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In hindsight, Khaslana should have seen this coming. Frankly, he’s embarrassed it wasn’t immediately a possibility that crossed his mind.
But the cases were already so rare… so few and far in between… he hadn’t thought both him and Phainon would be unlucky recipients of this universe’s idea of a funny joke.
“Phainon.”
Said man perks up at the call of his name and it’s- it’s ridiculous, paired with those fluffy ears. Truly ridiculous. But it might be the cutest thing Khaslana has ever seen.
He stares, for as long as Phainon’s sensibilities seem to allow– which, nowadays, has reached an all-time low. Because every time he catches Khaslana staring in that unashamed way he’ll never stop doing, he smiles like he’s been handed a spontaneous gift, and no matter the setting or where they are, he interrupts it with a kiss.
It works frustratingly well on derailing Khaslana's thoughts. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Phainon was weaponizing it.
The point being– Phainon lasts for approximately fifteen seconds before he sets aside his laptop and prances over to Khaslana’s spot across the room. Khaslana keeps his gaze firmly on Phainon’s faintly smiling face to not arouse suspicion, and when he inevitably comes to a stop to duck down and give Khaslana a kiss, he holds a palm up between their mouths to stop it.
Phainon blinks, puzzled, at the interruption, and starts to pull back. Khaslana doesn’t let him get far, just uses his other hand to reach up above Phainon’s head and lightly tug at one of the fluffy white ears sticking out of his head.
Phainon gives a little startled noise, low in his throat, and his eyes widen.
The ear is soft and warm against Khaslana's fingertips, the snowy fur a perfect match to the silky hair it’s settled upon. He pulls it out of its fold, until it stands straight up. Khaslana smirks to substitute what could have been a snort.
Lowering the hand in front of his mouth, he says, “Have you always had these?”
Phainon’s mouth drops open in a small o. He doesn’t seem to bother checking for himself, doesn’t need to, because Khaslana knows first hand just how sensitive the ears can be. Phainon does grope blindly around behind him, seemingly searching for the matching tail to go with.
It takes a second, but he finds it, curled up against his lower back, already swishing back and forth in a small happy wag. It’s so fluffy that Khaslana can see some of the tufts of white fur peeking out around either side of Phainon’s waist.
“Eh…?” He drags wide eyes back to Khaslana, who is currently using most of his willpower to not ruffle Phainon’s hair just to watch the ears flop back and forth. “You’re kidding…”
“Would you prefer it if I was?” Khaslana lets his hand drop with reluctance, and in the next second has to clench it into a fist as Phainon shakes his head and the ears shake with it.
Incredible.
He thinks perhaps his shifting eyes are dragging trails of fire in their wake with the intensity of his stare, taking in every little detail while bouncing back and forth and back again. Phainon straightens from the hunch that brought them at eye level and reaches up to his head with a frown that’s dangerously close to becoming a pout.
“Aw, man,” he whines, “This is humiliating.” Behind him, his tail wags on, unperturbed and unbothered.
Khaslana crosses his arms, really revels in the sight before him. It was certainly humiliating when Khaslana went through it, but… “Well,” he starts, meeting Phainon’s gaze with barely-contained mirth, “at least you’re cute.”
Phainon’s head falls into his hands with a half-annoyed, mostly-flustered groan. And yet, his tail starts wagging so hard it shakes his torso. “What the–” With flushed cheeks, he grips it with a vengeance, but that does little to stop the excited movement.
Khaslana’s lips twitch, ideas forming in his head faster than he can actually think them through. He watches Phainon turn in multiple half circles like a dog chasing its tail in an attempt to stop it, and thinks:
This week will be fun.
Phainon slumps over the sun-warmed table between them, having to push the hood that falls over his eyes back into place. It does a frankly poor job at hiding the shape of the ears, since they take up a third of his head, but he takes the confused stares and bewildered double-takes like a champ. Most people tend to mind their own business nowadays.
The tail is similarly hard to hide, not near slim enough to be tucked into his pants like Khaslana’s was. He opts for wearing the most oversized hoodie he owns– one of Khaslana’s that he swears he’s only been borrowing for the past six months– and shoving the curly puffball underneath it between his back and the bag he carries over his shoulders.
For the umpteenth time since the day before, when Khaslana truly believes he merely blinked and the features appeared, Phainon whines. It doesn't help his overall image if he’s even trying to not sound so much like a whiny puppy.
He doesn't complain, at the least, because now that it’s their second time around they know what to expect, and by the end of the week everything will return to normal as if this never even happened. Well, except for the cursory, Are you kidding me? Mine are way bigger than yours were! I have to hide this for a week?
