You're the one turning in circles before you lie down like a good boy.
[It occurs to Maera as soon as he says that that, thanks to circumstances, that particular phrase has become very sexually charged for him in a way Mallory would probably not understand. Hmm. He meant it innocently this time . . . !]
I'm pretty sure I know how you feel about it. Same as you'd know how I feel about it.
[They probably don't share all of their kinks or preferences at this point, but, y'know. Butt stuff came way before the Mallory/Maera Split. He can hazard a guess.
He shrugs, not meaning for that to come off too charged; it's just a statement of fact. And then he tips back onto his back in the grass and stretches out to look up at the stars.]
[The little noise that rises out of his throat doesn't even manage to sound questioning. It's just an acknowledgement. Yep, that is happening. Yep, Maera is lying still and not verbally acknowledging it otherwise, because if he does he might chase Mallory away or something . . . let him decide how far to go with that.
His stomach is bare and warm and tight and less pudge than Mallory's, but not zero pudge. It can be felt maybe more than seen. He could stand to lose ten pounds tops, and hasn't been trying very hard to do so. It lifts a little when he takes a breath, which he does quietly.]
[He takes note of this pudge, and in the dark recesses of his mind he marks it as his greatest rival. He will defeat it. Soon.
But, in the meantime...
He's actually a little surprised that Maera is neither snapping at him or trying to egg him on. Even the lack of real reaction doesn't have the undercurrent of baiting him into a trap. His fingers splay out over his abdomen tentatively. A second ago, he was ready to just make a big stupid show of scratching Maera's belly and making more dog jokes, but now he's actually a little curious.
It's kind of nice, feeling someone else's warmth on a night like this. But also, that someone is his own double. BUT ALSO, what if he slides his hand slowly up toward Maera's chest? It's not necessarily sexual, at least on his end, he thinks...
He stops with his palm covering the scar from a superheated blade and he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.]
[It'd been a toss-up for a good minute there whether or not this was sexual; Maera was undecided, and also undecided on what he preferred the answer to be. It's just touching. It could go either way. And, honestly, he wanted it either way; whether this was a come-on or an erotic exploration or stupid bro teasing or some strange form of intimacy the two of them are inventing as they go, that can only be understood by two of the same person . . .
He wants any of those options, so he holds still and lets it happen.
When Mallory's hand comes to rest over his scar, though, it's suddenly not any of those things. It's intimate on a level so deep it hurts. Pleasantly, and also not, like being sad and then sitting in your room listening to sad music to deliberately make yourself sadder. (He'd done that plenty of times in high school. Maybe even a few times since.)
Maera stays still, but his breath catches, and he has to tilt his head away, eyes closing.
Ironically, it makes the moment feel more erotic than the ones leading up to it, at least internally. Dammit, that's weird! But not bad . . . ]
[It definitely isn't that this small and simple act has no meaning to Mallory. But he is neither mentally alert nor philosophical enough to decipher just what the meaning is; it's a powerful pull towards someone who makes him feel whole and incomplete, whose history and motivations are ones he understands better than anybody else and yet he can still seem to be a perfect enigma at times, the complete stranger whose life he has shared in the most literal sense. It's too complex for him to even begin to break down anymore.
He just can't decide if it's less lonely to have someone who gets him like nobody else ever could, or if that loneliness is only made sharper with how they've begun to branch out.
In this moment, he's sure he must be glad to have Maera's company. He doesn't have to fumble for awkward excuses to reach out for comfort like this. Although he does take a second to try to justify his present impulse to himself, before he gives in to the instinctive urge to duck his head down, open-jawed, to press his teeth to the throat so kindly presented to him. His tail drums out a little victory beat against the grass. Ha ha, he wins.]
[Whether it was erotic before or not, it sure is now! Congratulations, Mallory, your prize is your double gasping quietly before he can bite back the impulse. It sounds incredibly loud in his own ears, only matched by the stupid tails hitting the ground, which both of them are now doing.
And then once that's out, what next? He's at a loss. Maera wishes he could melt right into the ground where he is and disappear, or maybe that he could punch Mallory in the face, or, possibly, that he could grab him over and press their lips together. Two of those are a little more realistic than the other—and yet right now, doing anything feels impossible. He's frozen in indecision.
