He seemed to chuckle, his eyes growing darker as he did. He covered his mouth, making it hard for me to tell if he was angry or aroused. I sniffled a little when he made his way over. He scooped me up off the floor and sat us both on the settee, with me on his lap, naturally. I didn’t know what to say so I just looked at him. 

He smiled somewhat maliciously. “If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to tickle my sadistic side, you know?” He wiped my eyes with his thumb and then licked the tears off it. “It’s sweet,” he said darkly. I raised an eyebrow at that.

“What’re you talking about? Tears are salty,” I said, baffled.

“No, yours are sweet,” he assured, smirking. “You should cry more.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Make me,” I dared.

He grabbed my ankle and pulled my foot to his mouth before running his tongue along the wound on it. I yelped, half from shock and half from the stinging pain, then my leg jerked reflexively, kicking his face. He seemed thrilled.

“Ah, that’s good, too,” he cooed.

“You’re pleased either way,” I said beneath my breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Let me go.” I tried to push myself away but he pulled me right back.

“No way. How can I leave an injured kitten alone?”

“I…” I started, wondering how to counter him. “I’m older than you! Who’re you calling a kitten?” is what I ended up saying.

“Isn’t it cute? It’s like when guys call their girlfriends ‘baby’ or something,” he explained. Some sort of disgust crawled over my skin.

“I’m not your girlfriend,” I seethed resolutely.

“Of course you’re not.” He seemed taken aback. “You’re a tomcat.” It was begrudgingly validating to hear him say that. I averted my eyes, a little embarrassed.

Duke quietly stroked my hair for a few moments before speaking again. “You know, the first time I left Duchess home alone for the day, she pissed everywhere. Even chewed up a stack of documents I left on my desk. So don’t worry about it.” I wondered what he thought I was worried about. When I realised he was referring to me breaking something and essentially trashing the room, I decided not to correct him, so just nodded in response.

He slid his hand up the leg of my lounge pants, making me shiver. “Hey!” I gasped. “Your hands are cold.”

“You better warm them up then.”

I pushed him away and got to my feet. “Fine. I’ll make you some coffee: that’ll warm you up.”

“Coffee? At this time of night? I’d rather warm up in bed with you…” He peeked at me with begging eyes. I stared back, unamused.

“Not happening,” I dismissed. He pouted, but was clearly enjoying himself. He followed me into the kitchen and happily chose which mugs we should use. Both were cat themed, unsurprisingly.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked while waiting for the coffee to cool.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. You made me breakfast, remember?” I hadn’t even thought about food before he asked. Upon reflection, the reason my stomach had been hurting for a while was probably because I was just drinking all day without eating.

“… You haven’t eaten anything since then?” he asked, obviously concerned.

“No.”

He sighed and picked me up, putting me on his hip. “Let’s order something. How’s pizza sound?” I perked up, because I really like pizza and hadn’t had one in ages.

He took out his phone and brought up the website for a take-out pizza place. We discussed what topping to get, then he placed the order and said it should take about half an hour.

He sat me down on the kitchen island and then took a first-aid kit out of one of the cupboards. I watched silently, faintly wondering if he hurt himself at first. Then he got on his knees in front of me and started treating the cut on my foot. I found that kind of sweet.

I must have been smiling, because he looked up at me when he’d finished, but instantly got embarrassed and looked away. “W-what is it?” he stammered, flushing.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a guy servicing me on his knees,” I explained, hoping to fluster him further. “It’s pretty nice.” Regrettably, I seemed to have flipped his switch in a different way.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, sliding his hands up my inner thighs while getting to his feet and leaning over me in one slow, fluid motion. He gave my thighs a squeeze and I sucked in a sharp breath as a shiver shot up my spine. I met his eyes and got swept up in the momentum, my hands cupping his face and pulling him closer.

Our lips locked, and, for the life of me, I couldn’t find the key.

Now, Duke is a lot of things, and unfortunately for me one of those things happens to be “a good kisser”. I was totally at his mercy and I honestly liked it.

One of his hands snaked under my shirt and slid up my back, which naturally arched in response, pushing me into him more.

It wasn’t until the hand on my thigh started inching into dangerous territory that I finally came back to my senses. I had some inner conflict about putting an end to things there, since I really wanted to continue, but I also desperately didn’t want to deal with what could happen if he copped a feel and found that I didn’t have a dick.

I grabbed his wrist to stop him. He pulled back from the kiss and looked at me with soft eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologised with a little giggle. “I thought the mood was right.” I ruffled his hair in condolence.

“The coffee’s getting cold,” I told him.

“Oh! Right!” He stepped aside so I could get down from the island and grab my mug. Thankfully it wasn’t too cold. We drank quietly, but every so often he would make a face like he remembered something and start to smile. Duke finished his first and then left to shower and change clothes.

Once he was gone, I let out a very unsatisfied grumble. “I want a smoke,” I sighed. At least I still had quite a few left, since I’d spent most of the day asleep. 

I went to the balcony.

Halfway through my second cigarette, my body had finally calmed down. After finishing the third, Duke walked into his room with a towel around his waist, fresh from his shower. I watched him pick up the shirt I’d left on his bed and sniff it. He seemed upset.

He looked my way with pleading eyes so I came back inside. “What?” I asked.

“You washed it…” he complained glumly.

“Yeah.”

“I wanted it to smell like you.” 

I gave him a look bordering apathy and disgust, which seemed to overwhelm him so much that he flopped down onto the bed and wriggled about delightedly. “You’re too perfect. Am I dreaming? What did I do to deserve this?” he asked himself, totally elated. I didn't even know what to think as I watched him. “Come here,” he said, patting the space next to him on the bed.

“No.”

“Why not?” he whined.

“You’re naked,” I explained. He opened his mouth, then shut it again and nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with my answer. He got back off the bed and started to get dressed, so I turned to leave.

“You’re not going to watch me this time?” he asked with a little smirk.

“Nope,” I said, walking out.

I went into the living room and sat down for a while before I realised my laptop was still there on the floor, so I turned it back on (it had shut itself off) and looked at what I’d drawn earlier. Just as I was wondering whether or not to show them to Duke, he sat down next to me.

“Is that me?” he asked, his voice quietly trembling. I nodded.

“I think this one turned out pretty good,” I said, zooming in on the coloured illustration of him as a cat-maid. He looked at it with a lot of interest before eventually glancing at me from the side.

“I didn’t realise you were into this sort of thing,” he said thoughtfully. “You know, if you asked, I wouldn’t mind wearing something like that for you.”

“Tempting,” I said sarcastically. “But I think I’m gonna pass.” 

When I showed him my recreation of the painting of Duchess, he started blubbering incoherently so I rubbed his back in an attempt to be soothing. I continued doing so until he calmed down, and then there was a knock on the door because the pizza had arrived.

Duke was really cautious with checking who was there before opening it, but nothing suspicious happened, and then we had our pizza.

If I remember correctly, which of course I do, it was fucking delicious.