next book during his final new year’s break of high school, which ended up doing much better than his first, considering it was a fantasy adventure genre and had a nekojin as one of the main characters. Looking back on it now, this is probably where his career in writing first started.

    Up until this point, Connor was convinced he’d be stuck at a nine-to-five office job for his entire life, since he couldn’t see himself doing what he loved due to the lack of publisher and author connections and, as much as he loves art, that’s not where his true passion lies. He knew that he’d eventually get burnt out if it were his job and only source of income. Although, he also couldn’t imagine doing something he actively disliked because he would rather rip his hair out than be an accountant or anything of the sort like what his family wanted. However, this second book made him realise that it could be possible to do what he wanted full time.

    As Connor very soon found out, nekojins and inujins weren’t popularly a main character in books or any media for that matter, and if they were, the book almost always had a forbidden love type of plot or the partial-human was a slave of some sort of one of the other main characters. The fact that Connor, a high schooler, wrote a book with a kick-ass nekojin who gives no fucks and takes no shits as a main character with a pure human lover/sidekick was decidedly open minded and extremely controversial.

    At one point, an encounter with a reporter brought up the question of how he found the courage to make such a bold statement. Connor felt somewhat guilty when he admitted that this story idea had just been in his head for so long and it just had a bad-ass nekojin as the main character. He put no thought into what people would think about it or what kind of statement it could possibly give. It’s just what the story always was, so he made it how it is. Simple as that.

    And apparently that was an open minded answer. The fact that he hadn’t even thought about what the public might think and didn’t care whatsoever that the main character was a nekojin proved that in his head was a world that easily existed where partial humans and pure humans lived in perfect equality. The writers of those articles weren’t exactly wrong, but Connor still didn’t like how every single one of his artworks and writing pieces were soon heavily criticized and people looked far more into them than even Connor himself thought was possible. It was almost intriguing how people could pull such in-depth ideas and conspiracies from works that were made simply because he thought “Oh, this kind of pose looks cool for this character” and “Wow, these colors look cool with it so we’ll smash them together like this” and “Ta Da! I did it! I made a thing! Look guys!”.

    By the time he graduated, he was in the midst of self-publishing a third book that Connor carefully picked because the story line didn’t have anything blatantly controversial in it. His fourth or fifth ones didn’t have anything especially attention-grabbing in them either. Although, that’s just how he planned them in his head. Yes, he did have other titles deemed more risky and controversial, but he didn’t release them only because he didn’t want that kind of attention on him again yet. Eventually, all the controversy surrounding Connor had died down once people began realising that such a large statement from him was likely going to be a one time deal. All that was left behind from the ordeal was a sudden spike in interest and income from the people who found his work because of the fuss.

    Yes, he hated that partial human slavery still existed, and no, he never planned on getting one of his own and helping the economy of those types of businesses, but he couldn’t gather the bravery needed to make any grand statements on his blog and march along with the groups of people trying to make things equal. He had morals and human decency, but they apparently didn’t run deep enough to make him less terrified of the mass of negative attention he once faced, so he supported the protesters in spirit for doing what he can’t with minor guilt.

    He still feels that way even now at 32 years old. He’s lucky enough to no longer be a starving artist, and he moved out of Markus’ and Simon’s shared apartment to live on his own a couple years ago. He still mainly does digital pieces when creating art, but he took inspiration from Markus and his father and started using different types of traditional medias again. Although, somewhere down the line, art stopped being the larger source of his income, and started being extra cash he put into savings and funding for larger luxury items– such as trips across America for more experiences that he could use in his art and books.

    He no longer has to self-publish anymore, yet he still occasionally does under an alias when his agent, a good friend of his by the name Luther, wants him to change too many aspects of a book to make it more commercialized. He has told Connor in the past that he comes up with other manuscripts to pitch quickly compared to the other writers he works with, so he doesn’t worry too often about Connor self-publishing something he didn’t accept. He understands that, to Connor, these aren’t just books, these are tiny pieces of himself in written form. Though, Luther always goes into detail about what parts he doesn’t like and why because there are times where Connor decides that the world in his head would be made better with the changes Luther wanted.

    Connor is currently heading home after one of said moments. He just got done with a meeting to pitch his next potential book, and Luther had suggested that he change the time travel portion in it to make it a trilogy and expand on some character’s backstory and development. Connor, not understanding why he hadn’t written a series of any kind yet, since most of his books are rather long, quickly and happily agreed to go home and edit large chunks of it to make it work.

    He wonders if he can somehow convince Luther or the publishing company to hold off on publishing the books until all three are completed. Connor hates waiting months for sequels and much prefers having all of the books in a series so he can binge them, and he knows that he’s far from the only one who feels this way. They probably won’t stall until all 3 books are fully completed, though. He’ll just have to somehow work quicker than usual without getting burnt out, or pitch a different book from his list of ideas to work on in the meantime.

    Connor blinks out of his head to pause and take in the scenery around him. Connor’s lucky to live in a more suburban area. He’s always been an extremely light sleeper, so he could never get much rest when he lived in the city with his family. The nearest area like that is just far enough away that the only evidence of it being there are the skyscrapers in the distance and the fact there are precisely 14 stars on a clear night sky, and on the nights that aren’t clear, the clouds over the downtown area have an enchanting glow to them.