Khaslana merely gave him a wordless, expressionless stare, and he watched in real time as Phainon’s ears and tail drooped in defeat.
Khaslana, unable to help himself, reaches a hand beneath the purple hood to scratch between Phainon’s ears, who immediately leans into the touch like it’s second nature.
The chain reaction sends his tail wagging, the muffled sounds of fabric flapping back and forth only fueling Khaslana’s smile. He doesn’t comment on it, and instead counts the seconds it takes for Phainon to eventually bat away his hand and shake himself out of the trance. Twelve, this time.
Khaslana returns his hands to himself, propping his cheek on a fist and watching Phainon mope beneath the shade of one of the many beautiful trees around campus. This specific table has been their go-to spot since before they even roomed together, far enough away from the bustle of the main campus to provide momentary peace, but close enough to the nearby buildings so they don’t have to rush to their classes.
Not that either of them has ever been late before. Sick days included.
Phainon reaches dejectedly for his thermos of coffee, taking a forlorn sip before he sighs and sits up straight again. Khaslana doesn’t bother hiding his stare as he follows the invisible path the drink takes, from Phainon’s lips down his bobbing throat and further still until it disappears out of his view.
He catches Phainon’s gaze when it next travels up, and he smiles in that confused but pleasant way of his. Khaslana wishes with a sudden, dizzying fierceness that he could tear off that cursed hood and see those adorable ears again.
Alas, public is public, so he settles for gripping the hoodie strings in a single fist and tugging Phainon halfway across the table to plant a firm kiss on his enticing lips.
“Let's have dinner in tonight,” Khaslana says, like nothing even happened, releasing Phainon and casually sitting back.
Phainon takes a couple of seconds to reboot, eyes wide over faintly flushed cheeks, and nods absently. “Okay.” Then he blinks, smiles, eyes sparkling. “I'd love to.”
On cue, the telltale sound of his tail wagging starts up again. Khaslana smirks but otherwise says nothing.
There's a part of him, a dark, writhing thing, that wants to keep Phainon locked away in their home for the entire week. To prevent anyone from seeing him like this.
Khaslana is possessive on a good day, and although jealousy isn’t really his thing, it’s different when it comes to Phainon. Most things are.
Phainon is nobody’s pet, least of all Khaslana’s just because they’re dating, but there’s a slithering voice in the back of his head that whispers at him to claim what is rightfully his.
So, perhaps his motives for staying in with Phainon aren’t as innocent as he lets on, but he has a feeling that Phainon doesn’t really care either way.
Khaslana entertains the idea of telling these thoughts straight up to Phainon, coming clean and seeing his reaction.
Well, Khaslana thinks, as the breeze ruffles Phainon’s hood and threatens to reveal those ears for all to see, perhaps there will be an opportunity soon.
Compared to Khaslana’s hesitance– not shyness, Phainon– to seek Phainon's touch despite the fact that, yes, he wanted it the entire first couple of days of his own transformation, Phainon eagerly and unabashedly seeks out Khaslana's pets.
Khaslana defends that they weren’t together then, and though Phainon keeps saying his feelings were super obvious, Khaslana still didn’t want to assume and shove himself into Phainon’s space. Phainon stresses that he would’ve loved that, but that’s besides the point.
Khaslana indulges him, because how could he not? With Phainon tilting his head like that, eyes a sparkling pool of blue, ears fluffy and enticing? Impossible.
Phainon makes him a weak, weak man. And that’s not even to mention the lethal puppy dog eyes. Made literal with the ears and tail now, it’s a fatal combination.
Over the course of two days, Phainon drapes himself all over Khaslana any chance he gets. He stretches out over him on the couch, basically shoving his head in Khaslana’s lap or hand, hugs him from behind and hooks his chin over his shoulder so that Khaslana instinctually reaches back and scratches at his ears– and the worst of all is when he isn’t even trying to seek attention.
Sometimes, he’s just simply standing around, not doing much of anything, but his tail is almost always in a perpetual wag, and Khaslana gets entranced by the fluffiness of it. Multiple times he has grabbed at it and made Phainon jump nearly half a meter up into the air with a very undignified yelp and a Don’t sneak up on me like that!
And when they wake up next to each other and Phainon is still half-asleep, his eyes dazed and sleepy but smiling anyhow, it really feels like the dawn breaking over a stormy night.
