#crowking

Monty loves it when the Cat King purrs.

For all that he’s spent most of his life as a bird and should be vaguely threatened by anything feline, this has become one of his favorite sounds. It’s a sign that his lover is relaxed and happy, and after all they’ve been through, he never takes that for granted.

They’re sprawled out on Thomas’ bed, Monty half-propped up against the headboard with a book he’s very much not paying attention to at the moment. The Cat King’s upper body is sprawled out over his legs, and one of Monty’s hands is drifting slowly over his back and shoulders, an absent touch. A soft smile curves his lips when his fingertips brush over what seems to be a preferred spot, and that purr intensifies.

Thomas glances up at him, smirking. “What’s that sappy look for?”

Monty wakes up shaking and sweating, terrified down to his core. Esther is gone, dragged off by Lilith to literally only the goddess knows where, but he still dreams of her sometimes. He has nightmares of being ripped apart, forced into a new shape, not once but twice.

Months might have passed, but the fear still haunts him some nights. It drags cold fingers down his bones, makes them ache with memory. It crawls inside of him until he wants to split his lungs with screaming. He knows the dreams will pass, given time, but right now…

He glances to the side, to the Cat King sprawled out over the bed, still asleep. Swallowing, he tries not to disturb the other as he untangles himself from the sheets and gets to his feet, padding towards the door.

A rush of violet flame and magic, and suddenly the Cat King is in front of him, blocking the doorframe. He’s sleep-rumpled, as disheveled as he ever gets, but his golden eyes are sharp as they fix on Monty. “And where do you think you’re going?”

The crow stops, tense and poised to flee. The Cat King just keeps that level gaze pinned on him, clearly refusing to move. Finally he slumps, giving a helpless shrug. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” The man’s voice is deceptively gentle as he moves towards Monty, closing distance between them. Never one for personal space, he tips the bird’s chin up, raises brows as he studies his face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Monty sighs. They’re not the best at talking, not about sharing feelings or opening up or anything like that. Despite that, he feels like if anyone can understand, it’s probably Thomas. He knew Esther almost better than anyone, knew what it was like to have the witch’s rage turned on him. They’ve never talked about it, but Monty knows how the Cat King lost his last life.

So he can be honest. He sits down heavily on the edge of the bed again, staring at the ground. “I keep dreaming about her,” he finally admits, knowing there’s not much need to specify what her he means. “The way she pulled me apart, piece by piece. The way she gave me this - this body,” he says, splaying his hands out in front of them, frowning at them. “Then took it away the second I failed her.”

He hears a low sound, glances up to see Thomas holding back a snarl. There’s a light of anger in his eyes that’s exceptionally rare, not something he shows, ever. He’s playful or taunting or vaguely threatening by turns, but he never shows actual rage. And Monty knows it’s not all about him, that it’s about Edwin and the Cat King’s own history with Esther, but it’s still gratifying to see.

“I’d claw her to shreds if she were still alive,” he hisses, shaking his head as he lets the moment of anger go, flow out of him. “Stupid fucking witch.” A huffed sigh, and then the Cat King has slid so easily back into his usual self, shaking off that flare of emotion.

Monty wishes he could do that.

The other man slides into the bed again, but stays sitting up, back propped against the headboard. “C’mere.” He pats his lap, and waits expectantly until Monty crawls across the mattress and settles against him, head propped up on his thighs, one arm curled around his legs.

A warm hand slips into his hair, strokes through the dark strands. Monty can’t ignore the urge to relax under the touch, eyelids falling shut, breathing slowly steadying. Thomas doesn’t stop until he hear’s the crow’s pulse slow, and even then, he keeps touching him, gently tracing his cheekbone, his mouth.

“Tell me next time,” he says finally, knowing Monty is halfway to falling back asleep. “Nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of.” He smiles, and there’s something soft beneath the flirty expression. “Besides, I’ve got better ways to get you back to sleep.”

He’s nervous.