    In the area Connor lives in now, most of the roads are all one lane per direction, with the exception of the main roads with the stores and sloppy grids of traffic lights. This is where Connor is right now, walking along the strangely empty sidewalk. He lives in one of the apartment buildings in the area, and the rumble of cars and occasional shrieks of emergency vehicles are enough to make him want to move back to Markus’ quieter area, despite there still being five more months left on his two-year lease. Looking off to the side where his apartment building should be, Connor decides that he should start hunting for other apartments if he really wants to move somewhere else.

    Connor pulls out his phone to take a picture of the serene scene he’s just been greeted by. The setting sun casting the sky in a brilliantly beautiful gradient of rich orange and gold. He has to shove the small sense of guilt away for thinking something that air pollution has caused is gorgeous, because that’s exactly what it is. The small trees that are planted in the middle of the wide sidewalk on the other side of the road look like a black void is trying to rip and glitch its way into swallowing the sky whole, yet is always coming up short. The road he walks along is empty for now due to the traffic light glowing red behind him, which gives him a chance to get an unobscured picture.

    This is the perfect scene to paint back at home. Maybe it’s just the thing to finally get him out of his art block.

    Connor quickly snaps several pictures at varying levels of brightness and contrast before the light turns green. He quickly puts his phone away and continues on his way home. Honestly, Connor should have taken an Uber or something instead of walking, but he isn’t regretting it quite yet. He probably will in a few minutes, though, when the only light will be from the moon and the occasional street light. He supposes he can always call an Uber now, but he’s currently only a fifteen minute walk away from his apartment complex if he doesn’t take the shortcut through the trees, closer to ten minutes if he does.

    Besides, the air is nice and cool for once, if not a bit on the humid side– but that’s just what happens when you live along the east coast, you get non-stop humid air. On top of the air being nice, Connor really needs to get more of it from outside, rather than the stale air inside. The last time he left his apartment (besides hopping into his car for grocery, work, or mail related journeys) was probably a little under a year ago, maybe a little over. Sure, once in a while he’ll open his windows, but that isn’t the same as being outside, feeling the sun on his skin and slight breeze in his hair.

    Huh, that could make a cool land in his series. A place where no matter where a person stands within the small civilization, there is always wind to be felt. They could remain protected and unspotted with the use of a force field of sorts that spreads itself over the town. Maybe that could be because they are a true neutral civilization and don’t want any part in the war–

    A thud of something hitting metal immediately followed by a quiet groan of pain interrupts Connor’s wandering train of thought. He probably wouldn’t have even heard it if he hadn’t retained his habit of somehow being alert to his surroundings while zoned out from back when he was in school. He doesn’t even know where the painful sounds came from, but that doesn’t matter because he wouldn’t just jump in to other people’s problems. What if there isn’t anything happening at all and that was just someone who tripped and fell?

    So he checks the time (for evidence purposes, just in case) and keeps walking straight, hyper aware of every little movement and sound around him, yet never turning his head. That is, until he jumps at the abrupt sound of sharp laughter coming from behind the boutique that’s closed for the night.

    “The fucker’s weak and already passing out! Who would’ve guessed! Ha!” a nasally voice taunts. Connor freezes against both his will and better judgement.

    “Should we call some place to pick ‘im up? We could get some extra cash?” a woman asks.

    “Hell no!” a masculine voice shouts, “Who the hell do you think would want an old, fat neko like him, anyway. We’d be doing everyone a favor by just killing it.”

    That gets Connor moving silently into the narrow alley towards the voices. He may be socially awkward and loathe conflict, but he grew up training in different types of combat and self-defense. If someone’s life is in danger, he damn sure will fight, and as long as none of these people have a gun, he will win.

    “Uh, I didn’t fuckin’ sign up for murder.” the nasally voice says uneasily, “I just wanted to go out and have a good time.”

    “Ugh, it’s not like we’d get caught. And even if we did for some reason, we would get a slap on the wrist at most.”

    “Are you actually that fuckin’ stupid, Damien?” the woman snaps. “If we kill him, that will be seen as worse than killing an animal. Even I’m not stupid enough to think that we’d get away with something that in a place out in the open like this. Someone’s gonna have to take out trash, and evidence of us being here is everywhere.”

    Connor finally lets himself fall still, ceasing his silent shuffling towards the corner. He presses against the wall in hopes to lower the chances of being spotted, and promptly rests his back on something sticky. He jumps forward just slightly, but not enough to be seen.

    “What was that?” the first guy asks.

    But is apparently loud enough to be heard.

    Connor braces himself for a fight, tensing up and getting into position–

    “Dude, you’re being paranoid. Let’s just get the fuck out of here. I’m bored, anyway, and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.” The supposed ringleader persuades, his boots thumping on the concrete as he walks away. Connor lets himself relax, thankful that nothing more is going to happen for now.

    “Same. C’mon.” The woman starts following him if the sound of clacking heels is anything to go by.

