Author's Note: So this is my first (published) oneshot, and a contribution to UniqaChica's First Kiss Contest! I orginally wrote an Alonzo/Electra oneshot, trying to be orginal. However, the original thing clearly failed as there were two other submissions pairing the two. So, I fell back on my all time favorite pairing of Mistoria. I hope you enjoy, and be sure to read and review!
"And then Pounce pushed him off of the tire!" Jemima snickered, her back shaking with laughter.
"And into…" I prompted her.
"And into an old bucket of kitchen slop some humans dropped off!" We both collapsed into a fit of giggles.
Taking a breath, trying to calm herself, Jemima attempted to continue. "Tory, when Tumble's head popped back up-" she inhaled deeply again, trying to compose herself- "he had a rotten old bagel looped around his ear!"
That was it. We both totally lost control at the thought, and rolled onto our backs, giggling. My sister and I laughed in the late afternoon sun, completely and totally enjoying ourselves. When the moment had passed, we both sat back up, and resumed gossiping.
"So, Jem, for the ball, I-"
"Vic!" yelled Plato, kinda rudely interrupting our conversation. I sighed softly.
Ever since Old Deuteronomy had picked us to lead the mating dance, Plato hadn't left me alone. I really had nothing against him, but his constant requests to rehearse were becoming rather aggravating. I understood he didn't want to screw up in front of the entire tribe, but I needed some space too.
I smoothed my fur and rose gracefully to my feet. Trying to hide my exasperation, I smiled friendlily. "Yes, Plato? And I prefer if you did not call me that."
He grinned obnoxiously. "Whatever you say, princess. We have to rehearse."
I exhaled. "We practiced for an hour and a half yesterday. The balls not for another 2 weeks, we have plenty of time."
He looked irritated. "Come on, please?"
"Plato, I really don't wan-"
"Come on. You won't regret it."
Exhausted with fighting with him, I nodded and murmured I'd meet him in a minute. He smirked triumphantly, and yelled to meet him one clearing or another.
"I'll see you later, Jem," I told my sister.
"You really don't have to appease him, you know," she replied.
"I know, but if I practice today, he might let me out of it tomorrow."
"How can you stand it? He clearly irritates you to no end."
"I know, but I have to be polite."
She shrugged. "Well, it still stinks your stuck with him. Come find me when you're done, okay?"
I nodded, and waved goodbye.
The day was calm and warm, but the sun hid behind a wispy white cloud, leaving the entire area blanketed in a soft shade. Dragging my feet, I began to slowly make my way to the clearing Plato had mentioned. I truly dreaded practice, but I wasn't going to shirk on my responsibility.
Out of nowhere, an arm wrapped suddenly around my waist. A hot breath tickled my ear, and I heard "Presto!" whispered into it.
"Showoff!" I giggled, turning my head.
"You know you love it, Rory," replied the tuxedoed tom beside me. I playfully shoved him, and he reciprocated.
Mistoffelees was my best friend, and had been for as long as I could remember. Lately, however, I had been seeing him less frequently than usual.
"Where have you been?" I glared at him. "The balls in two weeks and I haven't seen you in three."
"Here, there," he casually retorted. "Pulling kittens out of hats, the whole nine yards."
I groaned. Though I was beyond glad to see him, his nonchalance was infuriating. And the whole fact he had been gone?
"You know, if you'd actually been here, you could have saved me from this hell of a dance they put me in."
"Which would be…?"
"The mating dance." His grin faded.
"Who with?" he asked, quiet this time.
"Plato."
"Are you going to the ball with him?"Misto inquired. His eyes seemed completely focused on the dusty path in front of us, and he refused to look up.
"Oh, no." I answered. I glanced at him.
"Why is he asking?" I thought to myself. Misto and I had always just been close friends, but I always thought that there might be something more there.
"Do you wish you were?"
"Oh, god no, Misto. He's completely irritating. Old Deuteronomy put us in the dance together, I had no say in it."