He has absolutely no reason to be, of course. This isn’t exactly something dangerous or world-shatteringly important. Still, it’s the first time he’s trying something like this, so… yeah, Monty’s nervous. It’s an excited sort of nervousness though, the kind that thrills rather than dissuades.

Usually, the crow is happy to let the Cat King take the lead when it comes to sex; it’s not just that the other is way, way more experienced, but it’s also that little predator-prey dance between the two of them, something that lends sparks to every interaction even when they’re not playing directly into it. Even when things are sweet, sensual, Monty always finds that his heart beats faster at even the tiniest show of control or possessiveness from his lover. Nothing about that has changed - he still loves that delicate edge of danger. Still, he’s always one to seek out new experiences.

And ever since he saw Edwin and Thomas together a few weeks ago, he’s been fixated on this particular experience.

He’s well aware that the Cat King is very flexible in regard to what he does with this lovers. Knowing that is one thing, though; seeing him actually getting his brains railed out by the usually uptight ghost was entirely another. It had been something of a revelation, showing quite how much Thomas actually enjoyed the opportunity to have the tables turned. And, really, how much he enjoyed getting fucked.

Monty is very much hoping to see more of that enjoyment tonight.

Edwin is temporarily distracting the shapeshifter - Monty has talked to him about this, despite the ghost’s lingering awkwardness when discussing such matters. He was certainly full of helpful advice, though, and his temporarily getting Thomas out of the cannery is invaluable.

Because of course, if Monty’s going to do this, he’s not going to half-ass it. Oh, no; he always dives in headfirst.

So of course, Thomas notices the second he steps back through the mirror, raises a brow and flashes an amused smirk at the sight of the bed laid out with not only the usual pile of plush blankets and pillows, but a length of familiar silk rope, and his lover sitting on the edge of the mattress, eyes already dark with want the second he catches sight of him. “What’s all this, little bird?”

And yeah, Monty’s nervous, but he still can’t help but grin as he rises to his feet and crosses to the Cat King. “You’ll see,” he murmurs teasingly in his ear before he kisses him, tugs him back toward the bed.

It takes no time at all to shed clothing and get the other sprawled out on his back across the mattress, Monty straddling his hips. He reaches for the rope, and Thomas chuckles, eyes dancing. “Feeling a little frisky today, huh?” The crow doesn’t answer, just ducks his head to hide another grin as he focuses on the knots Edwin taught him. A simple tie, loops binding the other’s wrists with a bit of slack between them, another, firmer knot anchoring to a ring conveniently set into the headboard for this exact purpose. Thomas’ interest and arousal are as obvious as his amusement, and Monty happily drinks them in. There wouldn’t be any point if the other weren’t enjoying it, after all!

He slides down the Cat King’s body, taking his time, lips meandering over soft golden skin, licking or nipping at those spots he knows to be sensitive. Thomas’ purrs and low groans of pleasure are reward enough, and it’s oddly enthralling to be able to tease as long as he likes without being pulled back up into a kiss, or tumbled onto his back to get the same treatment in return. They both know the other could get out of the ropes in an instant if he needed to, there’s nothing magical about them that could hold the Cat King if he truly didn’t wish to be bound. But he doesn’t make any real effort to escape, though he tugs at the bonds occasionally, more for the sensation than anything else.

Monty finally situates himself between the other’s legs, faced with his obviously hard and very interested cock. It’s impossible to ignore it, for him anyway - he licks a hot line along the shaft even as he reaches for the bottle of lube he’d shoved under a fold of the blankets, the better to keep his plan a surprise for his lover. Thomas’ pleased little intake of breath makes him grin, and he doesn’t hesitate a moment before wrapping his lips around that familiar length.

He’s sucked him off what has to be hundreds of times now (he might be exaggerating, but only a little) - he knows what the Cat King responds to, what he likes. Has learned to be very adept at giving him just that, practice making perfect, as it were. Which means it’s remarkably easy for him to focus on driving the other to a state where he’s panting, low sounds coming more frequently now. Monty can feel the slight tension in his muscles that indicates he’s close, and he knows he could push him over the edge just as easily.