    There’s a relieved sigh, then one last set of footsteps walking away. Luckily, based off of the sounds of scuffling and skateboards from around the corner, there’s another way to get in and out of that place besides the one Connor is hiding in. He stays completely still and silent for several minutes after they’re gone, just to make sure they won’t come back. When he finally feels that it’s safe enough to look at the time on his phone, only twelve minutes have passed since he last checked it.

    Taking a deep breath, he moves himself out of his hiding place. He spots the large nekojin laying against a dumpster in the alley and can immediately tell that the 911 emergency responders won’t do much, if anything, for him because there’s no collar around his neck and no obvious lethal wounds. The poor guy’s got blood in his hair, which is grey with age, and there’s a bit of blood on the ground and dumpster where he was presumably knocked down. His wrist is also zip tied to the back handle of the dumpster, so his arm is raised high above his head and Connor can see where the zip tie is digging into his skin. He watches as the man takes a small breath with a small sigh of relief.

    That seems to make something in Connor click, because he’s suddenly dropping to his knees to check for any less obvious injuries. First thing’s first, Connor removes the zip tie from the man’s wrist by jamming his fingernail between the latch and tail slowly undoing the loop. He carefully puts the man’s arm down by his side. Connor only knows so much about first aid and injuries from past, admittedly extensive research for his books and comic scenes, but he does remember how to spot the signs of various broken bones. He also knows that won’t be enough to make sure he’s actually okay.

    Therefore, he yanks his phone out of his pocket and texts his friend, Kara, who is some kind of doctor, hoping that she’ll be kind enough to come and look this guy over herself. It’s not like Connor wouldn’t pay her for her expertise, after all.

        Connor Child Today at 19:28 (7:28)

Hey, are you busy right now?

   Connor doesn’t even have time to repocket his phone before it vibrates in his hand. She mustn't be busy, if she responded so quickly.

        Best Mom Friend Today at 19:28 (7:28)

i’m free. what’s up

        Connor Child Today at 19:29 (7:29)

You know how you’re a doctor? Are you, like, a general doctor, or are you specialized in something? And is there a difference between pure and partial humans medically/biologically?

        Best Mom Friend Today at 19:30 (7:30)

We’ll call it a general one. and no there aren’t major differences besides the tail and ears and heightened senses and all that jazz.

weren’t you just with luther? what happened?

        Connor Child Today at 19:20 (7:30)

I was, but I found an injured Nekojin that was beat up by these three assholes while walking home. It doesn’t look life threatening, but I’m not a doctor and I also have no way of getting him to my place.

    When Kara doesn’t respond immediately, Connor carefully lifts up the large man’s shirt, carefully avoiding touching his white, tan, and black blotched tail that’s draped protectively across his chest before he passed out. He notes that there’s a lot of bruising, which could mean a few things, some worse than others. He’s taking even breaths instead of short, sporadic ones, though, which could be a good sign. After checking a few other things tenderly and carefully, Connor decides that it’s probably okay to carefully lay the stranger down so he can check his back.

    It’s immediately apparent that they jumped him from behind. The entire back of his shirt has blood all over it, and some blood on the wall and dumpster where he was leaned against them. After a solid twenty seconds of processing what he’s seeing and choosing what to do about this first, Connor finally forces himself to tenderly lift the back of his shirt up. He notices that none of the cuts should be deep enough to do any lasting damage beyond scars. He doesn’t even think blood loss should be a problem, since the blood wasn’t even visible for the most part until he was rolled over. That doesn’t account for any possible internal bleeding though, and for the fact that Connor still isn’t a doctor.

    At that thought, Kara finally messages back with perfect timing.

        Best Mom Friend Today at 19:34 (7:34)

first of all, where are you?

second of all, you shouldn’t bring strangers into your home.

third of all, you should take him to a hospital anyway.

    Connor cringes at his phone at the last suggestion, then begins typing.

        Connor Child Today at 19:35 (7:35)

We both know he won’t get proper care at a hospital, especially since he doesn’t appear to have a collar or a way of contacting someone who will pay off the debt for the stay. Also, I’ve already thought about every other option besides bringing him to a hospital and they all end with him getting abandoned and/or hurt again out here. I don’t wanna leave him like that.

   It’s then that Connor realizes that he likely has most of the things needed to take care of these types of injuries at home in his jumbo first aid kit. Markus bought it for him on his birthday as a jab at how clumsy he is, but it’s come in handy multiple times since then and none of his friends let it die.

        Connor Child Today at 19:36 (7:36)

Besides, I think I have everything needed to clean him up at my apartment, I’m just not sure about any internal injuries or how to move him.

    Oh god damn it, apparently Connor’s going to be one of the dumbasses who brings injured strangers back home. He can’t just leave him out here and he can’t trust anyone else in this area– state, even– to not abuse this guy as soon as Connor is out of sight, though. He gently feels around the stranger’s head, carefully avoiding his tan and black ears, for any obvious injuries as he works things out in his head.