The ear pressed against the pillow is always rumpled, folded in on itself. The other is a relaxed perk, twitching lazily while he wakes up. His hair fans out, sticks to the apples of his sleep-warm cheeks, curls at his nape and around the ears. And behind him, his tail is a cloud of fluff, already thumping contently against the mattress, soft and unobtrusive but just loud enough for Khaslana to know exactly how happy Phainon is to wake up next to him.
And then to make it even worse, he always snuggles closer to Khaslana if they’re not already tangled up in each other’s arms, whether that means he tugs him into his chest from behind or is the one nuzzling into Khaslana’s chest, it makes Khaslana’s heart throb painful and quick. Makes him kiss right between Phainon’s ears, walk them down to his forehead and then his nose.
Then he bites his cheek, ignoring Phainon’s whines of the “ruined moment.”
Khaslana never once apologizes. If anything, it’s Phainon who should be apologizing for all the heart squeezing he’s been causing in such a short amount of time. Khaslana might have to get himself checked out if this doesn’t stop. Or else his boyfriend will seriously kill him.
Every new moment, no matter how small, just makes Khaslana want to spoil Phainon even more, to keep him happy and content 24/7. Anything to watch the way his ears rise with his smile, the way his tail moves with his excitement. How he waves at Khaslana from across campus, hiding what Khaslana knows to be a tail wagging multiple kilometers per hour.
There was one time, while studying, that Phainon reached up and scratched at his own ear with a concentrated frown. When he lowered his hand back down, it flicked twice against his head, brushing a couple strands aside with the movement.
Such a simple, mindless action, and yet an arrow pierced Khaslana's heart all the same, and he walked over to Phainon to hug him around the shoulders and bury his face in his hair– utterly defeated.
Phainon discovers pretty quickly the power he has over Khaslana, and uses it whenever he pleases.
He convinces Khaslana to shower with him one morning, aiming the full force of a puppy-dog-eyes-plus-pout expression at him– folded ears and all– until Khaslana relented before he fell to his knees or something equally humiliating.
In the shower, Khaslana is confronted with the ultimate test of his self-control. He is comfortable in the confidence he has over the control of his mind and body; he knows himself, knows what he can or cannot take, knows his limits and when to surpass them.
Evidently, he had yet to account for “boyfriend suddenly becoming a dogboy and being the literal cutest thing on this planet.” Which, in his defense, who would?
As it were, Phainon is humming happily in the cramped space of their shared shower, warm water spraying them both and steam rising between them. His back is turned.
Khaslana is busy with a buffering brain, staring dumbly at the water droplets sliding down Phainon’s back dimples and clinging to his curly tail, clenching his empty hands into fists to avoid petting through it like he knows both his brain and Phainon want.
The view from behind is incredible. Phainon’s strong legs and hips that get offset by the puffy, adorable tail curling against his lower back, the shifting of his wide shoulders and strong neck– the hair that curls there, wet and enticing– all the way to the top of his head where his ears swivel sporadically, quivering occasionally as though reacting to the sound of the water.
It’s cute. It’s all so cute. Khaslana’s losing his mind.
Phainon cuts an imposing figure when there’s nothing covering up all those muscles, and yet the ears and tail contrast so drastically with it all that it adds a… charming quality to it. Something Khaslana can’t get enough of, no matter how long or how hard he stares. He wants to reach out, thumb at the damp fur at the base of the ears; wants to stroke that tail, feel how it wags in response to his touch.
Khaslana’s nails dig into his palms.
He will not give in.
Phainon turns around with a small, genuine smile. Khaslana jerks his eyes up and away as though caught looking at something he shouldn't. He thinks his cheeks are flushed from more than just the heat.
Phainon’s eyes crease a little at the corners. He’s gorgeous even with his hair plastered to his head, and that fond smile perks his ears as well, like a puppy getting excited when its owner comes home from work. Water sluices down his body in rivulets, carving and melting repetitive lines down his collarbones, his chest, his stomach, his–
“Khas?” he calls, sounding amused. This time, Khaslana drags his eyes away slowly and with intent, up and up until he reaches Phainon’s face once more.
“You know I don't mind you ogling me,” he teases, “but I would hate to waste water.”
“Right,” Khaslana responds, absently. Phainon’s naked body isn’t a novelty, nor is this the most intimate thing they’ve ever done, but for some reason Khaslana’s brain is skipping and stuttering like a broken record player.
It’s those goddamn ears, he curses in his head, glaring at the aforementioned devils. He’d reach up and rip them right off Phainon’s head if he didn’t know that one, that isn’t possible, and two, it would hurt Phainon a lot.
