Ashe sat alone in the commons area of the Boys’ Dorm, where he seemed to often find himself lately, staying far away from the cafeteria where he’d heard a certain demon was sniping off demons before they could get into the safe zone. Once again with a book balanced on his bent knees, the silverette was mostly lost to the world, tail twitching lightly on the cushions of the couch as his eyes moved over the words of the novel.
Mindful of the dorm’s still busted cooling system, a certain red and white sweater hung loosely off his small form. While the sleeves that covered his hands made turning pages a bit difficult, the garment was warm and covered in a scent that Ashe found comforting.
The words on the page blurred a bit as he started to think back to when he’d first worn the sweater. He’d tried to return it to Cormac when they’d parted ways that day, but the redhead had simply waved him off, insisting he keep it. A small smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the teasing he’d received the next time Cormac had seen him in it.
He vaguely registered the sound of the main entrance doors opening and closing as he returned his focus to the novel. That focus was quickly broken, though, as a pair of hands settled over his eyes, and a poorly disguised voice purred, “Guess who,” in his ear.
While he was surprised by the initial covering of his eyes, who it turned out to be didn’t at all. If the voice hadn’t given it away, the familiar scent that quickly consumed his senses did. He reached up and placed his hands over the others’, gently prying them from his face. “Aren’t we a little old for ‘Guess who,’ Cormac?” Ashe questioned lightly as he tilted his head back to look at the other, an amused smile on his face as the older demon pouted at him.
“Aw, how did you know it was me?” The redhead whined.
“You didn’t do a very good job of disguising your voice, dummy.” He explained lightly, twisting his hands slightly so that he could entwine their fingers.
Cormac gasped dramatically. “What? But I’m the perfect actor! You must just be a little psychic,” he teased, his face coming dangerously closel to the silverette’s as his smile went playful. Watching the color flush to his little fox’s face, Cormac felt a vague sense of triumph; he hadn’t even needed to run his fingers along that gorgeous silver tail to get him worked up that time.
Ashe pulled away, irked by the way Cormac had gotten him to react, and turned his attention back to his book. Cormac stayed silent for a bit, giving Ashe just enough time to get involved in the book again- before he snatched it out of his hands.
“You know,” he sighed, pretending to be put out, “It’s rather rude to ignore somebody. Especially when you’re wearing their clothing.”
Cormac plucked at the sweater in question, his fingers brushing against Ashe’s neck, and grinned when the silverette pulled away like he’d been burned. He might have been, based on the color red his skin was turning. “I said I’d give it back to you,” he muttered, his eyes staying resolutely on the lines of text before them.
“Mm, but it looks so much better on you,” Cormac purred, and that time, he let his fingers drift down to where they’d wanted to be all day- running along the length of Ashe’s tail, coaxing out another squeak, making the smaller demon jump away from him. The book, knocked out of his lap, crashed to the floor, but they barely noticed; Ashe was trying to control his blush before he overheated, and Cormac was biting down on his lip to halt his laughter before he could embarrass the boy more. So the book sat on the floor, spine ever so slowly breaking, while Cormac beamed at his little silver fox.
“I just can’t get enough of that,” he murmured, his fingers itching to be feeling that silken fur again.
Ashe turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well I can!” he snapped, lying, just trying to cover his embarrassment. But Cormac saw through him.
“Don’t lie, little fox, it’s useless,” he scolded.
Ashe began to scowl, hating how easily the redhead understood him even as he loved it. “Do you ever just… stop talking?” he questioned.
“Only when I’m using my mouth for better things.”
Ashe’s mouth fell open, and for a second he was sure he’d heard wrong- until he felt the couch shaking slightly as Cormac laughed, leaning against the couch. Knowing he’d heard exactly right, his mouth moved on its own. “Maybe you should start doing those things, then, so I won’t have to hear you talk anymore,” he grumped.
He only realized what he said when Cormac suddenly stopped laughing, his spring green eyes going wide as he looked at the silverette. “Well, if that’s what you want,” he said softly, leaning in closer.
Cormac moved slowly, one hand resting on the back of Ashe’s neck to draw him closer. He gave Ashe more than enough time to pull away. Because the silverette didn’t, he didn’t feel guilty about the way his little fox jumped slightly when their lips came together; not even really kissing, just a soft brush. Even that, though, was enough to have the younger demon jumping backwards, almost falling over the couch.
Ashe stared at Cormac over the hand that covered his mouth, his face flaming red, hot all over- from what, he didn’t know. He could have simply been embarrassed, but he doubted that was all when he could still feel the ghost of Cormac’s lips against his. The fingers of his other hand were tightly wrapped in the overlong sleeve of Cormac’s sweater, and he looked down at the red and white stripes, trying to collect himself.
“Sorry, little fox.” And Cormac had the gall to pat Ashe on the head, between where his fake ears usually sat, sounding apologetic.
Ashe’s hand caught Cormac’s wrist, and he glared up at the redhead. “Stop apologizing for this stuff!” he snapped, before letting go as suddenly as he’d snatched. Scrambling to his feet, Ashe spared only a moment to glare at the redhead before leaving the room in a snit.
Cormac’s amused eyes followed him the whole way, noting which of the four sets of stairs he took. Then he sat down in the spot Ashe had just vacated, picking up the book Ashe had just dropped and flipping back to the first page, losing himself in the story.
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