A/N: Oh gosh, alright let me allow for some explanation here. I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, depression being what it is and I apologize for that. That and what you're about to read. It's quite an embarrassing adventure into new territories I haven't visited in ages. Sort of a practice, I was saved in my files from awhile back, and although it's gross and petrifyingly embarrassing, I thought someone here may enjoy it. That being said, viewer discretion is advised and please enjoy !
He's soft, all too soft for something that was never made to be touched. But as you paw and thumb at his skin with a delicate touch, watching with curiosity and a strange sort of fascination; you can't quite believe such a thing. You suppose he was created how we was, indignantly adorable and soft, to appease children. And yet the way he purrs and squeaks when you stroke certain spots make him seem anything but.
His stomach is the softest; round and admittedly a bit chubby as you stroke at the squishiness with your thumb and feel the black like velvet against gentle hands. He sighs, and you can't help but grin a bit when you feel him finally relax underneath your trusted touch.
A bit wary at first, he had made you promise not to tease him when you first asked if you could look at him a bit. He had always been quite the fascinating being to you. Curiosity killed the cat, he reminded you with words without bite and yet tinged with nervousness that made him fidget. And that's just what you had been, curious. He was such a strange thing, but such a sweet one at that. With an accent that hadn't graced the world in ages and a voice that only a character like him could have. You couldn't help but wonder what brought on such a timid request, but you complied without hesitation. What was there to tease, really?
He almost purred when you first began to touch his face, leaning into the touch with lidded eyes. "Enjoying yourself?" He quipped with a lazy grin, voice low and quiet with sleepiness from such gentle movements. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and watched as he melted into your touch with closing eyes. Literally, it seems; in his case. Some type of movement you had to have made in subtle surprise makes him pull back, hand cradling his dripping cheek and watching your own hand coated in deep black ink with wide eyes. "Ooh no."
He looks almost afraid, and looks at you with pleading eyes and just like that his peppy confidence is gone. "I am so sorry, uhm, this happens sometimes. Are you, uh, are you alright?"
His voice is wavering and his features turn from mortified to confused and the least bit concerned when you grin. "I, uh-" He stutters with a shaky voice before clearing his throat and trying again, avoiding your curious gaze with a bashful hesitance against all of the attention. "I don't understand why this is happening." He laughs a nervous gasp and pulls back his hand now coated with the same substance and stares with an accusatory look. "It just felt really good and I, uh," He coughs and you can't help but try to get that same reaction out of him again. "I'm not used to being, um, touched." He's just too damn cute like this, all timid and shameful in a way that's so rarely shown, he was rarely so vulnerable.
You bring gentle, slow hands to his soft stomach again and he shivers. "I um, don't know if I can keep that from happening again." He warns, and you can already feel his skin softening under your touch.
"It's amazing." You hush and can swear you can hear him choke, so you intertwine your fingers with his, small pin-pricks of tiny claws so ironically unthreatening dig into your palm as you continue thumbing at the skin that turns into feverishly dripping ink once more to his apparent dismay. But he seems distracted from the embarrassment as he gasps and shivers, skin so unused to and sensitive to the touch.
He's fairly quiet at this point, panting and gasping as you touch him, but as you wander to his pointed tail that's flicking back and forth almost rhythmically, he groans and squirms in your arms. "Wow, that uhm, oh geez," He gasps as you trace up and down the thin appendage with a feather-light touch that has his hips wiggling and thighs rubbing themselves together at a frenzied pace.
But then you take the tip between your fingers and rub at it, and he groans so loudly that he covers his face with his free hand. "This is real embarrassing," He huffs and squirms but can't help but moan again. "But it just feels so nice."
He shudders, and meets your eyes for a second and bites at his lip with dangerously sharp canines. He groans once more and grins with a cocky satisfaction when you're rendered speechless and flushed as he guides both of his hands between his legs. His confidence his back, cockiness in full swing as he watches your bewitched reaction and gages such between pants and moans. "Do you-do you uh, like what you see?" He grins at you with devilish intentions as he takes your own hand in his, sticky with ink like hot tar.
Without another word and with an unwavering grin he spreads his legs that tremble and quake with a need you know he's inexperienced with. You can tell by the way he's trembling, trying to keep up an aura of confidence as if he has any idea of what the hell he's doing. "It-it's starting to hurt." Words pained as he rubs his thighs together again in impatience and in search for any sort of relief to the relentless burning and tension between his legs. "Help an ol' pal out?" Desperation laces his shaky words, and with an all too slow guidance, he takes your hand in between his legs that seem to almost melt with the sheer amount of inky blackness that drips out from between them.
He grinds against your hand, and yet it doesn't seem to bring him any relief as his eyes water. He must've been serious, and you can't stand to see the demon cry. So without hesitation or question to the sheer implications of what was taking place, you slip a finger into the less-than-solid ink and pump at a steady rhythm that has him almost sobbing with relief. "D-Damn, aaahh,"
You stroke his tail again with one hand, the other pumping in and out of the softness between his legs that drips relentlessly. "Does that feel any better?" He bites his lip and screws his eyes shut, a blissed out expression on his face as he nods and groans.
He tenses suddenly, back straight as he stops bouncing on your fingers and cries out. Ink drips down your arm and you pull out of the warm heat as he's collapsing back into your arms with puffing breaths. His skin sticks to you and drips into a puddle in your lap, and you couldn't care less.
"'M sorry for the mess."