And also, despite all his inner fuming, he really enjoys the image of Phainon with big, goofy dog ears. You’d think that someone with a body like Phainon’s couldn’t one day have fluffy ears and a tail pop up on him and make it look cute, but Phainon makes anything work. He’s attractive, frustratingly so. It’s why Khaslana is so keen to keep him all to himself, among other reasons.
He loves Phainon, loves the half-folded, half-perked ears atop his head that enhance his facial expressions, and loves the tail that wags with every positive emotion Phainon experiences. So he'll endure and savor it until it ends.
Phainon breaks through his thoughts by handing him a shampoo bottle, the expensive kind that was originally Khaslana’s and then one day they just started sharing. Khaslana takes it with tingling fingers and the mounting realization creeping up on him widens his eyes with horror.
“You wouldn’t…” he whispers, to which Phainon smiles cryptically.
“Wash my hair for me?” he requests faux-innocently, the final nail in the coffin. Stray drops of water catch on his ear and get flicked off in the next second, like instinct.
“You can wash the ears too,” Phainon continues, knowing exactly what he’s doing, “just be careful.”
Don’t give in.
Khaslana's grip on the bottle tightens until the plastic creaks. Inside his head, a tiny voice goes, Fuck yes! He glares at Phainon, right into his eyes glinting with mischief, trying to telepathically project every emotion he’s feeling right now.
In the end, he merely sighs, because he’s what they call whipped, and really he could only resist temptation for so long.
He gives in.
“Sure,” Khaslana says. Phainon doesn’t outwardly celebrate his victory, but the smug little smile on his lips as he turns gives him away. Just for that, Khaslana yanks at his hair. Phainon giggles, ears tilting out with it.
Whatever. His pride is still intact, at least. And this way, it’s a win-win. Phainon gets to feel like he won something over Khaslana, and Khaslana gets to unabashedly run his hands all through Phainon's hair. And the ears, of course.
With a final huff, he upends the bottle and squeezes a generous amount in his palm. Phainon’s already got a hand up to put it back before Khaslana even clicks the cap shut.
Hands now free, Khaslana lathers the shampoo until both palms are covered, and with a gulp, descends them into Phainon’s hair. Immediately, he starts scratching at the wet locks, starting at the back of Phainon’s shaggy head, making sure to be thorough as he moves both hands up and around.
It foams up quickly, the pleasant scent of something woodsy and refreshing filling the space. It's familiar, relaxing, has Phainon sighing at the same time a small smile settles on Khaslana's lips. Like Phainon said, he’s careful around the ears, makes sure to only rub the backs and tips with gentle, experienced hands. After all, he had to wash around his own pair before.
Even like this, wet and sudsy, he still loves the feeling of them. Loves how they’re warm like Phainon’s human ears often get. Khaslana makes sure to get his tail too, a small wicked part of him delighting in the way it shivers and jerks in his hold, in the way Phainon’s shoulders keep jumping as Khaslana straightens the tail out, combs gentle but firm fingers through the long fur.
He turns Phainon with a sudsy hand on his shoulder, reaching for a refill and watching Phainon swipe his sopping bangs out of his eyes. He looks kind of ridiculous, so much like a wet dog, and Khaslana’s heart swells with a fondness he can do nothing about but to lean in and kiss Phainon. Short, chaste, but sweet.
Phainon’s smile widens into something sappy, his waterlogged tail wagging beneath the spray and splattering soapy water on every nearby vertical surface. Khaslana huffs a chuckle, and returns to massaging the shampoo into Phainon’s hair, combing it all back to gather atop his head.
“Ruined all my hard work,” he complains unseriously, completely deadpan, to which Phainon merely shrugs. His tail keeps on wagging.
When he’s done with Phainon’s hair, he rinses his hands and drapes his arms lazily around Phainon’s waist. Phainon combs Khaslana's bangs off from where they cling to his cheeks, probably thinking the exact same thing Khaslana was earlier, before he returns the favor and scrubs diligently at his scalp.
Khaslana hasn’t been part-cat for a few months now, but as Phainon’s nails pass through his hair and down to his nape, he feels the urge to purr, eyes shutting in bliss. Until Phainon hums and says, “Like a wet kitten,” under his breath, and Khaslana swats at his side in retaliation while Phainon laughs.
Before Phainon can retreat out of his arms, Khaslana catches his forearm and presses a lingering kiss to his wrist. His gaze lingers on the muscles in his biceps and relaxed shoulders, his strong jaw, the tattoo nestled in the crook of his neck– and, of course, the flick of his ears, snowy fur interspersed with bubbly suds.