Mistoffelees seemed gladdened at my last remark and looked up. However, he remained silent.
We were almost at the mouth of the small clearing where Plato waited, so I stopped.
"I'll see you later, okay?" he said quietly. I nodded, and turned to enter the clearing. However, right before I entered, he called my name and I spun back around to face him.
"Yeah?" I questioned softly.
He hesitated, and looked as if he wanted to say something. "I'll-I'll just see you later, okay?" he repeated.
"Okay," I replied, and entered the clearing.
There sat Plato, seemingly anxious. At the sight of me, he rose to his feet. "Look who showed," he smirked.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm here. Are we going to practice or not?"
He shook his head "Yes" and hurried over to me.
"So, everybody does that leany-back thing-"
"It's a cambré," I cut in.
"Fine. A cambré. Then everyone clears out, and I walk over to you." He moved to stand behind me.
I nodded. "Then you grab my waist, and I plié, and you lift me." I paused as he did just that. However, when he lifted me up above his head, he held me much… lower than I had intended. I squirmed, uncomfortable, in mid-air. "Plato- no, stop that please. I'm really not comfortable with that."
Abruptly, he set me down. However, instead of being apologetic, his eyes were filled with frustration and resentment. Without any warning, he walked up to me, and pushed me up against an old washer on the edge of the clearing. There, with no warning whatsoever, his lips roughly pressed up against mine.
I squealed and fidgeted, trying to push him off of me. I couldn't breathe- he was far stronger than I, and his embrace practically suffocated me. The kiss itself was horrible- I felt nothing. There was no spark, no sweetness, just unabating pressure.
"Plato- no-stop!" I yelled, urgently trying to get him off. Desperate, I sunk my claws into his shoulder. He howled and pulled back.
He finally seemed to recognize what he had done. His eyes filled with horror- perhaps even self-loathing. "Victoria- I,I-" he stuttered. "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry… I really am-I-I should go." He quickly backed out of the clearing.
I sunk to the ground, tears streaming down my face. Sobs wrecked my body, and I curled up with my back against the washer and my knees against my chest. He hadn't physically hurt me, but I couldn't calm myself.
I sat alone for what seemed like hours. The tears slowed, but I still whimpered.
"Rory?" a voice questioned, interrupting the silence.
I looked up. Misto stood at the clearing's entrance, stunned. Quickly he ran over to me, looking wildly concerned. He slid down beside me, and wrapped his arms around me.
"Rory, what's wrong, what happened?" he asked worriedly. "Are you hurt, are you okay?"
"P-Plato," I stammered. "He pushed me against th-the washer, and he kissed me." I dissolved into sobs, and my head rested against Misto's chest. "He wouldn't let go."
Misto sat up, as if to rise to his feet. "I'll be back. Just hold on- I have to go find him." He was seething, incensed- I had never seen Misto so mad in my life.
"Wait, Misto, please- don't go. Not now." I was suddenly frantic. "Just don't leave me. I really need you right now." I whispered.
He sunk back down beside me. "I just can't believe he did that to you. That he hurt you. He needs to pay." He was clearly still riled.
"Misto, please," I say, trying to calm him. "I'm fine, I'm not hurt. He apologized, I think he really was sorry. I'm just really upset right now."
He stroked my back and rested his chin against the top of my head. "I'm here." He murmured. We sat that way for a while.
"He took my first kiss." I whispered. "I-I had never been kissed before. And I'll always have to remember that as my first."
Misto sat up a little, and taking my waist, gently turned me around. He looked deep into my eyes and slowly leaned forward. Our lips gently met.
Upon impact, sparks flew through my body and a shiver went down my spine. The kiss was everything Plato's hadn't been. Tender, sweet, loving, amorous, passionate. A million words could be applied to illustrate it, but none can fully describe the perfection of that kiss.
Slowly, Misto drew back. "That," he smiled, "Is your first kiss."