    Maybe he can call Markus to come over to help keep watch just in case? No, he and Simon are out in New York on vacation until Monday, and today’s Thursday. He can’t ask Carl or Luther to come over, since Carl is old and wheelchair bound and, as well as Luther can act and despite his massive size, he does much worse with conflict than Connor does. He’d be on edge from being around a wild card for the night, then stressed for days after. Connor knows Kara would come help him out, but she doesn’t get enough sleep as it is, with the weird hospital hours and helping with taking care of Alice. She doesn’t need to be more involved in this than she already is, anyways.

    This is either going to end surprisingly well or very badly, and Connor has a feeling of which it’s going to be. That is decidedly not a good sign, but Connor elects to ignore it anyway.

    Connor finds a rather large knot on the right side of the man’s head where the majority of the blood in his hair is, which is probably the same injury that pretty much knocked him out in the first place. He doesn’t even know if there’s a way to check for concussions when the person is unconscious.

    His phone finally pings an alert for a new message.

        Best Mom Friend Today at 19:37 (7:37)

fine, you win. tell me where you are and i’ll bring you guys to your place. who’s staying with you, cause it isn’t going to be me or luther.

        Connor Child Today at 19:37 (7:37)

Thank you so much!! I’m at the boutique near my apartment complex! And I have a friend that I’m going to message!

You’re the best!!

    Connor rolls the stranger into what he hopes is a more comfortable position, then finds a place where he’ll be able to watch the parallel parking lanes in front of the boutique and the unconscious nekojin at the same time. His phone chimes again, and he doesn’t bother opening it for the simple three letter in the message notification.

        Best Mom Friend Today at 19:41 (7:41)

Omw

    With that taken care of, all there is left to do is wait for Kara. He moves and sits down in his spot, and just a bit over ten minutes later, she pulls up. Connor glances back at the old stranger, making sure he won’t die or something in his absence, then quickly steps out of the alley so Kara will see him. She does and parks her blue SUV in the spot closest to where Connor is waiting.

    “Kara! You’re a lifesaver, really!” he calls after Kara steps out of her car.

    “I know, I know,” She shuts the door behind her, “Where’s the guy?”

    “He’s back here. I didn’t want to move him too much.”

    She nods in approval and silently follows him to the old nekojin, then starts looking over his wounds. She decides that the cuts on his back aren’t as bad as they could be and the bleeding has already slowed down a bit. At her request, Connor retells everything he knows. After a few more minutes of checking, she states that the stranger no doubt has a concussion and will need plenty of rest and another check up once he’s awake. Thankfully, she doesn’t think his wrist is dislocated or fractured or anything, and his ribs seem fine. Together, they carefully lift the unconscious man into the back of the SUV, and Connor climbs in the back to sit with him.

    They reach Connor’s apartment complex in just over two minutes (he swears he isn’t staring at the clock in the car), then fight to awkwardly lift the man out of the car and up the flight of stairs to Connor’s apartment. Once inside, they lay him on the bed in the guest room. Kara makes a comment about the sheets not making it through unscathed, but Connor disregards her with an obvious lie about needing new sheets anyway.

    Kara then washes the man’s back and arms then carefully tends to his plentiful superficial wounds with Connor’s help, since there was apparently glass in some of his cuts. By the time they’re finished with that and the man has a light blanket draped over him, a couple of hours have gone by. Kara leaves once Connor promises (lies) that the person he texted about staying over will be on their way very soon and isn’t there now because they have a shift at the grocery store.

    Now that Connor is completely alone and is starting to feel the nerves from having a large, presumably strong stranger unconscious in his home, he doesn’t quite know what to do. Normally when things get stressful or unusual, he’d write a short story depicting a character going through something that would make them just as uncomfortable and stressed as he is and post it on his Patreon, but he doesn’t want the click-clacking of his keyboard to mask any noises that the man might make.

    After a bit of thinking and standing around, he decides to paint the sunset he took a picture of earlier.

    He goes down the short hallway that connects his room, laundry room, and bathroom to the rest of the apartment. He opens the closet on the right side of the room and grabs a canvas and various paints and brushes. Going back out to the area of life, as Connor calls it (since the kitchen, dining room, and living room are all one large area, with the living room sectioned off by couches and the kitchen by a counter island and tiles on the ground), he sets up his stuff on his small, square table. He makes sure he’s facing the doors to his and the guest rooms with his back to the front door and the sliding door to his balcony/patio thing.

    He pauses in his painting every 45 minutes to an hour so he can check on the nekojin. When the sun finally rises in the morning, Connor’s finished two sellable paintings and is starting a third. He has officially reached the level of exhaustion where he no longer feels tired as long as he ignores the pressure behind his eyes and the headache starting to form. Sometimes his insomnia-like-symptoms flare up until he gets to this point, so he isn’t worried.

    After checking on the man yet again, Connor decides to fix a breakfast sandwich using his near-expired bacon and a tube of premade biscuits. He makes enough eggs and bacon for only one person, not knowing when the nekojin will wake up and if he even eats eggs or meat.

