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"Can you scratch under the sweater too?"
The moment these words left his mouth, Tiger regretted them. Lynx's touch was already hesitant enough, but how annoying just a few millimeters of fabric could be. His small palm was so close, his ragged breathing barely audible somewhere behind Tiger's ear. It felt like the only thing Tiger ever wanted was to feel those fingertips on his skin, nails scratching until it bleeds, friction causing his entire back to sting even worse.
And then he could no longer feel him. Wavering fingers fluttered away, leaving the air between them electrified.
What a stubborn, scared little cat.
Tiger squeezed his eyes and froze. Maybe if he didn't move, the time wouldn't move either. He didn't want to be confronted with the realization that the fleeting moment of intimacy was really over.
A few seconds later, when the disappointment had almost settled, the fingers did shyly slip under his clothes, glided up softly along the spine, and then, as if finally remembering, went back to scraping somewhere at his side.
Tiger inhaled slowly — too afraid to make a sound.
"Do you think they will learn now?" Whispered Lynx, his honeyed voice coming from much closer than Tiger remembered him being.
Right, the cats.
He opened his eyes. Jiro was looking down at them with mild disinterest, but as if caught, Tiger glanced away.
Naughty paw, meanwhile, curled around his waist, the scratches only echoing in the circular movement of the fingers.
"Maybe a little," he caught Lynx's palm, slightly pressing it into his skin, which, as if burnt, snapped back.
Tiger sighed. It was always like this. He made a step forward, and Lynx made ten steps back. So he turned around, searching for some hint, and finally looked him in the eyes — such pretty eyes, slightly pink at the corners, glassy as if he was on the verge of crying. The lips were moist and plump, and Tiger couldn't help but run his thumb along them, which was probably too much, and he knew it, but it was the least he could do without going completely insane.
Lynx stilled under his touch, flustered, slightly embarrassed, turned on, maybe a little scared, and so beautiful it made Tiger's breath catch.
"But don't you want to show them?" He asked, feeling a little guilty about using the kids in his own selfish way.
"Show them what?" Lynx's voice turned small and so, so cute. It took all of Tiger's willpower not to act on his shameful desires. Not to turn him around, not to sink his teeth into the sweetly scented neck, not to plunge his long fingers into the tight pink hole he kept dreaming about.
"Taking the medicine. It's not scary, right?" He took Lynx's chin, mesmerized by the way his lips parted just slightly as he shook his head.
"Just squeeze the cheeks a little," he did, and Lynx opened his mouth wider.
"And pop the pill at the back of the scratchy tongue."
As Tiger's thumb ran along the shiny bottom teeth and then further into the warmth of his mouth Lynx's hips slowly drew forward to grind on his thigh. The erection, unmistakable even through a few layers of fabric, poked into him, and Tiger suppressed the smile, thinking about how pent up his little kitty was.
Good thing he's here to help him now.
His thumb pressed into Lynx's tongue that contracted under it and then uncertainly circled around once. Their eyes stayed glued together. Tiger's heated gaze against Lynx's mortified one.
After a few caresses, as if petting the sticky muscle, Tiger pulled his thumb out, smearing the saliva down Lynx's chin and neck and decidedly coming to rest on his Adam's apple.
"And then you just have to make sure they swallow," he leaned in, whispering into Lynx's ear, and felt him gulp with his own fingertips.
"Good boy." Tiger's lips closed around his earlobe, and Lynx once again jumped back trying to put distance between them, except his hands had been grabbing at Tiger's arms and clothes for a long time already, and then he didn't manage to back much further than a few centimeters because this time Tiger was ready and wouldn't let him go, pinning him into the floor, with a strong hand right in the middle of his chest and another gripping his wrist, while his knee anchored itself between Lynx's legs.
"Lynx… baby, please. I'll make you feel good, okay?" Tiger wasn't above begging, not when those big doll-like eyes were practically begging him in return.
"You just have to trust me."
He slipped his hand under Lynx's t-shirt, squeezing at the soft tummy and cupping the small tits, playing with the perked-up nipples, all while muttering sweet praises somewhere into the crook of his neck. It truly felt like he was drifting, the only purpose of his in this life to make the stubborn cat come. His own throbbing cock kept leaking, entirely forgotten.
"Can you, honey?" He raised his head to look Lynx in the eyes, which already spilled the hot tears, and for some time they just looked at each other, with Tiger's hand softly caressing Lynx's thigh being the only movement, which felt overly quiet after everything.
Lynx did nod eventually. Hesitantly, pouting, and barely blinking, but there was no hiding how badly he needed it, and Tiger knew. He leaned in to kiss his cheek while pulling the band of Lynx's pajama pants lower for it just to snap back under his balls, revealing a tiny cock for Tiger to wrap his palm around. He looked down at their conjunction, where Lynx's precome and the remains of saliva spilled through the gaps in between his lanky fingers that moved playfully up and down his kitten's shaft. Even his dick seemed cute to Tiger — small and smooth, the wet head sparkling under the soft moonlight.
He moved his thumb to press down onto the urethral opening, which elicited a delightful high-pitched mewl from Lynx, and leaned down, breathing in the vanilla scent once again, squeezing harder in hopes of hearing another lovely whimper.
At that point Lynx seemed to give up completely and wrapped his arms around Tiger's back, nails scratching the irritated skin now entirely unconsciously. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had lost control, that all his movement was frantic and meaningless now.
But he wanted it so bad. Wanted Tiger to relieve the pulsing aching feeling that spread everywhere. He wanted his fingers, wanted his lips, his tongue. He wanted Tiger to fuck him so much it hurt.
It was perfect all until Tiger's hand sneaked down from his needy cock to play with his balls, and his middle finger grazed the puckered hole, which made Lynx squirm — it was too much all at once. He was already beyond embarrassed by his position. It was true that he was the one who brought this onto himself, but the shame of being so visibly aroused underneath the closed body was still strong. For a moment he wished they had sex instead. Though it was much more intimate, they would've been more equal.
A weak sob into his shoulder made Tiger retreat and wrap his hand around Lynx's privates once again, and he let out a thankful moan. His whole body was on fire. His brain went mushy. He heard his own whimpers somewhat distantly, as if he was underwater. As soon as the grip grew tighter and the movement faster, the heat in his stomach churned, making his legs tremble before it all derailed.
The warmth overflowed. He buckled his hips into the touch and sunk his nails into Tiger's back. The orgasm reached his fingertips, coming in waves until he was empty and exhausted and barely conscious, gripping onto his creditor's shoulders and nuzzling into his cheek, because the only feeling coming clear through the haze was Lynx's all-consuming affection towards him.
Tiger smiled into his favorite cat's hair too. It finally stopped trying to escape him.