“Love you,” Khaslana murmurs into the thin skin beneath his lips, right over the pulse of it, watching Phainon’s eyes widen slightly as his breath hitches in his chest. His tail slows, too, to something the same tempo as a quick heartbeat.
Ba-bump, Ba-bump, Ba-bump– Khaslana feels it too.
Khaslana releases him and steps back, arms falling. Then, he turns Phainon back around. “Duck your head,” he instructs, Phainon immediately obeying, and he rinses out the suds with gentle hands minding both the vulnerable insides of his ears and his eyes. Kisses the back of each one once they’re rinsed, smiling at the way they flick against his lips, sensitive.
When the last of the shampoo swirls down the drain, Phainon whirls around– slips a little on the wet floor but catches himself in the next second using the wall– and pulls Khaslana in by his bicep into a kiss. His hand squeezes and then gentles as their lips move, slides up to Khaslana’s shoulder and then out across his chest.
They separate with a mutual soft breath. Phainon smiles, warm. “I love you too.” His voice is low and intimate, lilting in a way that makes Khaslana’s guts squirm with butterflies. He fights the extreme urge to pull Phainon right back in and kiss him silly, until that smile turns into something gasping and overwhelmed.
Before he gets the chance, Phainon huffs, satisfied, and backs up until Khaslana’s beneath the spray. His ears flatten in the brief time they’re under the shower, but pop right back up once the coast is clear.
He hums a vaguely familiar tune as Khaslana squeezes his eyes shut to avoid the terrifying soap-in-eyes ordeal, Phainon’s hands rinsing the foamy suds out with care.
A few minutes later after they decide to wash their own bodies, Phainon’s got the conditioner bottle in his hands, Khaslana pressed up close against his back and chin hooked over his shoulder. His guard is lowered.
With a silent smirk, Khaslana grips roughly at the base of Phainon’s tail, strokes down it like he’s wringing the water out of it. Beneath his chin and against his chest, Phainon stiffens. A small sound escapes him, high-pitched.
“I love your tail,” Khaslana murmurs. “It’s so expressive.” He thinks fondly back to all the times it would start wagging in Khaslana’s presence, how it would turn quick and excited when Khaslana touched him or initiated affection.
Khaslana found that it was basically an extension of Phainon’s heart. And if not that, then there was clearly a direct link from it to the part of Phainon’s brain that stores all the sappy, love-related feelings. Khaslana’s not particularly an ass guy, but he’s kept noticing himself staring down at Phainon’s, to watch the tail as it goes, and goes, and goes.
Khaslana keeps a hold of it, about halfway where it stubbornly still curls despite all the water weighing it down. He ducks his head and mouths at Phainon’s shoulder, licking the moisture there, sucking at the clean skin.
Phainon’s head tilts sideways with a breathless noise to make room. His ears, with fur sticking up in uneven spikes from the water, swivel and twitch. Khaslana wants to lick at them, kind of like how Phainon licked his before. Unfortunately, his mouth is already occupied, so he ups the suction to make up for it.
Khaslana’s free hand makes itself known by settling below Phainon’s navel. Phainon’s chest jumps and freezes. As reactive as always, his tail jolts in his grip, trying to wag even though it can’t move that much.
So excited from just a touch… Khaslana’s eyes squint with amusement. Expecting something?
He slides his hand up, glide smooth from the water, across Phainon's adonis belt and all the way up to his chest. Phainon doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, one flying up to stabilize himself against the wall and the other still clutching the bottle at his side, hovering slightly above his waist to allow Khaslana’s wandering touch.
Khaslana laps at the mark he made, a deep purplish-red, and nuzzles behind Phainon’s ear. He breathes in deep the intoxicating scent of their shared shampoo combined with something that is uniquely Phainon; electric, a faint musk, undoubtedly flesh and blood– Human.
Into his ear, Khaslana purrs, “Want me to do your conditioner too, Baby?”
Despite the heat, Phainon shudders. He whimpers faintly, a barely-there sound caught in his throat.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
Khaslana slides his hand even further up. Stipples his fingers in the hollow of Phainon’s throat.
“Yeah?”
Phainon’s throat bobs and clicks as he swallows, directly against Khaslana's fingertips. He nods. Whispers, “Please.”
Khaslana hums, lets go of his tail that immediately starts up a staccato rhythm against Khaslana’s belly. His hand slides down and away from Phainon’s throat as he steps away completely, eyeing with extreme satisfaction the way Phainon looks to be catching his breath, leaning heavily against the wall and knees trembling.
That’ll teach him for all his teasing. Another victory for Khaslana.