    He’s in the middle of putting his food on a plate when there’s a slight and distant creak. If he were alone, Connor would have been able to convince himself that it was the building settling or something of the like, but he isn’t. He quickly turns around and is relieved to see nothing behind him. He hastily scoops the last bit of eggs onto his plate before cautiously walking through the living area towards the guest room. He pauses right at the door and listens for movement, just in case the man woke up and is trying to do something stupid and/or dangerous.

    Connor may be trained in various types of combat and self defense, but he’s not stupid enough to think that makes him invincible. Especially against someone who is as large as that man was, and that’s excluding the chances that this stranger has training in some kind of combat as well.

    After a couple of seconds of complete silence, Connor hesitantly opens the door just wide enough to slowly peek half of his head through. He immediately sees that the man is no longer in his bed. He’s barely able to open the door wider to step inside before a heavy weight barrels into him from the side. Next thing he knows, he’s pinned to the wall by a furious nekojin, with his ears pinned to his head and fangs sharp as needles. It’s already getting hard to breathe and Connor, as predicted, can’t move the arm that’s pushed against his throat. Trying to move his right arm and both legs is useless because the man also has them pinned enough to where he can’t make any effective attacks on him.

    He must have some kind of training in combat as well, or has learned from personal experience. Connor is completely screwed if this man decides he is too much of a threat or isn’t worth his time.

    “Cause any trouble and I make your life painful, ya hear?” the man snarls lowly, and if Connor wasn’t already used to being pinned against walls and threatened, he’d probably be panicking right now. Connor rapidly nods as calmly as he can (which isn’t nearly calm enough) while being in this situation. “Who the fuck are you?”

    “Connor” he rasps painfully, “I’m– no harm. Please–”

    The older man hisses, and it sounds nothing like when cats do it. When cats hiss, it almost sounds like an air leakage from a pipe; high pitched and more breathy than anything. This hiss, though, is not unlike what demons sound like in horror movies. It’s lower and almost growlish and absolutely terrifying enough to make up for the lack of a small, agile body.

    It shuts Connor up to say the absolute least.

    “Where the fuck did you bring me?”

    “My–” Connor coughs and gasps painfully, “apartment.” That must have been the wrong answer because the pressure on his throat increases. Since moving the arm is impossible, he starts patting it to try to signal the stranger that he really needs air.

    “I can fuckin’ see that, dumbass. I meant where the fuck is this place?”

    “Not– far, fr-from… alley…” Huh, so the darkness not only invades from the sides of your vision, but the focus of it also dims too. And nobody ever mentioned in the books he read about how much pressure is building in his head right now, like it’s going to explode soon. Aw great, now he’s starting to mildly dissociate. Just what he needs.

    The nekojin is trying to say something to him, but the only things he can make out clearly from the sudden white noise are “you”, “better”, and “punk”. Connor doesn’t want to agree to something preposterous, but he also doesn’t want to try to ask for clarification or anything like that and make the man angrier. He suddenly has a fleeting thought of dying here, and his mind just as suddenly latches onto it and won’t let go. God he’s so fucking stupid. He knew this was a horrible idea, and he still fucking did it. Why doesn’t he ever listen to anyone?

    Just as Connor tries to reach his left arm up to damage the man’s face somehow and force him to let go, he’s abruptly released.

    Connor barely avoids dropping to the ground and instead leans against the wall because his legs want to function more like jelly than anything remotely solid. He coughs and gasps but locks his knees so he’s less likely to fall over into a more defenseless position. He distantly recognizes that the nekojin is trying to talk to him again, but he’s too preoccupied with getting air into his lungs and not falling over to even try to decipher it. Thankfully, whatever he said apparently wasn’t super important because nothing happens when Connor doesn’t give any kind of response, and nothing continues to happen until he’s breathing normally and standing up on his own again.

    “You said I wasn’t far from the alley,” the nekojin spits out, “How close is it?”

    Connor blinks the tears from his eyes. “Five minute walk, maybe.” he answers quietly, throat hurting.

    “Where are your roommates?”

    “Don’t have any.”

    “You live completely alone?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

    Connor silently nods.

    “Why’d you bring me here? Think you could tame some fuckin’ stray to be your personal pet? ‘Cause you’re very wrong.” he ends in a growl. It sends shivers up Connor’s spine and he can feel the sweat on him beading and rolling down. If this comes to blows again, there’s no way Connor will be able to win, especially not like this.

    “No. You’re hurt.” he says more sure, finally lifting his head to meet the other’s eyes.

    “You honestly expect me to believe that you brought an old, stray nekojin home just because he was a little hurt?”

    Connor nods. “Didn’t know if you were bleeding out or not–”

    He shuts his mouth with a click and braces himself for another attack when he sees the stranger move. It’s barely a shift to the side, but it’s enough to send Connor back into highest alert. The guy must realise this because he shifts backward a step.

    “What do you get outta patchin’ me up?”

    “...technically nothing?”

    “No one does anything without any reward, so fuckin’ spill it.” he spits.

    “A clear conscious, maybe?” There’s no bite in his words, only the underlying fear of giving the wrong answer. When the older man doesn’t immediately shoot another question, Connor continues. “Look, I just don’t like it when people’re in pain. I wanted to help, so I did.”

