Disclaimer: I do not own Cats or any of its characters.


Alone

Theme: Kitten

The red queen-kitten tasted of spices. The flavor of her captured his senses, demanding his attention and drawing him in. There was something daring about her, a sense of risk—as if more than the smallest taste would leave him with a permanent, burning sensation.

"Bombalurina, was it?" he asked smoothly, and she gave him a saucy smile in return.

"It is," she answered, her voice as seductive as the taste of her mind. They were still kittens, not yet old enough to truly act upon or even understand the desires they were beginning to feel, but this scarlet almost-queen was already popular amongst the toms.

"And you are…?" Bomba was asking, examining her claws as if disinterested.

Coricopat knew better. If he concentrated, he could get past the exterior of this queen, beneath the spices and their wonderful aroma, to sense something more subtle. There was a handsome tom talking to her, and yes, she'd had plenty of toms fighting for her attention before, but Coricopat was just so dark and mysterious, and she'd heard from Cassandra that he was a real charmer too, and oh she was hoping he would turn some of that charm on for her…

He fought the urge to smirk. She'd been given attention from older toms, even the ones who had already become adults, and yet she was all excited over him, a kitten still for two more years. Sometimes, these gifts of him came in handy—always able to tell what a cat was thinking of him, he'd risen to popularity quickly in the Junkyard.

"My name is Coricopat," he answered, smiling at her and enjoying the brief flare of excitement that arose in her at the sight. "I was wondering if you would take a walk around the Junkyard with me?"

He let himself revel in her delight as they strolled along, talking and simply enjoying each other's company. A few times, there were brief stutters in the conversation, awkward pauses where neither knew quite what to do. Bombalurina knew what was supposed to happen—much to the disapproval of the Junkyard elders, she had gone out several times with older toms, experienced toms, and they'd shown her how it was done. She could imagine him putting his paws on her waist, his lips covering hers, the two of them entwined together…But, frustratingly, maddeningly, he wasn't doing anything.

And he's supposed to be such a great tom… Coricopat stiffened slightly as he felt her disappointment, and braced himself. As soon as another pause came, he turned to her, smiling as convincingly as he could, and kissed her.

At once, her mind rushed into his, filling him with the bitter taste of petty jealousies, arguments long past, all those shallow desires that she was feeling for him. And it made him feel sick. Just once, he longed to feel another mind like his, another to understand what he went through.

Never in his life had he felt as alone as he did now, kissing the most beautiful queen in the Junkyard.


The tom was all spices and no substance. His flavor overwhelmed her senses, making her gasp and choke on the musky scent. The taste of him filled her mouth, her nose, made her eyes water with its intensity, and she shook her head to clear it. She just wanted to get away from him, make him leave her alone…

"Come on, baby, just tell me your name," he was saying to her, leering in a way that made her want to claw that smile off of his face.

"My name is none of your concern," she said simply, trying to muster up all the dignity she could without revealing the disgust she felt. She could tell from his thoughts that he knew she was still a kitten, but he didn't mind—worse, it seemed to excite him. Tantomile suppressed a shudder and squeezed her eyes shut as his taste overcame her again, along with a bitter nausea that was entirely her own.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart," the tom said, his hot breath right in her face, and she opened her eyes to find that he was just inches away. Repulsed, she sprang backwards, unable to control the fierce hiss that escaped her. The tom laughed, as did the queens gathered around him. Tantomile was the only kitten there—and she wouldn't be there at all, if only she could find another place to live. Being an orphaned queen-kitten was hard sometimes, and as much as she hated this little band of cats, it was too dangerous to be alone out on the streets. Even for her.

"Her name is Tantomile," one of the queens provided, desperate for the tom's attention. Tantomile curled a lip back at that; the others found this tom irresistibly handsome and charming.

She searched deeper in his mind, pushing back the wave of sickness that hit her as she read his thoughts about her, and smiled grimly in satisfaction when she found the mind beneath the spice. Plain and boring, just as she'd suspected. His "charm" was all an illusion.

"Tantomile, hmm?" the tom said now, his eyes raking over the queen-kitten with obvious desire. Tantomile hissed again, her fur standing on end. She wished she had more control over her abilities—then she could push images into his brain that would leave him trembling. But she couldn't. She couldn't even block out his disgusting thoughts.

"Well, Tantomile, how about I show you a good time?"

Before she could even blink, let alone act, the tom had lunged forward, covering her mouth with his. As overwhelming as his taste and mind had been before, it was nothing compared to this. She struggled, clawing at his shoulders, but to no avail. The queens were laughing at her predicament, their vapid little minds buzzing with scandal. She'd never felt so alone, wishing for her parents, for a friend, for someone like her.


Two minds, vulnerable and open, stretched out across the city, searching, searching…

Two cats stiffened in unison, breaking away from their respective partners. Two minds touched, thoughts echoing each other in surprise, Who are you…

Not alone.


A/N: Second one! So, I think Tantomile and Coricopat in this are about the age of Electra and Etcetera in the film. This is before Tantomile came to the Junkyard...in my mind, she was living alone on the streets in whatever shelter she could find. Coricopat was there already, of course.