“Alright,” Khaslana says, voice back to normal if not a notch lower, “Hand it over, then.” And since he can’t help himself, he finishes it with, “Pup.”
People had already likened Phainon to a puppy, Khaslana himself included, due to his loyal nature and bright, sunny disposition. The comparison was impossible not to make. And now, with the addition of the ears and tail, he fits the part perfectly.
His ears twist and turn at sudden sounds, perk at Khaslana’s voice, and flatten to his head when particularly frustrated. His tail doesn’t just wag when he’s happy or excited; sometimes it swishes in a lazy rhythm when he’s focused, thumps every few seconds as if getting rid of restless energy.
His grinning visage topped with big, fluffy ears and that eagerly wagging tail currently haunt Khaslana’s every waking and sleeping moment. And he sees it every day. It’s a simultaneous Heaven and Hell.
All the little mannerisms that Phainon already had being amplified by the new features… sometimes it’s too much for Khaslana’s heart to handle. Sometimes he wants to gather Phainon up in his arms and squeeze until something breaks.
Phainon may be the more verbally affectionate one between the two of them, but Khaslana… he’s obsessed. To put it lightly. Has been ever since they met.
He’s just… skilled at hiding it, whereas Phainon wears his heart on his sleeve. Or maybe Phainon is oblivious to Khaslana’s specific type of devotion.
It’s a love that consumes. A black hole, and Phainon is his guiding sun. Either way, they’re getting swallowed.
They're lounging together on the couch a little over halfway through the week, Phainon’s legs slung sideways over Khaslana’s, when he mentally shakes himself out of the unblinking stare he had fixed intently on Phainon's face. He thinks back on his thoughts earlier in the week, when he and Phainon were seated outside and Khaslana figured that, purposeful or not, Phainon would eventually come to know of his possessive thoughts. No time like the present.
Breaching the comfortable quiet, Khaslana asks, “Would you let me break you?”
Phainon looks up from his book. His expression does what can only be described as a double take; he frowns, it smooths out, then he frowns again, harder. Lowers his book to his lap.
“What?”
“If I wanted to break you,” Khaslana pauses, lets his words sink in, “would you let me?”
Immediately, Phainon says, "I'd let you do anything to me,” then he seems to actually think on it. His ears do a funny little movement, the folded one perking slightly, like somehow they’re necessary in his decision making.
Khaslana reaches out and pats his head, strokes his bangs back away from his face and cradles his cheek. Just to touch him. Just to feel how, even while thinking, Phainon leans instinctively into the touch. As always, he’s effortlessly beautiful.
He’d eat this boy alive if he let him.
“I feel like there’s no point in trying to figure out your train of thought,” Phainon huffs. “Obviously my answer is yes.”
Khaslana takes a slow, deep breath. Drops his hand and stares at Phainon’s faintly smiling face with something burning building up within him.
“Great,” he says, voice gone gravely, “Come here, then.” He pats his lap, where Phainon’s calves currently are.
Phainon freezes. “Eh?” The grin slides off his face. “Right now?!”
Khaslana raises a brow, wordless. Phainon lasts four seconds before he folds like a lawn chair. “I–“ He bites his lip. “Okay, yes, yeah. Sure sure. Yep.”
He (carefully) tosses his book onto the coffee table, extracts his legs from Khaslana's lap, and scrambles to take a seat. His long limbs make it an awkward struggle, his eagerness causing him to fumble, but Khaslana easily grips his waist and situates him properly.
Really, he’s just too adorable.
“Excited?” He curls a finger beneath Phainon’s chin, scratches gently at it like he’s an actual dog. Phainon preens at the attention all the same, eyes a happy squint and tail thumping its delighted melody.
“You don’t need me to answer that,” he responds distractedly, too busy tilting his head further into Khaslana’s touch.
Khaslana hums. “No, I don’t.” He stops his movement, holds Phainon still by his chin, and pecks his pliant lips. “But I'd like to hear it anyway.”
Phainon turns the most wonderful shade of red then, and his ears pin back against his head. Somehow, he’s managed to look even cuter while flustered.
Khaslana wants to mold him in his hands like clay. Break him apart and put him back together.
Phainon stares down with abashed eyes, a shy tilt to his head as he struggles to maintain eye contact. Khaslana watches it all happen, every twitch and squirm, thumb gently pressed to the corner of his mouth. Phainon’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, catches the tip of Khaslana's thumb along the way. Fire surges beneath his skin, tightens his grip and sharpens his stare.
Phainon exhales shakily. “I'm excited,” he finally says, low but not a mumble, gorgeous in his confidence.