    “People.” When Connor stares blankly in return, he continues. “I’m not people. Won’t ever be, thanks to the ears and tail.”

    “You should be people.” he breathes. “A lot of others agree with me, nowadays.”

    “Ah, so you’re one of those activists? You realise you guys are going to get killed before anything substantial changes right?”

    “I’m– uh, I’m not really an activist? I don’t like all the attention.” Connor forces himself to loosen up a little, more to prove that he isn’t a danger to the wild card in front of him and less because he actually wants to. “It makes me nervous.”

    “Yet you supposedly bring home a dangerous stranger from the streets into your own home just for the sake of patching up a few scratches.”

    Connor stands at full height once more, his voice sharp, “You also have severe bruising and a concussion. And the hospital wouldn’t have done much for you because it wasn’t immediately life threatening and you don’t have a collar.”

    “If it wasn’t fucking life threatening then you should have left me out there! To hell with your hero dilemma or whatever the fuck you have!” the man snaps, waving his arms in wide, angry gestures, “How the hell did you even know where to find me, if you really aren’t with the fuckers who did this to me?”

    “I was walking home from work and heard someone get hit, then voices threatening murder. I just stayed until they left in case I needed to jump in and stop them.” Connor says gravely.

    The man sighs. Connor can feel his exhaustion from that one breath alone, but holds his ground. He doesn’t know what is genuine and what is an act to get him to lower his defenses. He’s suddenly aware that he’s shaking.

    “And how the fuck did you get me here?” His tone is slightly less angry.

    “Called a friend with a car. She’s the one who patched you up ‘cause she’s a doctor.” Connor tries to slow his trembling, and, to his surprise, it’s kind of working.

    The older man eyes him, “And why the fuck did she help?”

    “She thought someone else was staying with me last night so I wasn’t alone with you.” Connor blurts before reassuring, “No one else is here, but she doesn’t know that. She has her own things to worry about. I don’t want her involved.” With that, he stops his breathing exercises, confident he won’t start panting or hyperventilating.

    “And you don’t have one?” he can almost hear the raised eyebrow accompanying the nekojin’s question.

    “Not really.” He doesn’t really want to talk about this, especially not to someone he doesn’t know.

    “Nothin’ to lose by taking in a stranger, huh? Self destructive much?”

    “Not– not exactly.”

    There’s a few moments of tense silence. Connor still refuses to move a single muscle from earlier and it’s starting to get strenuous now, but he won’t lower his guard until he knows this nekojin isn’t a threat anymore. 

    “...You’re not gonna try to name me or some shit?” the partial-human asks warily and, if Connor isn’t wrong, with a hint of timidity.

    That… was not at all what Connor was expecting out of the gruff man after what has been going down. He didn’t even know that people did that to partial humans. It sadly makes sense, though, considering history. Animals have always been renamed with little issue, and back in the day, people used to do just the same to partial humans too. Connor thought that kind of thing died decades ago, though. 

    “No? I didn’t even fully realize that was a thing people still did…”

    “And none of these drawers have clothes of my size in them?”

    “I– No! Check if you want but–”

    Connor falls silent when the other man suddenly turns to the single dresser in the room and opens the first drawer. Every drawer after that was opened and reshut with great haste. Finding it all empty, he moves on to the closet and goes through the small shelving unit in there. He once again finds nothing, and shuts the closet with an obvious breath of relief. He sharply turns back to Connor. The man must see something in Connor because he sighs and shuffles towards where he’s still sitting against the wall.

    “You really don’t want any ownership over me?” The man sounds less angry and more skeptical.

    “If you don’t believe me, then you can always leave. I don’t want to trap you. But you’re still hurt.” Only silence follows, so Connor tries again to make this man trust that he won’t slap a collar on him. “I’ve never been interested in getting a nekojin. I hate what you guys have to endure, and I’ve always pretty much seen everyone as equals. It actually got me a bit of unwanted attention when I was younger.” He adds after a split second of hesitation.

    The stranger huffs in what seems like a mocking manner. Connor can understand why.

    “You sure you’re not an activist? Going out and parading and getting arrested by plan?”

    Connor fights the urge to squirm in shame and apprehension and shakes his head. “I’ve always been too shy for anything like that, and I don’t like a lot of attention focused on me. It’s stressful.”

    The man takes two steps closer to Connor, who instinctively tenses, not realizing that he ever relaxed just the slightest bit in the first place. The other pauses, then shuffles back half a step, putting his hands in his pockets in a way that makes it obvious that he’s forcing himself to do so, rather than keep them ready for a fight and out in the open.

    “How do I know you aren’t with those three brats and are gonna try your shot at taming my fugly mug into something sellable? Hm? How do I know that no one’s waiting to catch me if I try to leave like you offered?”

    Connor speaks without thinking. “You’re not fugly, just in need of a shower and new clothes.” Connor hates the tense silence that immediately follows, so Connor quickly moves on and fills it, “And, I– uh– I guess you don’t? I mean, I don’t know how to prove it? That I don’t think it’s a good idea to ‘tame’ anyone? I mean, don’t you need those life skills? To like, survive and stuff in our current society?”

