Kitty: The Sequel Chapter 7
There were rug burns on my elbows and knees…harder, fuck, more…fingerprint bruises scattered over my hips…need it, please…air heavy with sounds of rutting, the scent of feral urges and seeping lust.
Blurry hours fill with toomuchnotenough sex; noises, grunts, mewls, moans, the symphony of all basic life.
Floods of satisfaction to mingle with sweat and an underlying current of guilt-guilt-guilt.
It was dark out by the time I was able to struggle out of that haze of pheromones and try to regain some sense. I was covered in sticky sweat and other, less pleasant, things. Ray was napping, plastered against my side, and I had no idea how the fuck we even got to his bed.
My ass burned and my left ear wouldn't stop twitching. I needed to get out of there, before Ray woke up and I lost all sense of right and need. My pants were gross and missing their top button, but I shimmied into them anyway, not bothering with trying to find my hoodie. Not really caring if I froze to death getting back to the apartment, I deserved much, much worse.
It was cold outside, heavy clouds covering up the half-moon, it would probably rain, or snow; maybe I should just go lie in front of a bus.
I got on one instead.
And what really fucking sucked, in all my self-deprecation and mantle of guilt, even freezing cold and shivering half-naked in the back of the bus…through all that, I was still hard as a goddamn rock and wanting to rub one off against the goth kid two seats ahead.
The metal bar gave a dull thunk as my forehead made contact with it.
The apartment was cold and empty and I could probably make some depressingly emo metaphor about how that's what I felt like on the inside; but mostly I just wanted to puke. Then maybe eat a couple gallons of Ben & Jerry's until I needed to retch again.
So I did, except without the ice cream, more headaches, and a raw throat.
And of course, of-fucking-course, Bob chooses to come back with me hunched over the toilet, shaking and sweating and too fucking gone to know how much time had passed.
"Mikey, baby, what's wrong?" his broad hand a soothing patch of bliss across my fevered back.
Why hadn't he called and told me he was going to be back tonight? Probably had, and I was just too busy dry heaving to hear the phone.
"B-Bob…" I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to.
"Baby, what is it?" His voice was too deep, hands too hot across my spine,
"It hurts," I looked up with pleading eyes, puffy with bitter tears, voice scratchy and catching, "it hurts s-so much."
Bob gathered my shivering, overheated form into his arms, wrapped me in his strong embrace. It felt so fucking right, but made the pain shoot up higher than I thought possible. Bob smelled so fucking good and familiar and I needed him like air.
"Mikey, Mikey, it's alright. Calm down, tell me what hurts." his hands rubbed against my skin and I was coming fast and dirty in my already-soiled jeans.
"Nng," it wasn't fucking fair, I was still hard and Bob was still there and I smelled like Ray and I was such a horrible fucking person. "I need you, Bob. Need, need-please-"
"Hey, hey," he rearranged us so that I was cradled in his lap, limbs too long but fitting like a puzzle against him. One hand braced the back of my neck, the other rubbing soothing circles on my stomach.
I whimpered, squeezing eyes tight shut, tail encircling Bob's wrist. He moved the hand down, settling under the hemline of my jeans, fingers brushing against my burning dick.
"Here?"
I nodded franticly, mewling in the most pathetic way and not caring, until his other hand was brushing through the hair at the base of my skull; leaning over to hum softly in my ear.
"Calm down, I've got you." Bob purred, working my pants off, "It's going to be fine Mikey, let me take care of you."
I moaned, more pained than pleasured, as he started up a steady rhythm; more tears squeezing out. My arms came up and clutched at the front of Bob's shirt, around his neck, through his fair hair; just trying to get a grip on reality and hopping that he wouldn't just disappear into thin air and leave me like I knew he should.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" my pleas were cut off by another orgasm that left things at once clearer and more muddled.
"Shh, baby, I got you." he was rubbing behind my ear, the tears fell harder, joined by sobs and more apologies that tasted of stomach acid and failure.
"I love you Bobby, I'm so fucking sorry. Love you so much." I pulled him closer, buried my face in his shoulder. I wasn't hard anymore, because Bob was here and he was all things magical and right in my life; everything I had screwed up because I didn't know how to keep it in my fucking pants.
"Hey, this isn't you fault." he whispered, voice firm with conviction and what could only be absolute truth, "I love you too Michael James Way, you know that, it's not going to change because you go a little stir crazy sometimes."
My head had cleared enough to form coherent thoughts other than overwhelming guilt and sorrow under a haze of lust and all things Bob.
"N-no, you're gonna hate me, but I'm sorry, I couldn't stop myself, I should have been able to, I c-couldn't…" Bob's hands did not still in their petting, and I was unable to look up from his shoulder.
"I could never hate you Mikey." but the kiss he pressed to my temple felt condemning, "Tell me what happened."
As much as I wanted to just cry myself further into exhaustion, I couldn't not tell Bob what had happened. Even though it felt like the words were stabbing me in the heart as they tumbled out my mouth in a jumble of sentences and pain. My fingers clutched harder to their purchase on Bob, unwilling to let go even as my mind said it was futile to think he would still want me after everything damned it.
"Mikey." his voice was deep, sharp and demanding; looked up.
"I-I'm s-so sorry-" he cut me off with a dark look,
"Mikey, you're going to put on some pants and then take me to Ray's place."
Oh, fuck. I really didn't want to do that, but to deny Bob anything would be folly.
"O-okay."
The entire bus ride was spent in stony silence and I shivered under the coat Bob had wrapped me in before leaving. I doubt it was from the cold.
It took a minute for Ray to open the door, but considerably less for Bob to punch him in the mouth,
"What the fu-" and again.
"Listen up fucker, you see this?" Bob grabbed me by the ear and yanked me forward, Ray's eyes widened slightly, and he nodded; one hand covering his bloodied mouth,
"You see this?" he shook me a little, ear still tight in his grasp, "This is mine, asshole. I don't give a flying fuck if your all cat and I'm not, you do not mess with my shit."
"Dude, he came to me."
I whimpered, and Bob growled.
"He may have got on that bus and come over here, but you, motherfucker, you took advantage of him when he was scared out of his damn mind. And you are seriously lucky I have the self-control to not fuck you up right here and now. If you ever, ever, even think about coming near him again, I will not be so nice."
Ray scoffed and spat a bloody glob at Bob's feet,
"He's not worth my time anyway."
Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, but Bob, Bob turned fiercer than I had ever seen him; even accounting the last five minutes. He dropped my ear and launched himself at Ray, burying his fist first in his nose, then every other available bit of flesh before him.
Ray tried to fight back, but it was useless in face of Bob's anger and he mostly just tried to curl up as Bob fucking schooled his ass in the entryway. I shrank back, ear burning, unable to categorize my thoughts and feelings into anything more than: Bob said I was his and the overwhelming rightness of it.
With one last, vicious kick, Bob stood and slammed the apartment door, turning to face me. He had a split lip and eyes that burned me down to the core,
"Let's go home." he started walking, and I stumbled to catch up.
"Y-yes, Bob."
He didn't look over, but tucked me under his arm all the same, and I felt a little better; like I might be able to go on.