#sometimesloc

A human girl, with human parents waiting somewhere in the beach. Rafayel's been warned time and time again about them, and he's already cut it close with the girl before her. Yet, he doesn't leave, he stays.

“I'm Irie.” She introduces herself with a smile.

She doesn't falter at the sight of his tail, but she complains when he keeps winning their swimming races.

She's older than him.

She calls his hair pretty and compares it to the sea, “Like sunset waves.”

When she leaves, she says “See you tomorrow!” like she expects him to be there.

Against his better judgement, he comes back.

Irie does too. She gives him a few of her seashells, the ones she thought matched him best, shows him the rest. And when he asks for a specific pink one, she gives it to him with a smile.

They don't race this time, but she does keep him company as he waits for her.

When Irie asks, he reveals that he doesn't know her name, but she doesn't judge him for it.

“We'll ask her when she comes back."

She never does.

Days pass, weeks, months, a year.

Irie starts telling him when she'll be able to come and when not.

He lashes out when she goes away for too long without warning, she soothes.

Years pass. He doesn't realize when he stopped going to wait for her and started going to meet up with Irie, but it doesn't matter.

They're teenagers now.

It's their last sunset together.

They spend it like it's just another day, unknowning of what's to come.

“See you tomorrow!” She waves goodbye before walking away. He doesn't wave back, he never did, he only stared as she walked away.

Maybe he would've if he had known, but it's too late for those thoughts.

“Rafayel?” A familiar voice calls out.

A woman, with tanned skin and curls still reminiscent of a storm. Her eyes are still as blue as the sea he used to live in, and it still feels like they reach just as deep when they stare at him.

“Irie.” Her name leaves his lips in a whisper. Everything around her fades out of sight and memories overlap as she approaches with that same wide smile.

“Oh my god, it is you!” She pauses once he's within reach, “How have you been? It's been so long!”

He notes the restraint in her hands, how her fingers twitch like they always did when she keeps herself from reaching towards him and pulling him into a hug. She was always physically affectionate, always so doting with him. He pretends not to be affected by the distance as they catch up with each other.

He didn't expect to meet Irie in the same university she was, much less for her to be one of his students. He's even more surprised when he hears Irie's name come from her mouth.

Two of the most important women in his life, and they're friends.

His jobs are quick, infiltrate, shift, find the information he needs, shift some more, get the job done, and shift once again before blowing the whole place up.

No one ever recognizes him. How would they if he keeps changing appearance in the same way one would change clothes? Costumes, even.

But Sylus? He's the only one to consistently see through, no matter what mask he wears, what identity he uses, how much of himself he changes. Even when stripped bare, with nothing left to remind him of who he really is when he stretches himself thin with his evol usage, Sylus is the one that sees.

That is as soothing as it is terrifying.

Being soothed by something or someone means getting attached. A clear, staining weakness in Kaden's way of life. You see, he doesn't allow himself attachments, not when he's supposed to be as fickle as a butterfly, social and changing but not everlasting. A background, a backdrop, something you'll forget in a month or less. That is what Kaden strives for, to be forgotten each time he leaves and fakes a death. And you can't be easily forgotten if there's people clinging to your memory.

It's already hard enough that he danced himself into a spotlight that will continue shining down on him even after he “dies,” because fame, as he already knew and now gets to experience first hand, comes with it's many downsides.

(He thinks it a shame that he'll have to drop this appearance in 20 years time, once he fakes his death and breaks the public's hearts. It was his favorite so far and he barely got to enjoy it. Oh well, it’s not like he can't use it again once enough decades have passed.)

Add onto it that a man like Sylus exists, one with connections and power as big– if not bigger– as his, someone who can also heal from the most lethal wounds, and it becomes near impossible to find a new place to start.

So yeah, Kaden is frustrated.

He feels cornered, like he's in a room that keeps getting smaller and smaller, forcing him to adapt, to strategize faster, endlessly with no chance to rest.

He's got an unwanted tail that he can't cut, an anchor that will never be lifted, someone who will know him no matter what.

He fears the part of himself that is relieved to find someone who might be just as lonely as he is.

He's seen– and heard– Xavier sass people into the sun. He's seen him whoop ass without breaking a sweat– has gotten his own ass handed back to him during many sparring sessions. He knows Xavier isn't an innocent baby, that he's a fully grown man who seems to carry more than just the world on his shoulders.

Still, he forgets.

When Xavier smiles at him or laughs at his jokes. When he's playfull and does silly things, like funny voices or imitating noises. When he's quiet, reading a book or tending to his plants. When he kisses him, oh, so gently. When he whispers about the stars and the constellations while they cuddle. When he talks to Tichi like it's just another person with him.

Ilkay forgets that Xavier comes with many hidden sides…

Until Xavier decides to remind him.

A teasing remark that has Ilkay hesitating for a second or two because it sounds like an innuendo and Xavier just said it with the casualty of someone talking about the weather. (He has lost counts of how many times he held back from saying “Hello??” like someone who swore they heard a voice but fear they might be crazy. Or the times where he choked on his drink, or broke into shocked laughter because it was just so sudden.)

Moments where Xavier was bold and had him turned into a flustered mess because he wasn't expecting that at all while he was pushing his buttons. The hardest to come back from, in his opinion, because he'll remember them during odd hours and he'll have to fan himself to try and calm down.

The most recent example he could think of is happening right now:

He's under Xavier, wrists pinned above his head, and he thinks he shouldn't be as turned on as he is right now.

Xavier has been nothing but gentle with how he handles Ilkay, patient with his feelings, with how their relationship progresses, the steps they take.