    The nekojin only gapes at him as if he’s said something completely absurd, and knowing himself, he probably did without realizing it. When it becomes obvious that Connor isn’t going to continue, the stranger shakes his head incredulously.

    “Do you know how many people would call a nekojin’s feral state ‘life skills’? Even the damn activists have their own ideas about how our sanity should be managed. Are you fucking insane?”

    Connor winces at his tone. “Uh… I mean, you don’t seem feral to me, as such… But I know I’m socially awkward and I’ve been told I’m dense–”

    “I can’t tell if you’re shitting me or if you’re really trying hard to get me to not fucking hate you.” He suddenly sniffs the air and his expression becomes darker. “Something is burning. What the hell are you cooking?”

    Burning? Connor thinks, sniffing the air. He can’t really smell anything. A partial-human’s sense of must be substantially stronger than a pure human’s; a single truth within the many lies of the internet.

    “I was making a breakfast sandwich before you woke up… It might be the biscuits that you smell burning?”

    He should really go pull them out of the oven, but he’s still afraid that this guy will pounce on him again if he tries to make an unannounced move for the door, and he doesn’t want a repeat of that whatsoever. On another note, there is absolutely no way he’s going to have his back turned to an aggressive stranger for any amount of time, especially because this one has claws and fangs. 

    “Fine, I smell the eggs and bacon too, but I’m gonna go sit out where you’ll be cooking so I know where you are and what you’re doing.” He straightens up and crosses his arms defiantly. The post is practically begging Connor to refuse the guy so he can do something about it. Too bad Connor doesn’t want to.

    “That’s fine,” Connor pauses, then tries something bold at the last moment, “As long as you tell me what to call you.” The other startles at that, “I’m tired of calling you ‘stranger’ and ‘nekojin’ in my head.” Connor relaxes his pose just enough to seem like he isn’t ready to spring into any kind of action still, even though he definitely still is. “I’m Connor.”

    He scrutinizes the younger man, then sighs and untenses just a tad. “Fine. Lead the way, then. I’m Hank, and that’s all you’re gonna get outta me.”

    “I didn’t expect anything else.” He attempts a smile that he suspects looks more like a grimace.

    Now that Connor is somewhat confident that the stranger– Hank isn’t going to pounce on him the moment his back is turned, he’s able to exit the door and walk to the kitchen area without looking alarmingly tense and uncomfortable. Connor hears a door close as he finds and pulls on a pair of oven mitts. Connor still keeps a mental map of where Hank is by the sound of his footsteps as he grabs the pan of moderately burned biscuits out of the oven.

    He sets the pan on the counter so the cooked-to-dark-brown biscuits can cool so the trash bag doesn’t melt when he throws them away. Then he swiftly pulls out a stool from the kitchen island and takes the smoke alarm off of the ceiling, then deactivating it right as it begins beeping with the timing and grace of only someone who has done this a million other times can achieve. He gets down and puts the stool back. He moves back to the oven and turns it off all while avoiding having his back completely to Hank, who’s standing in his living room.

    There’s complete silence in the room that makes Connor’s nerves bristle. Connor glances over to the knife block next to the fridge, knowing that he would never actually use them to harm anyone, but he likes to believe he could bluff his way out of a dire situation. Although, now that he’s thinking about it, maybe he couldn’t. Hank would probably be unfazed or get angrier after everything he’s experienced in his lifetime, and that’s if he somehow believes that Connor would actually use said knife after everything he’s said and done.

    Connor jumps when Hank starts speaking.

    “Everything good now? You’ve been standing there starin’ at nothin’ like a lunatic.”

    Connor says nothing, choosing to just nod instead as he casually crosses his arms and leans against the counter next to the oven in a strained act of nonchalance.

    Hank studies him carefully. “Why are you helping me, really?”

    Connor can’t help but silently sigh. He may have already said this once or twice before, and he may not blame the guy in the slightest for not believing him, but still. It’s not like his answer is going to change from when he asked earlier. Although, that may be why he’s asking again, as some form of test or something.

    “Like I said before, I don’t think I’ll get anything tangible out of this. If you really need something, then maybe self-satisfaction or a clean conscious for helping someone in need, but nothing tangible like money.” Hank shoots him a blank look that he hates. He sighs. “I just– My gut told me that you needed some real help, and I was going to give it whether you were a pure human or partial. It’s just that after finding out you had cat ears and a tail, I knew that no hospital in the area was going to give you proper care so 911 was essentially useless. I generally have good intuition when it comes to people, so I trusted it and brought you home instead of leaving you tied down in that nasty alley.” What Connor doesn’t mention aloud is how he’s been regretting not leaving him bandaged up in the cleaner part of that alley ever since he couldn’t see the other man in the guest room’s bed earlier.

    His last statement catches Hank’s attention, who then turns his head to look away from Connor for the first time since being awake and looks out a window. He clears his throat, cutting off Connor’s growing panic. The guy’s head is down and his shoulders are slumped, but it’s still obvious that he’s still on edge and wary of his surroundings and Connor. When he speaks, it sounds like he has to force the sound from his lips.