Khaslana smiles, a slow, indulgent thing, and says, “Good boy.”
Phainon gulps, chokes back a whimper that manages to escape anyway. “You really are treating me like a dog,” he mutters.
Khaslana's smile tilts. Pointedly, he tugs at Phainon’s ear. “Is that not what you are?”
Phainon’s tail swishes against his knee, damning. They both know it.
Khaslana lets his hand fall away back to Phainon’s hip, lightly gripping either side.
It's a reverse of when it happened with Khaslana. This time, it’s Phainon on Khaslana's lap, looking down at him from just above eye level, his tail already wagging a fierce, excited tempo.
Khaslana thinks about that day often, and not just because it’s when he found out his feelings were returned– in a very Phainon-typical way, which is to say, accidentally– but because he remembers the pure bliss he felt laying there on Phainon’s chest, hands in his hair and on his tail.
He wants to return even a bit of that, if he can, to Phainon.
Phainon settles his weight firmly on Khaslana's thighs, his knees pressing into the couch cushions. His hands come up to Khaslana’s shoulders, then his nape, burying his fingers in the hair there.
Khaslana hums happily, a low sound from his chest, and squeezes around Phainon’s waist. He tilts his head up, leans until Phainon’s parted lips are centimeters from his own.
“Don't be shy, puppy.”
Phainon shudders, cheeks already a ruddy red, darkening in uneven splotches. He inhales, probably to say something along the lines of I’m not, but Khaslana closes the distance and swallows up whatever words could’ve escaped. Phainon’s exhale leaves him in a muffled sigh.
Kissing Phainon never gets old. Khaslana believes it never will. There's just something addicting about how Phainon kisses with his entire body. He tilts his head, parts his gasping lips, leans into it with chest and hips. Like it’s the best thing he’s ever experienced. Every time.
It’s endearing, the way he gets so into it. The way he seems to lose himself when Khaslana kisses him until oxygen doesn’t matter anymore. And he’s not afraid to make noise, the kind of noises Khaslana wants to bottle up and keep all to himself.
The kinds he wants to draw out of him in public just to show off the way he swallows them, the way they’re muffled right into Khaslana's mouth.
See this? Hear this? he wants to taunt, This is all mine.
And yet, at the same time, he thinks he would kill anyone who overheard.
Khaslana dips his hands beneath Phainon’s shirt, caressing the warm skin of his hips, palms hot enough to brand. Phainon squirms a bit, a soft, incoherent noise sounding from his throat. Khaslana can feel the way Phainon’s tail is wagging so intensely it’s beginning to shake the rest of him.
He ignores it for now, though he gives it a passing squeeze as his hands creep up Phainon’s spine that dips beneath his searching touch. Hard-earned muscles bunch and twitch, sensitive in a way that makes Khaslana kiss harder, deeper. Makes him lick at the seam of Phainon’s swollen lips until he’s granted entrance.
Phainon doesn’t go down without a fight. As their tongues tangle for dominance, Khaslana’s hands continue their exploring. It's nothing he hasn’t seen or felt before, but he still loves this; loves Phainon’s body. His broad shoulders and packed muscles, all the strength he keeps hidden.
Phainon’s tongue wins the battle Khaslana was far too distracted to actually put effort into, and he groans, guttural, as Phainon licks into his mouth like he’s searching for something. Across his canines, behind his teeth. A deep probe that Phainon chases until it presses Khaslana's head back against the couch.
Just like a dog, Khaslana muses, lightheaded, messy and eager.
Phainon finally pulls back with an obscenely wet sound, licking absently at the drool that escapes his lips. They're shiny and slick, dark with the blood that fills the rest of his face, parted to make way for his pants.
That expression…
Phainon looks dazed, eyes lidded, chest jumping. Trying to get as close as possible though their bodies are already pressed together. As usual, his ears sit atop his head, at attention. He's blissed out from just a kiss and Khaslana’s hands on his skin.
Khaslana drags his hands from Phainon’s shoulder blades around to his taut stomach. He twitches at the ticklish sensation, fingers jerking at Khaslana's nape, clutching tighter. Khaslana watches every little reaction with a hunger burning in his eyes.
When his hands slide up to Phainon’s chest, the shirt lifting with it to reveal mouth-wateringly smooth, pale skin, Phainon's eyes squeeze shut, his labored breaths going quick. His heart thunders beneath Khaslana's palm.
Khaslana cups the feeling, presses into it like he could actually reach inside and tear it out himself.
The thought makes him shudder.
