With eyes closed, it's easier to let his sense of touch take the forefront, and even easier still to let his mind - sprawling, fast-paced thing that it is - remain slow and languid, sinking almost entirely into a feeling he didn't realise he'd been starving without. Seduction comes easily to him, being enticing enough to overwhelm is natural, but seeking out quiet and tender comfort like this? It isn't something strays can find, and it's never easy to know if you are truly safe in the midst of it even when you do find it... and the Cat isn't fool enough to think this is safe, because he knows Edwin is only doing this because he asked him to-- but he hadn't asked Edwin to hold him closer, to put a hand to his back as if to silently reassure him.
The brilliantly smart but still somehow completely clueless ghost boy somehow figures out exactly what he needs without him so much as hinting at it. The jumbled feelings between his heart and head settle in his throat, and he lets out a weak little chirp, though he isn't sure why. Longing? A desperate need for this to never end? A desperate need to make it stop before he fully memorises the feeling of hands holding him so softly, so that it's all the more torturous to remember it when it's gone?
That's when he raises his hands to Edwin's chest, snaking them between their bodies to tense, just once, the briefest pulse of pressure, in the fabric of Edwin's coat, before he pushes him away just as gently. But it is, undeniably, a push. A break. Before this indulgence gets any worse.
When the Cat opens his eyes they are wide and glassy, and he looks at Edwin with an entirely unguarded expression he hasn't let anyone see in a long time.
"... Thanks." His eyes flit away, dancing down the alleyway to look at nothing in particular as colour starts to warm his golden cheeks, and the purr continues in his chest.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-12-10 08:04 pm (UTC)The brilliantly smart but still somehow completely clueless ghost boy somehow figures out exactly what he needs without him so much as hinting at it. The jumbled feelings between his heart and head settle in his throat, and he lets out a weak little chirp, though he isn't sure why. Longing? A desperate need for this to never end? A desperate need to make it stop before he fully memorises the feeling of hands holding him so softly, so that it's all the more torturous to remember it when it's gone?
That's when he raises his hands to Edwin's chest, snaking them between their bodies to tense, just once, the briefest pulse of pressure, in the fabric of Edwin's coat, before he pushes him away just as gently. But it is, undeniably, a push. A break. Before this indulgence gets any worse.
When the Cat opens his eyes they are wide and glassy, and he looks at Edwin with an entirely unguarded expression he hasn't let anyone see in a long time.
"... Thanks." His eyes flit away, dancing down the alleyway to look at nothing in particular as colour starts to warm his golden cheeks, and the purr continues in his chest.