Instead he pulls back, licking his lips.

Thomas lets out a breathless laugh. “Wicked little tease.”

“Nope,” Monty retorts with a flash of a grin. “I just have more plans for you tonight.” He lifts the bottle of lube enough for the other to see it, and watches the Cat King’s eyes go wide with surprise for a moment - then fill with a mingling of heat and affection, lust and adoration. It’s all the endorsement the crow needs to keep going.

He knows that, lacking experience, he might be a bit clumsy with this part, so he turns his attention back to sucking Thomas’ cock, just enough to keep him on edge as he pops the lube open and coats his fingers. He drags one fingertip down, gently spreading the slick fluid over Thomas’ rim, and hears an appreciative murmur at the touch. Slowly, he presses one finger in, and the approving groan is more than enough encouragement.

It’s a little unfamiliar, but it’s equally fascinating to be on this side, he finds as he works Thomas open, his mouth still moving lazily along the length of his dick. It certainly seems to be a pleasure for his lover, judging by the sounds he’s making, the way he shifts and pushes back against Monty’s hand. By the time he’s got three fingers buried in him, the Cat King is clearly riding the edge of orgasm again, pulse racing and breathing fast.

Monty could make him come like this.

Or…

For the second time, he pulls back, and hears his lover curse, though it’s mingled with laughter again. “I’m sorry, are you planning to fuck me, or drive me crazy?” His voice is low and teasing, and Monty can’t help but laugh in response. He curls the fingers still pressed into the other just enough to brush against his prostate, watches his head tilt back against the pillows as a guttural moan escapes his lips.

“Maybe both,” he admits, slowly drawing his fingers out. Thomas curses again, but there’s an admiring smile on his lips, a hint of something like pride in his eyes.

The crow takes his time slicking more lube over his own cock, letting Thomas come down just a little. He’s not exactly the most patient bird in the sky, though, so it’s not long before he’s positioning himself between the other’s legs, not hesitating a moment. He doesn’t plunge in with reckless abandon, but he’s not delicate about it, either; Thomas isn’t either innocent or breakable. So Monty thrusts into him slowly, but steadily, feeling his own breath catch in his throat as tight heat engulfs him.

And… yeah, fuck, but that’s incredible, and clearly something he is going to need to experience again… and again.

Whatever bit of teasing restraint was driving him earlier, it’s gone now, washed away by a torrent of new sensations, pleasures that Monty can’t help but chase. He fucks mindlessly into his lover, no longer caring about dragging it out, just needing more. Thomas laughs and groans, hitching one leg up to wrap around Monty’s waist, to drag him in closer. He’s already close to the edge, so there’s certainly no reason for him to hold back.

The crow lasts longer than he thought he would in those first blissful seconds, manages to hold back his own pleasure until Thomas comes, his whole body arching off the bed. The tight clench of delicate inner muscles around his cock has Monty’s orgasm hitting him with the subtlety and force of a freight train, though, and he lets out a gasping moan, burying himself as deep in his lover as he can manage. He’s pretty sure he’s seeing stars again, a silly euphemism he only uses when the sex is damn good.

Which… is most of the time, actually.

Still.

Panting, he slumps against the Cat King’s chest, just needing to catch his breath for the moment. He senses rather than sees the slight flicker of the other’s magic to vanish the ropes binding him, then warm arms wrap around his waist. Monty smiles, then raises his head just enough to look at his lover. “Hope that was… okay.” He did sort of lose his head there a little at the end, but Thomas definitely doesn’t look like he has any complaints.

And indeed, he just chuckles again, fingers carding through the crow’s hair. “Better than okay. You might just need a bit more practice, and really, I’m happy to help any time…” The words are mischievous and teasing, and Monty laughs, nuzzling back against his chest.