The one thing he does manage is opening his eyes again and looking up at Mallory's face. Good idea? Bad idea?]
[He can feel the gasp in his large, pointed ears, and in his teeth against sensitive skin, and in his hand still on Maera's chest, and the way it all speeds up his own pulse. Whoa-hoa! What was initially a playful display of dominance has suddenly become so much more sensual than Mallory was prepared for, and he jerks his head back, his brain finally catching up with the situation. Uh, what should he... do, here... what should he be feeling?! Was that the dog thing or something else that compelled him in the first place?
He swallows audibly, his ears lowering in uncertainty. Quick, say something to break the tension...!]
...Huh. Looks like I'm the one hitting on you this time.
[FUCKING NAILED IT. Maera sputters out with the kind of stupid, gasping laugh that can only come from a hell of a lot of tension spilling out all at once.
. . . It's not like all of the tension fades, though. The desire he had still weighs warmly on him. It's just a little less uncomfortable now. Mallory saying that, even that damn stupidly, changes things. Way to go being the first one to actually admit to whatever the hell this is! Someone needed to do it, dammit!
Maera lifts his hand to rub at Mallory's ears when he sees them lower, fingers tangling through his hair. It feels so different short like this.]
[He wants to be all indignant about being laughed at, but that's far better than being taken seriously. He's pretty sure, anyway. He'll just fuss about being pet instead.]
Alright, knock it off already!
[Of course, his tail betrays just how good that feels, and he grumbles in defeat. Well, fine. Maybe he'll just slump forward until he's sprawled gracelessly half on the grass, half across Maera's chest, resting his head on his shoulder. MAYBE HE'LL SLEEP HERE, HOW'S THAT.]
Huuuuh? So that wasn't a joke? Guess that means I should be doing something else about it.
[Mallory, you whiny shit. Maera grins up at the stars at the comfortable warmth of their bodies fit together. He doesn't look down as he lets his hand feel its way down Mallory's neck, his shoulders and back, creeping down his spine in a long, slow stroke until Maera's fingertips come to rest at the base of Mallory's tail.]
[A shudder follows Maera's touch down his spine despite Mallory's best efforts not to, and his body tenses in anticipation. Is this really what he wants? The touch feels good, that's for sure, and it's not like he hasn't already found himself in a sexual scenario with Maera before. But it's more that he isn't entirely sure that this is the kind of comfort he's looking for in general lately. Or maybe it's the one he should be. Who knows.
...He's probably just teasing, and so Mallory doesn't have to think too hard about it. His tension ebbs out with a small sigh. He'll play along, why not? It's a nice distraction.]
—I'm not. I'm just . . . going with what feels right.
[Maybe that's a little too honest. It's sure not as confidently flirty as he was going for before. But it is true, and a smidge of vulnerability leaks into Maera's tone. His hand lingers where it is, doing nothing more than rubbing little idle circles where Mallory's tail meets his body.]
Hah. At least that'd make one of us who can figure out what feels right.
[The tail thing still feels wrong, wrong, wrong, but that's no fault of Maera's. It was jarring enough to suddenly be lacking a bundle of nerves where his hand once was - he swears he can still feel it, sometimes - but suddenly having a new body part entirely is on a whole 'nother level. He wonders if Maera felt the same at first. He'll get used to it, sooner or later.
His hand blindly seeks out Maera's face, cradling his cheek to pull him closer so Mallory can press the side of his head to his double's. He doesn't want him to leave or anything. He likes him too much. Just don't make him say something that embarrassing.]
[It comes out because he's not sure what else to say, and he's not sure he should have said that either. What's he sorry for? Coming on to Mallory? Not really. Making him uncomfortable, yeah, if he did, and he's pretty sure that just happened. Maera slides his hand back up and away from the tail to come to rest on the middle of Mallory's back instead. There, that feels safer. He still doesn't want to move away.
Their heads pressed together does feel right to him. That much he knows. When he sighs, Mallory can probably feel it on his cheek.]
[He started it and then ruined it by being a cagey weirdo! He's the one who has no idea what he wants, and has too many hangups to let himself chase after it when he does.
