worldbent | GOLDEN PEACOCK: INBOX+OVERFLOW

Is that so.

[When Rokurou looks back, Matoba is watching him. His face isn't smiling, nor is it serious. Instead, there's a lucid watchfulness- as though he is looking through Rokurou to something much deeper than the weak grin he wears which barely covers anything.]

[Not half as elegant a lie as even the paper-thin mask he is accustomed to looking through. Another poor liar.]

[It's practically child's play to prod through that one when he already knows all the holes, but he's had to take a lot of time to learn the weak points in Rokurou's armor. Even with the gaping one the resort had given him from the start, there was more yet to uncover. This time, it's Rokurou himself who hands it to him. But this far in, he doesn't strip it away to toy with prey like a cat. He has a different aim, now, which he has only half-acknowledged to himself.]

[He cocks his head as Rokurou goes on blithely lying- blinking, and considering him more openly. He ignores the man's answer to his question, largely irrelevant and mostly a way to keep him talking, and the rest of the deflection, to instead aim truer.] Heeeh............. [A small smile, unreadably playful. It is not.] Do you think that would make me happy?

I think that box of penis cakes makes you happy.

[ As for a large banquet filled with colleagues and clan members? He’s less certain. Matoba hadn’t seemed especially nostalgic when mentioning it earlier. But he won’t even try to guess, having made so many incorrect judgements about the exorcist in the past. ]

As for banquets and grand affairs, I don’t know. What would you want to do for your birthday, if you had a choice?

[ Funny, how the similarities in their familial structure give him a special kind of bird’s eye view. When it comes to the head of a clan, even one such as Rokurou’s, attending to overwrought affairs is an obligation of the seat. His mother had, and his brother had. Neither had enjoyed it.

He continues to keep his hands busy, primly tucking the folded clothes into their place in the dresser drawer. ]

[At last, a small smile- a real one- breaks forth on Matoba's face. His eye softens, imperceptibly.]

Well, you're not wrong about that.

[Even if he doesn't think Rokurou understands why. That's fine. He doesn't vie for it. It's easier, always, if they don't.]

[He glances down at the box, finishing tucking the edges into each other to keep it shut, and leaves it to another day. (That's a lie. He'll be busting that thing open again by tonight.)]

How I'd choose to spend my birthday, huh............... [He hums a long, quiet sigh out as he thinks on it, strolling over to sit on the edge of the bed. No matter how he thinks about it, he can't consider it any different from usual: to do whatever he can manage to do, from the position he's in.] Of course, I'm going to eat all the sweets I like, but that isn't much different from usual, is it?

[Because every day that he survives is a miracle. It's as much of an answer that someone in his position can give. And as always, there are too many desires he can't voice.]

[ That smile makes the daemon’s chest feel—stuffy. He glances away, ignoring the strange way his heart sputters like an engine trying to start. Turns out that even Matoba can be cute sometimes, huh. ]

It isn’t. [ satisfied with the clothes neatly put away, Rokurou sits beside Matoba on the bed, leaning back on his hands and rolling his neck, ] But if that’s what you want to do, you should do it.

[ Rokurou shrugs, turning his head to lazily look at the man beside him. While consuming sweets at the rate he’s going will end up with Matoba fat and diabetic, who is he to judge? A daemon like him can’t judge anyone. ]

Alright. Let’s say you spend four hours eating sweets. What do you want to do with the remaining twenty? It’s a whole day.

[Rokurou comes to sit next to him, and Matoba turns to look. The man has a strange look on his face as he catches the glance away. Disgust with his sweets again, Matoba presumes, oblivious to the way his smile might make the man feel.]

Hmmmh............. Well, one of those hours is with the bow, [Matoba drawls easily, thinking of his typical day on autopilot.] And no matter what day it is, I have to at least glance over what job requests we have received, to root out the ones we can do and the ones we will not.

[Work that only the head can do, responsibilities he can't just put aside.... The more he thinks on those hours, the more he thinks of another responsibility that he can't just set aside, but he's sure a rogue like Rokurou, who has made his feelings about responsibilities to his family clear, doesn't want to hear that.]