    “Look, Connor, I’m sorry for snapping at you, even if I don’t entirely regret protecting myself like that. But I still don’t trust or like you, got it?”

    “Yeah. The sentiment is kind of the same right now, no offense.”

    “None taken,” Hank pauses and straightens up, “Do you at least get where I’m coming from, though?” he takes a step forward. “Like, according to society, I am an untamed animal or slave, and I wake up in a strange room and am getting checked on every god damned minute by a complete stranger when the last thing I remember is getting kicked around and beat with broken bottles.” He shakes his head and looks away.

    “I ain’t some starvin’, twink cat that you can just bring home and teach how to trust and love or whatever the fuck else books try to say. Hell, I’m not even a Persian or Maine Coon cat with those big bushy tails like people always love to give us larger people. I’m just an old, fat calico.”

    Hank suddenly stiffens upon saying that last word, but Connor ignores it and lowers his head.

    “I personally don’t agree with the stereotypes as well. But as I offered before,” Connor raises his head to meet Hank’s eyes again, “you’re always welcome to leave, The front door is right there. I’m not keeping you trapped here, and there’s not anyone after you or anything that I know of, so…” Connor shrugs.

    For the first time this morning, Hank looks more uncomfortable than anything else, and Connor doesn’t really have the energy to unpack that. He starting to feel tired because of the lack of adrenaline in his system, so he’ll probably need some caffeinated tea soon. Maybe a new breakfast to go with it, too; his stomach is starting to hurt with hunger because he forgot dinner last night.

    Still, Hank hasn’t responded, so Connor takes this opportunity to give him the explicit option to stay because he’s already given the nekojin multiple outs and, as stupid as Connor knows he can be, he doesn’t think Hank should be left on his own quite yet. Besides, he really doesn’t think that Hank will do any harm for no reason. His anger and violence earlier were understandable at the least, and neither of them seem to want a repeat of that any time soon. Connor doesn’t think he’s making the wrong decision by doing this since Hank’s already here in his apartment, anyway. Emphasis on think.

    “If you wanted to stay, though, I can make you breakfast? Or you can watch me make your breakfast, or just make it yourself if you want. I mean, because I’m willing to bet that you haven’t had anything decent in a while, yeah?” He chuckles awkwardly. It almost works to make the atmosphere less heavy. Almost.

    Hank stares him down, obviously still skeptical and wary of Connor. The creator tries to not do anything that could be taken as suspicious, but that in of itself could be suspicious in a way. A few more seconds pass like this in tense silence before Hank finally sighs and relaxes his shoulders the slightest bit.

    “What the fucking hell is my life anymore.” He mumbles, then raises his voice to a normal speaking level “Alright. I’m gonna sit on that stool,” He points to one of the two the kitchen island, “And I’m gonna watch you so you don’t poison my food. And then you can hear me if I even so much as shuffle, so you’ll know I won’t attack you from behind.”

    “Okay.” He watches as Hank moves with a slight limp in his left leg and sits with a poorly concealed wince. “Did you… did you want to maybe redress your wounds? I have over the counter pain meds if you want, but I doubt you’d trust that.”

    “You’re right. I don’t trust that a single fucking bit. This ain’t nothin’ I haven’t gone through before, so you can quit your worryin’.” Hank hesitates, then continues, almost meeker. “And you don’t need to worry about allergies. I’ll eat anythin’.”

    Connor simply nods in response, already getting used to Hank’s vulgarity and irritation. It’s probably not healthy why he’s already getting used to it, considering it’s mostly due to questionable parenting choices and plenty of childhood bullying, but no one really has the time or patience to unpack that right now (or ever, if Connor has any say in it). Therefore, he does what he does second best, and instead of slowly unpacking that box of troubles and sorting through it like any healthy person should, he simply tapes that box shut tightly with three layers of duct tape and shoves it to the back of his mental storage unit while he takes out his pan cleaner to wash off the remnants of his food before starting Hank’s.

    As he gathers ingredients and tools to the island so Hank can see exactly what Connor is doing at all times, he never once looks up at Hank. The why from earlier tries to rear its ugly head again, but he shoves and forces it down again with practiced ease. Unlike what it has to say about the damnable why, his gut is telling him that Hank isn’t really a bad person, that he’s just been dealt a shit hand in his life. It’s right about people much more often than it’s not, and Connor can only hope that this isn’t one of those times where it’s not.

    He finds himself almost wanting to like Hank, to show him that the world isn’t completely filled with stupid assholes, only mostly full.

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~> Next

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A/N: Hey guys!! I hope you didn’t mind the wait too much, but I ended up changing the plot to this story last minute and rewrote this chapter, like, 3 and a half times now? So, yeah, there’s that. This chapter was a bit angsty and I still kinda really hate it, but!! But!!! I am moving on because Protective Hank™ will be making an appearance next chapter!! The next chapter of The Drift Between Us may not come for a couple of weeks because I have to update the EXO x Reader I’m writing on a blog I share with my friend that I have been neglecting lately Lol. So, that’s pretty much it! Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have a pleasant day/night! 😊💕