He huffs quietly, frustrated with himself. And then he continues, quietly:]
Being with you feels pretty good. Go ahead, call me a narcissist.
That'd make me one too. But maybe I am. Look at me now, cuddling with myself. What the hell is that?
[It's good is what it is. It's what he wants, and Maera's gotten into letting himself have things he wants lately. It's new for him, but a success so far. At least it is when the other person wants the same things.
He moves his hand back up again to play with the short ends of Mallory's hair.]
Look . . . just this is fine. It doesn't matter what you think you started. I don't care who started it. We can end it wherever we want. Here's good.
...Hmm. Listen to you, being all kind and considerate. A real gentleman. You're right, what the hell is that? You softie.
[But there's an audible smile around his words. He'll admit it - Maera really is a good guy, and you don't even need to dig that deep down to find it. He deserves to be happy and to be loved, and he is the kind of person Mallory can - does - love, too.
So he should just admit that it extends to himself, already. Shit keeps happening to him, but how much of it does he actually deserve? Not zero percent, sure, but maybe not nearly as much as he keeps convincing himself he does...
He turns his head enough to press his lips to Maera's temple. Whatever this is, it's good, and they both should get to have it.]
[Good boy, Mallory, figuring out the truth of things. It's hard not to, in this situation. Even coming from a somewhat better mental state initially than Mallory had, Maera, too, has been forced to admit that maybe he's not so bad after all himself. How can he be, when he likes this other him so much? How can it be that he spends so much time self-conscious and embarrassed—not entirely unpleasantly—over how much Mallory reminds him of himself, and yet he wants to be around him this much anyway?
Makes you think.
He holds still for the kiss, and then turns his face to catch Mallory's lips with his in a quick press. He's not going to push it. As far as kisses go, it could be almost platonic; if two people were ever capable of platonic kissing, it makes sense it'd be them.
[Maera's the softie, Mallory's the narcissist, he wants to jab. Or maybe it's both for the two of them? But it's a little hard to get the words out right now, when he doesn't want to move his mouth from Maera's.
Huh. So that's what it feels like. He always figured his own lips would feel more... rugged, somehow. But this isn't bad; they're warm and comfortable and of course their faces just fit so damn well together. And look at that, they didn't suddenly merge into one person or pop right out of existence. So- screw it. Who else gets to experience the novelty of making out with themselves?
He moves just enough to scoot over so he's more properly over top of Maera, at an angle where he's not going to throw his neck out doing this, and presses his lips firmly against his. His fingers comb through his hair and rub one of his ears affectionately. Yeah, good boy.]
[The great pettings kickstart a domino effect: Maera's tail starts wagging harder again, thumping at the ground, which makes him laugh, which is awkward while kissing, to say the least. He has to break it for a moment to snort and grin against Mallory's lips. And this opportunity could easily be used to pull away, but . . . nah. Nope. He's had inklings for a while now that he wanted to do this, and actually getting to do it, however awkwardly, just proves to him immediately that this is a good idea.
So after that quick giggle break, he leans in again to kiss back properly. The whole arm wraps around Mallory's back, the other one moving to lean against his side, though Maera shies away from that a little even when it's Mallory. He's still kinda weird about touching anyone with the stump, especially in a romantic or sexual context.]
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[It occurs to Maera as soon as he says that that, thanks to circumstances, that particular phrase has become very sexually charged for him in a way Mallory would probably not understand. Hmm. He meant it innocently this time . . . !]
You roll over if you want your damn tummy rubs.
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How about I roll the other way so you can kiss my ass?
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[He nudges hard against Mallory's side. If they were on a roadtrip together, this would be a Icaruuuuus he's touching meeeeee! moment.]
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he's thinking about it now.]
I bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you. That's why you're all excited about me sniffing butts.
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[They probably don't share all of their kinks or preferences at this point, but, y'know. Butt stuff came way before the Mallory/Maera Split. He can hazard a guess.
He shrugs, not meaning for that to come off too charged; it's just a statement of fact. And then he tips back onto his back in the grass and stretches out to look up at the stars.]
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Well, fine. That's the end of that and Mallory's not going to press the subject any further.