[The truth is, he does not know what else he might do with himself besides the things he knows how to do. He doesn't think about what else he might do, because there has never been any reason to do so.]

...Perhaps I would take a walk about town, [He tries after a few moments of quiet, struggling to find an answer,] Go to a ramen stall, see what is in the claw machines at the arcade, and greet the kitty-cats.

[Simple pleasures, things he can do without putting too much of himself into them. But, still, these answers feel somewhat hollow. He's coming to realize that he doesn't much feel that a day spent like this would be very fulfilling, even shirking his usual workload.]

[Perhaps there's simply nothing special or useful about time wasted, alone.]

Edited (don't look at me I saw a typo) 2024-12-10 23:34 (UTC)

[ Rokurou is quiet while Matoba muses over how he would spend his birthday. There are questions, mostly around how the exorcist plans his day around work when there is no work to be had here, but Matoba isn’t thinking about his impeding birthday at all. Even now, a year in to being stuck in this hole, he’s thinking about rote and routine while acting as head of his clan. As if a wide open birthday isn’t days away.

Ugh. Unfortunately, he doesn’t dislike that kind of commitment and sense of responsibility. Not that he’ll admit it. Instead, the daemon hums. ]

Okay. We’ll train in the morning and then go for a walk around the resort to see what’s going on. Red Cardinal makes a pretty good ramen so that can be lunch. Then we can go to the arcade and… [ he stalls here before sighing in defeat, ] … find some cats afterward.

[ All in all, that sounds like a good day, cats aside. Of course this guy would be a cat fanatic… are all exorcists obsessed with felines? ]

But if any of them piss on me, we’re leaving.

[Perhaps no orthodox 'work', but Matoba very much considers his investigations into the various mysteries of the resort to be a part of his work, his duties, as Matoba. After all, escape and returning back to his clan was all a part of it, too.]

[That is what occupies the majority of his time in the resort. What time isn't spent "socializing"- as, after all, making and keeping connections is also a part of his duties as the head- or in the small, personal time he takes to eat and enjoy the dalliances that he allows himself. But they are few.]

[It isn't that Matoba lacks things he enjoys, but that he has never had the freedom or opportunity to think about goals for himself that don't tie back to his position.]

[He blinks up owlishly, then, as Rokurou goes on and plans a day for... them. Normally, he might make a prodding comment about the man inviting himself along. But moreso, he is surprised that he does so willingly.]

"We" can train? [He settles on instead, amusement tinging instead of sarcasm.] Do you even know how to draw a bowstring?

What do you take me for? I may be a swordsman, but I have familiarity with most weapons. [ he opens his eyes and looks back at the other man, eyebrow hiked in vague amusement. ] No doubt you can out-shoot me but I can hit a target or two. Or you can shoot and I’ll strike them down with a sword. That’s training too.

[ He seems eager, even. Even after a year of having all of the pleasures man can enjoy shoved in his face, Rokurou still enjoys training and working out the most. Especially when it’s with someone strong; he knows first hand that Matoba is skilled. ]

What about the evening, though? Cats would be sometime in the afternoon. How do you want to spend your birthday night?

Hohh...? [Matoba's eyebrow lifts, but he seems skeptical.] ...In that case, I will have to put you through the paces to test your ability.

[Now that sounds like fun.]

[Thinking about entertainments comes far less easy to him. Ah, but perhaps for two exorcists, killing would naturally come more easily. Matoba tilts his head back slightly in thought. Monsters still roam the halls of the resort, the plague that moon has set upon the resort still a threat. Now there's an idea.]

Night is when the ayakashi roam. Isn't that plenty to keep us busy?

H’oh.

[ Correction: an exorcist and a daemon. Don’t lump him in with you smelly exorcists. Rokurou smiles, once again amused by this man. The clear opportunity to have a completely normal birthday isn’t taken when it’s right there; growing up in environments like theirs really does breed a certain type. ]

Training in the morning, food in the afternoon, and bloodshed at night? We do have similar tastes after all.