This is the first instance where he isn't, not because he's being forceful– although Ilkay wouldn't mind if Xavier picked the reigns and decided to be a little bit more assertive from time to time– but because they were playing. Harmless teasing and tussling as they played video games.

Ilkay had taken it too far when he decided to hinder Xavier, and now he's being immobilized against the couch while the videogame carried on like nothing.

He should fight, get Xavier off of him, but he doesn't want to. Xavier looks good while towering over him, his blue sky eyes now look like the deepest parts of the sea, and he can't help but be enchanted by it– by him.

They stay like that for a while, long enough that both of them die in the game, long enough that Xavier softens a little as he looks into Ilkay's eyes.

“I thought your eyes were blue.” Xavier whispers, a hand caressing his cheek. It takes a few seconds for his brain to reconnect and understand what he's talking about.

He moves his head so minutely that it couldn't even be considered a shake, “They're grey, they look blue depending on the light and the angle."

And then Xavier looks at his lips when he licks them, and the distance becomes smaller. He forgets that his face feels prickly, warm– warmer than it should be– forgets about the game, about his cat, about where he is and what led them there. He zeroes in on Xavier's lips. When he closes his eyes because Xavier’s lips are literally a breath away, Xavier pulls back and lets go.

Ilkay opens his eyes to find Xavier grinning at him.

The creature was the first to break the silence, its voice deep and low as it spoke, “You must be Xavier.”

Xavier frowned, “How do you know my name?”

“How do you know the stars?” The creature countered, ears atop it's head relaxing slightly as he went back to pruning the bush. The intensity of its grey colored stare left Xavier, but its ears twitched in his direction.

Somehow, Xavier understood what he meant.

They stayed in stilled silence, broken only by the click of the shears as the hybrid-creature continued taking care of the garden.

White hair with grey strands, matching fluffy cat ears perched atop his head and a fluffy tail on his back. If Xavier didn't know any better, he would think him an evolver. But he did know better.

“What are you?”

The hybrid paused, hummed, “Many things,” he picked up a basket, one that previously held the wilted flowers he had cut off. Now, in its stead, were gems of various colors, “A child of the moon in some cultures, a hybrid in others, some even call me the cat in the moon.”

“So, a god?”

He shrugged, “I get called that too, yes. You, however, may call me Ilkay.” He added, signaling Xavier to follow him as he walked through the garden, “Come, I have just the thing to help you with your ship.”

“Where am I?”

“The Moon, Earth’s moon.” the creature tilted his head towards somewhere behind him, and Xavier, against his usual training, turned to see. The Earth greeted him in its full glory, so similar to his home planet yet so different, “You're a few galaxies away from home, wanderers don’t come this way.”

A place without wanderers, was that even truly possible?

“You’ll see for yourself later.” Ilkay answered, a small smile on his face.

When Xavier turned back around, Ilkay was holding a few components he didn't recognize, “These will help.”

Ilkay guided him out of the castle in silence.

Only Xavier's footsteps echoed as they walked through the halls, and no matter how much he focused on the other man's footsteps, he never caught them. Not even when it was his turn to guide Ilkay towards the ship, walking through grey sands and rocks.

“Are you sure it will work?” Jeremiah leaned towards Xavier, whispers still caught by Ilkay's ears as he worked.

Ilkay wasn't offended at the crews reaction. The distrust, the subtle and not so subtle wariness. Living a long life didn't mean your sense of danger was dulled.

“If he's sure, then so am I.”

Such a concerning thing for a Captain to say. One that was usually so guarded and careful with what he said and who he said it to, suddenly trusting someone so openly.

Ilkay didn't wave goodbye as they departed.

Jeremiah didn't question it any further, words held back in his tongue and later swallowed in silence as the components proved to be of help.

Everything would seem like nothing more than a dream for a few, while others wouldn't even remember meeting him.

He didn't watch them depart either, simply took in their thanks, accepting no physical gifts as he went back.

He never looked back, but he could feel Xavier's stare.

And that, for him, had been enough.

taglist: @blessdunrest

He feels out of sorts as he pushes a finger in. He's never felt this pent up before, not even when he was a teenager. He guesses this is what happens when you get a crush and your fantasies finally have a face to be centered around.

He whimpers and bites at the fingers on his free hand, forcing the name on his tongue back down his throat. It doesn't stop the images. He makes the mistake of closing his eyes as he fucks himself with his fingers and they become much clearer.

How that beautiful shade of blue would look when stained with lust and desire.

When he employs his free hand to stoke his cock, he bites into the pillow instead, hellbent on muffling his sounds.

Pink lips curling around his name, kissing his skin, leaving marks, wrapping around him.

The pang of desire hits so harshly that it pulls a groan from deep within his chest.

He imagines hands roaming his body, how the callouses would feel against his skin, how his fingers would feel inside as they curled.

He curls up on his side, curls the fingers inside and gasps as he pressed on his prostate while stroking his cock faster. He whines with his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down as he fucked his fist and tried to imagine someone else's hand.

It feels good. He feels desperate. He wants more.

He comes with a curse and a name echoing in his head like a mantra.

He keeps going, prolonging his orgasm as much as he can while imagining a warm body over his, the same blue eyes watching.

His movements start to slow down when overstimulation hits, and he opens his eyes to stare off into the ceiling as he comes down from the high.

He crashes back down hard.

An empty bed. A cold night. A silent room. Not the company he wishes he had.

He grimaces as he looks down at the mess he's made of himself and struggles to swallow as he sits up.

Longing dulls the desire he felt, changing pleasure for loneliness as he cleans up and gets changed.

He falls asleep with a plushie in his arms, desperate to find some comfort and warmth.