Not when he can just lay his hand flat on Maera's stomach and stare at him.]
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[The little noise that rises out of his throat doesn't even manage to sound questioning. It's just an acknowledgement. Yep, that is happening. Yep, Maera is lying still and not verbally acknowledging it otherwise, because if he does he might chase Mallory away or something . . . let him decide how far to go with that.
His stomach is bare and warm and tight and less pudge than Mallory's, but not zero pudge. It can be felt maybe more than seen. He could stand to lose ten pounds tops, and hasn't been trying very hard to do so. It lifts a little when he takes a breath, which he does quietly.]
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But, in the meantime...
He's actually a little surprised that Maera is neither snapping at him or trying to egg him on. Even the lack of real reaction doesn't have the undercurrent of baiting him into a trap. His fingers splay out over his abdomen tentatively. A second ago, he was ready to just make a big stupid show of scratching Maera's belly and making more dog jokes, but now he's actually a little curious.
It's kind of nice, feeling someone else's warmth on a night like this. But also, that someone is his own double. BUT ALSO, what if he slides his hand slowly up toward Maera's chest? It's not necessarily sexual, at least on his end, he thinks...
He stops with his palm covering the scar from a superheated blade and he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.]
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He wants any of those options, so he holds still and lets it happen.
When Mallory's hand comes to rest over his scar, though, it's suddenly not any of those things. It's intimate on a level so deep it hurts. Pleasantly, and also not, like being sad and then sitting in your room listening to sad music to deliberately make yourself sadder. (He'd done that plenty of times in high school. Maybe even a few times since.)
Maera stays still, but his breath catches, and he has to tilt his head away, eyes closing.
Ironically, it makes the moment feel more erotic than the ones leading up to it, at least internally. Dammit, that's weird! But not bad . . . ]
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He just can't decide if it's less lonely to have someone who gets him like nobody else ever could, or if that loneliness is only made sharper with how they've begun to branch out.
In this moment, he's sure he must be glad to have Maera's company. He doesn't have to fumble for awkward excuses to reach out for comfort like this. Although he does take a second to try to justify his present impulse to himself, before he gives in to the instinctive urge to duck his head down, open-jawed, to press his teeth to the throat so kindly presented to him. His tail drums out a little victory beat against the grass. Ha ha, he wins.]
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And then once that's out, what next? He's at a loss. Maera wishes he could melt right into the ground where he is and disappear, or maybe that he could punch Mallory in the face, or, possibly, that he could grab him over and press their lips together. Two of those are a little more realistic than the other—and yet right now, doing anything feels impossible. He's frozen in indecision.
The one thing he does manage is opening his eyes again and looking up at Mallory's face. Good idea? Bad idea?]
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He swallows audibly, his ears lowering in uncertainty. Quick, say something to break the tension...!]
...Huh. Looks like I'm the one hitting on you this time.
[fucking NAILED it]
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. . . It's not like all of the tension fades, though. The desire he had still weighs warmly on him. It's just a little less uncomfortable now. Mallory saying that, even that damn stupidly, changes things. Way to go being the first one to actually admit to whatever the hell this is! Someone needed to do it, dammit!
Maera lifts his hand to rub at Mallory's ears when he sees them lower, fingers tangling through his hair. It feels so different short like this.]
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Alright, knock it off already!
[Of course, his tail betrays just how good that feels, and he grumbles in defeat. Well, fine. Maybe he'll just slump forward until he's sprawled gracelessly half on the grass, half across Maera's chest, resting his head on his shoulder. MAYBE HE'LL SLEEP HERE, HOW'S THAT.]
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[Mallory, you whiny shit. Maera grins up at the stars at the comfortable warmth of their bodies fit together. He doesn't look down as he lets his hand feel its way down Mallory's neck, his shoulders and back, creeping down his spine in a long, slow stroke until Maera's fingertips come to rest at the base of Mallory's tail.]
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[A shudder follows Maera's touch down his spine despite Mallory's best efforts not to, and his body tenses in anticipation. Is this really what he wants? The touch feels good, that's for sure, and it's not like he hasn't already found himself in a sexual scenario with Maera before. But it's more that he isn't entirely sure that this is the kind of comfort he's looking for in general lately. Or maybe it's the one he should be. Who knows.