[ He reaches a greedy claw over to curl a lock of Matoba’s silky hair around his finger. An idle gesture where he rubs it between his thumb and index finger, enjoying the slide against his skin. ]

I’m looking forward to it.

[Never............... He knows the truth about you, Rokurou Rangetsu....]

[Anyway, what even is normal?? Seiji is aware of such things; it isn't as if he hadn't watched classmates in school have normal birthdays with normal birthday parties, with friends and games and great fun. That was the sort of life that the powerless should lead. And he was different. He had power, and responsibility to that power. A responsibility to solitude.]

[It makes these interactions strange. Here he is, sleeping in this man's bed and eating the meals made for him, treating him at times as more of a servant or a keeper than anything. Stained by malice and by his own admission no longer a candidate to inherit his bloodline, Rokurou could be nothing else to him. But then, these strange softnesses come between them. They can enjoy them, in their own way.]

[They've made a good plan between them, simple as it is, so the few days that pass until Matoba's actual birthday arrives require no further planning. And yet, in the late hours where All Hallow's Eve passes into his birthday and the spirits' mischief hits its peak, something suspicious arrives from the knock of a bellhop: An unmarked, gold box, containing a set of adorable kitty-cat chocolates. Of course, Matoba ought to have expected some manner of trick on his birthday, but what comes doesn't seem... too bad, he thinks... In fact, it seems sort of fun.]

[He sits on the bed, Rokurou snoozing beside him, and reads the instructions over and over. Glancing sidelong at the man, and back to the box....... Well. It is his birthday. Shouldn't he be allowed to have a little fun?]

[Matoba was usually quite the solitary sleeper, preferring to be settled on one side of the bed on his lonesome, and not at all cuddled up to the daemon. But by the time Rokurou awakens, there's a warmth settled unusually half-over his lower half, with the occasional flick of soft fur against a hipbone, against his legs. And, he'll come to realize with more and more lucidity, a pleasurable warm wetness over his cock, flicking back and forth, and sinking over him. Just a little more than the usual blood-thickening throb of morning wood....]

[ It’s a normal morning. Rokurou stretches an arm out lazily and Matoba isn’t there—standard. They don’t cuddle or spoon when they sleep because they like their own space. The bed is comfortable and he’s feeling quite good, very warm, and the blankets must have been stacked high last night because they’re heavier than usual. He’s on the cusp of a dream, between wakefulness and sleep, where pleasure begins to slowly mount. Waking up to a semi-wetdream isn’t all that unusual either.

The daemon sighs and rolls his head. Then, slowly, his eyelashes flutter and his lids begin to crack. At first he doesn’t see much with his vision blurred by sleep. He happily and blindly grasps down toward his hips for a lazy morning masturbation session. What he grabs instead is, ]

Haa—? [ a sharp exhale of surprise as his fingers curl against hair, ] Matoba?!

[ His eyes shoot open at the lurid scene of Matoba greedily sucking his cock. It would be sexy as hell to wake up to this if it weren’t for, ]

Why the hell are you a cat again!?

Hfff,

[The slight spitting of a hiss at the back of Matoba's throat is comically muffled over the wet blockage of a cock at the precipice of his throat. Paired with a glare and earned by the sudden grab of his hair, the (cat?) exorcist quickly seems to get over it and continues along his merry task, relaxing his jaw again to burgeon lower. The tip tickles at the back of his tongue, and he draws back again, lips sealing around the head to nurse eagerly as nails knead in the meat of the daemon's inner thighs.]

[Seeming quite proud of himself, he doesn't see fit to give an answer to Ro's question. How silly. He simply half-lids his eye in that judgmental way he does when Rokurou has said something he finds insipid, and nurses eagerly at the tip of his cock.]

[Does it matter?]

[ Yes!! Yes, it fucking matters!!!!!! Why is his nightmare manifesting in reality?!

Before Rokurou can spit out another word, Matoba clamps around his glans and sucks, drawing a strong shiver from the daemon. His breath hitches and toes scrunch in pleasure; precum beads, with heavy drops smearing onto the exorcist’s tongue. The pinch of pain from the nails digging into his thigh goes straight to his balls—Rokurou’s face and throat flush faintly as his breathing quickens.