His hands skirt back down, return to Phainon’s waist. While Phainon isn’t looking, Khaslana leans in and bites at the side of his throat, right over the stretching rays of his sun tattoo. The startled noise he gains in response makes his lips twitch, a smile he smothers to instead shift and bite harder, closer to Phainon’s shoulder.
Phainon whimpers. The tip of his tail tickles Khaslana's knuckles. He sucks at the ring of teeth marks until it turns hot and bruised. With barely a breath between, he moves a handful of centimeters further down and repeats the process.
Phainon twitches and jerks every single time he’s bitten, his hips squirming and his fingers clenching and tugging helplessly at Khaslana’s hair. His reactions are driving Khaslana crazy.
With a growl, Khaslana curls his fingers into possessive claws, his nails a biting sting into the soft skin at Phainon’s hips.
Phainon yelps this time, but it trails off into a moan when Khaslana abruptly switches sides.
“Are you sure,” Phainon manages, tone a wrecked rasp, “that you’re not the– oh– the dog?” Khaslana bites his jaw. “Khas–”
“Mm,” Khaslana hums into Phainon’s throat, not even a response, barely paying attention. He tries to sound nonchalant, but evidenced by Phainon’s tiny shiver, he failed.
He eases off the biting, opts instead to suck at where Phainon’s pulse thumps hard and frantic. He has a brief, vivid fantasy of tearing into the skin until he tastes blood, imagines the warmth and sharp tang of it.
Khaslana's chest heaves. His fingers flex, restless.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he whispers hotly, apropos of nothing. His hand reaches around to Phainon’s lower back, grips the base of his tail firm but not cruel.
“Y-Yeah,” Phainon pants, obviously distracted. His tail continues wagging on and on, even as Khaslana squeezes it to feel the fluff of it until Phainon jerks and jolts in his hold.
He keeps his fist there and, with reluctance, removes his hand from under Phainon’s shirt to instead reach up past his head. He gives one last parting kiss to his throat, starkly different from his bites in its tenderness, and leans back to watch Phainon’s face.
He grips the back of his head, a solid handful of hair, and tugs. Phainon’s lashes flutter, his chest jumping. Khaslana takes it in, voracious, blood pumping molten hot in his veins. He doesn’t linger; moves further up until he reaches the base of Phainon’s ears. Behind them. He scratches, until the ears shiver and Phainon’s lips part.
“I want to own you,” Khaslana continues. And he realizes the insanity of the statement, even as he has one hand on Phainon’s tail and the other at his ears. Phainon meets his eyes steadily despite the faint tremor in his thighs and shoulders; despite the dark flush in his cheeks.
Despite how Khaslana's gaze is eating him alive.
“Keep you all to myself. Never let anyone else see you.” Khaslana’s hand slides around to the side of Phainon’s head, pinches at the furry base of the folded ear, thumbing it back straight. It’s blood-hot, even here. His other hand, still holding Phainon’s wagging tail in a firm grip, loosens instead so he can press down on Phainon's lower back; urge his hips even closer.
Let not a single molecule exist between them.
“You’d look good in a collar,” he adds offhandedly.
Phainon nods dumbly in response to Khaslana’s words. It's clear he’s off somewhere in the clouds, eyes hazy with pleasure, but he still reacts to Khaslana's voice and touches all the same. He trusts, and he hands himself over voluntarily; body and mind.
It’s dizzying, having a man as strong as Phainon submit to you. It shivers up Khaslana's spine, darkens the feeling in his chest into something wicked.
“Yeah?” he drawls, captivated by the contrast of Phainon’s snowy hair and crimson cheeks, the marks standing out angrily all across his throat. “You’d let me keep you all to myself?”
Phainon nods again. Licks his lips. His voice is low and ruined when he speaks. “Always have been yours.”
Fuck. Fuck.
“It's like you want me to rip you to shreds,” Khaslana mutters hysterically to himself, awed.
Phainon doesn’t respond. Whether it’s because he didn’t hear or he’s too out of it matters little to Khaslana. His tail is slow but clearly pleased, his chest heaving with deep, heavy breaths.
Phainon’s hips shift. A slow, purposeful, dirty grind.
The heat between them rockets, turns feverish.
Khaslana grins, all teeth, and makes good on his promise to break the man on top of him.
They’re laying together in tired, comfortable silence when Phainon– ears and tail gone– speaks, voice rough.
“That was shorter than a week. Do you think it goes away whenever we have sex?”
Khaslana bites him. And then keeps biting him even when Phainon apologizes through laughter. Obviously not. It took days after the fact for Khaslana to go back to normal.
“Will it come back if we–”
“Shut up.”