...He's probably just teasing, and so Mallory doesn't have to think too hard about it. His tension ebbs out with a small sigh. He'll play along, why not? It's a nice distraction.]
What're you planning?
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[Maybe that's a little too honest. It's sure not as confidently flirty as he was going for before. But it is true, and a smidge of vulnerability leaks into Maera's tone. His hand lingers where it is, doing nothing more than rubbing little idle circles where Mallory's tail meets his body.]
Could be nothing.
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[The tail thing still feels wrong, wrong, wrong, but that's no fault of Maera's. It was jarring enough to suddenly be lacking a bundle of nerves where his hand once was - he swears he can still feel it, sometimes - but suddenly having a new body part entirely is on a whole 'nother level. He wonders if Maera felt the same at first. He'll get used to it, sooner or later.
His hand blindly seeks out Maera's face, cradling his cheek to pull him closer so Mallory can press the side of his head to his double's. He doesn't want him to leave or anything. He likes him too much. Just don't make him say something that embarrassing.]
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[It comes out because he's not sure what else to say, and he's not sure he should have said that either. What's he sorry for? Coming on to Mallory? Not really. Making him uncomfortable, yeah, if he did, and he's pretty sure that just happened. Maera slides his hand back up and away from the tail to come to rest on the middle of Mallory's back instead. There, that feels safer. He still doesn't want to move away.
Their heads pressed together does feel right to him. That much he knows. When he sighs, Mallory can probably feel it on his cheek.]
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[He started it and then ruined it by being a cagey weirdo! He's the one who has no idea what he wants, and has too many hangups to let himself chase after it when he does.
He huffs quietly, frustrated with himself. And then he continues, quietly:]
Being with you feels pretty good. Go ahead, call me a narcissist.
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[It's good is what it is. It's what he wants, and Maera's gotten into letting himself have things he wants lately. It's new for him, but a success so far. At least it is when the other person wants the same things.
He moves his hand back up again to play with the short ends of Mallory's hair.]
Look . . . just this is fine. It doesn't matter what you think you started. I don't care who started it. We can end it wherever we want. Here's good.
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[But there's an audible smile around his words. He'll admit it - Maera really is a good guy, and you don't even need to dig that deep down to find it. He deserves to be happy and to be loved, and he is the kind of person Mallory can - does - love, too.
So he should just admit that it extends to himself, already. Shit keeps happening to him, but how much of it does he actually deserve? Not zero percent, sure, but maybe not nearly as much as he keeps convincing himself he does...
He turns his head enough to press his lips to Maera's temple. Whatever this is, it's good, and they both should get to have it.]
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[Good boy, Mallory, figuring out the truth of things. It's hard not to, in this situation. Even coming from a somewhat better mental state initially than Mallory had, Maera, too, has been forced to admit that maybe he's not so bad after all himself. How can he be, when he likes this other him so much? How can it be that he spends so much time self-conscious and embarrassed—not entirely unpleasantly—over how much Mallory reminds him of himself, and yet he wants to be around him this much anyway?
Makes you think.
He holds still for the kiss, and then turns his face to catch Mallory's lips with his in a quick press. He's not going to push it. As far as kisses go, it could be almost platonic; if two people were ever capable of platonic kissing, it makes sense it'd be them.
But it could also not be. It's open.]
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Huh. So that's what it feels like. He always figured his own lips would feel more... rugged, somehow. But this isn't bad; they're warm and comfortable and of course their faces just fit so damn well together. And look at that, they didn't suddenly merge into one person or pop right out of existence. So- screw it. Who else gets to experience the novelty of making out with themselves?
He moves just enough to scoot over so he's more properly over top of Maera, at an angle where he's not going to throw his neck out doing this, and presses his lips firmly against his. His fingers comb through his hair and rub one of his ears affectionately. Yeah, good boy.]
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So after that quick giggle break, he leans in again to kiss back properly. The whole arm wraps around Mallory's back, the other one moving to lean against his side, though Maera shies away from that a little even when it's Mallory. He's still kinda weird about touching anyone with the stump, especially in a romantic or sexual context.]
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