Turned on and annoyed, the demon yanks Matoba’s hair like a leash. Brat. He has half a mind to roll away and deny the man his dick, but that would be a double-edged sword given the state he’s been brought to while asleep. So, Rokurou’s brow furrows, and he thrusts his hips to shamelessly fuck Matoba’s mouth. ]

[He can be yuor angle... or your sleep paralysis demon....]

[Most of the time it seems to be the latter, but surely it'll pay off one of these days, right? ~~In a fancy dress.~~ Unfortunately for Ro, but Matoba knows what he likes. Being nursed, unrelenting and cruel suction that demands all of him, bids him to empty over his tongue. What Rokurou likes is pleasure and pain. He feels the tighten of Ro's sack just below where his lips surround him and he sinks downward, meanly rolling him to the base in his lips and pulling at the skin at the joint of his thighs, stretching at his taint without giving kind relief to the muscle tensing between.]

[Feeling his hair gripped, another, louder growl builds in his throat before it's interrupted by the sudden slide of Rokurou's cock further down the bed of his tongue and into the tender clutch of his throat; his eye widens, pupil going narrow, and then he hisses harshly at the back of his throat as he tries to yank back again. Rokurou's hold is harsh, but not quite enough to keep him from yanking back again, and a messy smear of pre darts across his cheek as he drops Ro's poor, spitty cock right back onto his belly in a sad and sudden loss of that sweet warmth.]

Stop that. Why are you so difficult, [He demands like a put-upon mother, reaching up to dig one hand's blunt "claws" into Ro's wrist and wrench it away. He tries to do something nice, on his own birthday, and this is what he gets!!]

[ How good it feels to freely fuck Matoba’s throat for a few blissful pumps is worth the man’s hissing irritation. The daemon cocks his head and smirks, eyes lidded, too enamored with the smear of pre-cum across Matoba’s cheek for his own good. It’s always fun to frustrate him, even better to get him riled up and bothered… a small laugh finally escapes the daemon’s crooked smile.

He doesn’t bother to answer the question—Matoba knows the answer, why bother—instead lurching forward to grab the exorcist-turned-cat by the nape and crash their mouths together in a heated kiss. He can taste himself on those lips, salty and thick, as he forces his tongue forward into the man’s mouth for a greedy sweep.

When he allows the kiss to break, it’s only to speak against Matoba’s lips. ]

Hey, Seiji. [ a tickle of warm breath and a voice gone husky, ] Happy birthday.

[ Why the fuck are you a cat ]

[He is not appeased. ...Okay, he is not fully appeased by the kiss he's dragged up into, but mostly by Rokurou's usual, flippant attitude, even this early in the morning. He was enjoying himself and treating this idiot lug and what does he get for it??]

[The low hiss sounds again from around the gaps of their mouths as he's kissed, and the unimpressed, cat-like stare Rokurou gets as he pulls away earns only a disgruntled sound at the greeting.]

It could be, [He sniffs,] If you would behave yourself. [His tail flicks behind him in irritated twitches, and he soon shrugs himself free of Rokurou's embrace in another cat-like motion, ears quirking as he tries to groom his poor chin clean.]

Lay still. I wasn't done with that.

Stop, I can’t look at that.

[ At Matoba grooming himself like a cat… even if he is one, right now. Rokurou reaches out and rubs Matoba’s chin himself, ]

Lay still, lay still? You know I’m no good at that. Now, tell me, what happened to you? Did you make some kind of twisted birthday wish?

[ At least when there are obvious weak points, Rokurou can take advantage. After cleaning Matoba’s chin and then wiping his hands clean with a tissue, he reaches forward to knead one of those velvety ears. ]

You don't want your cock sucked?

[Sullen and disappointed, Matoba is only mildly appeased by the rubbing of his new ears, though his eye goes half-lidded and his breathing evens out. The ear flicks to and fro in his fingertips, enjoying the rubbing at the base the most.]

I did not make any wish. But I did receive something interesting.

… it’s not that I don’t want it.

[ He focuses kneading at the base of those feline ears, watching as Matoba’s expression softens beneath the attention. It’s… admittedly, kind of cute. Even if he’s still offended that he’s woken up to a cat in his bed. ]

What did you get?

Then you are simply being difficult for the sake of it,

[Matoba huffs as if to confirm to himself, turning his head away mid-scritch in defiance. Cat, indeed. Not that he actually stops Ro from that rubbing......... It feels good.]

[Eye having gone lidded with pleasure, he slowly opens it again to cast a disdainful glance back towards Ro's question.]

That isn't your concern. [You know.. even though it obviously has something to do with being a catboy.] Hmph, I've lost my appetite now. You can finish yourself.

[ It absolutely is his concern!? If Matoba suddenly has the power to change into a catman at will, the person that’s going to be plagued the most is himself.

But both cats and Matoba Seiji are contrary creatures. Pursue and they’ll run. Avoid and they’ll haunt you forever. Which is why Rokurou snorts, drawing his hands back and turning his nose up, as if he no longer cares about the cause of this sudden cattening or Matoba’s skillful mouth. ]

Okay.

[ Shifting to ignoring the other man, Rokurou grasps his cock and closes his eyes, reclining his head back in lazy pleasure as he begins jerking himself off. His lips move wordlessly as pleasure builds, the tip of his cock gleaming with a fresh bead of precum as he generously strokes himself. His eyebrows furrow and a sigh escapes his lips as his pace quickens and the smell of precum deepens.

Actually, jerking one off alone isn’t so bad every now and then… feels good… ]

[Rokurou's eyes close and he sets back to do just that.]

[So, it must be no surprise at all when, in a minute or two, the sensation of a warm tongue joins, tasting pre over his cock and fingers.]

[Greedy and mean, Matoba's teeth nip at Rokurou's fingers when they get in his way, trying to wrap his lips back over the source of that sticky prize he'd been working at himself, thank you. Refused and bothered and refused again, Matoba won't lose, whether it's at domination or in petty arguments. And, as long as he's getting what he wants, he hasn't lost.]

[Lips sink down over Rokurou's cock when his grip falls down to the base, leaving the head free to be captured. There Matoba nurses- no rough kitty tongue, just his usual, ruthless, insistent pump of lips, waiting to receive what is his.]

[ This time Rokurou allows the exorcist to do what he wants. His hand is bullied away in the end, and he allows it to go easily, resting back against the pillow to enjoy. The daemon's breath hitches when that mouth sinks over his cock, lips and teeth nursing over the glans in a way that beats sensation over his head(s).

Rokurou finds a new home for his fingers in the sheets. Gripping them, he sighs again, looking down at the other man from between his eyelashes. Happy? He's being nice and obedient, giving Matoba freedom of that sticky prize he's so hungry for. There's really no point in fighting against him on this one, because in the end, Rokurou benefits as well.

Precum continues to bead. The daemon swallows, crawling again toward climax, but not quite there yet. That's what he gets for some denial-play, huh... ]

[That's right. You belong to him, says that vicious, slanted eye that watches from Rokurou's lap. Even when he is the one bowing his head, with cock in his mouth, Matoba's imperious nature lets you know that he is the one in control here. Kitty-cat enhancements or no; that is just his own personality at blame.]

[In the lazy warmth of morning wakefulness, it isn't a surprise that arousal is slow to climb in Rokurou's body, but that makes it all the more soft and sweet as pre smears over the bed of his tongue on every downstroke, vehemently working his lips over the shaft. His own blunt claws plant against meaty thigh and hip, keeping him anchored in place for rough fucking over his lap. He is determined to keep his pace, breaths flaring from his nose, even if it forces into his throat a little too much on a stroke downward- that is his own technique, and not Rokurou's, who is forbidden from interfering.]

[Greedy, he swallows the tang of spit and pre that mix in his throat. His own thighs spread against the bed, grinding the awakening of an erection against the sheet. Whatever he's gone and done to himself, it certainly hasn't stopped at some fuzzy appendages.]

GOLDEN PEACOCK: INBOX+OVERFLOW

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