Tides of Change pt11

Okay, so maybe you’re not as placid about being essentially kidnapped as you’ve come to let on. When you woke up this morning, Cronus had been touching you again. Not anything bad, no, but just the brush of his fingers over your neck and shoulders. The touch of his lips curiously to your ear. Of course, you had thought he was asleep again, and tried to covertly slip away before he woke up, but a soft chuckle emanating from his chest disproved the notion and your face heated with anger. Needless to say, your bit his finger—earning a satisfactory yelp from him—and shoved him beneath the sopor with irritation, storming out of the recuperacoon with an annoyed hiss.

Once in the shower you remembered you were supposed to be indignant. But… You just weren’t feeling it. Naughty, though—now that was a different story altogether. You eye the cabinet next to you thoughtfully, then grin and dig through it. It only takes a second to locate the bottle you’re looking for and hide it deep within your cilidex. Cronus grins at you when you step free of the ablution block and you pointedly ignore him. Let him think you’re still really angry and not so much amused right now. Cronus pouts and goes in for his own infinite shower, and you know he doesn’t suspect a thing when he starts humming an ocean ditty under the spray. Yet as soon as the tap shuts off you chuckle, forcing a poker face onto your expression as you eat your breakfast—some sort of wrap? You have no idea, but it tastes pretty damn good. It isn’t easy keeping the expression when the sound of bottles being desperately moved reaches your ears, and you stare pointedly at your plate as the door opens and he stomps out.

“Wvhat did you do wvith it?”

“Do with what?”

“You knowv wvhat I’m talkin’ about. Wvhere’s my gel? You knowv, that stuff that I put in my hair to make me handsome? It’s not in there.”

“What would I do with it? I don’t style my hair like a desperate tool.” He growls and you snort in response, unimpressed, and then look up with a bored expression.

Oh…

Oh no…

He’s cute.

Cronus glares down at you with a raised eyebrow, probably wondering about your surprised expression. His arms are crossed over his chest, but you aren’t paying attention to anything below his hairline. It’s. So. Fluffy. You think you squeal in amusement because his growl grows louder. He must have manually dried his hair rather than waiting for it to dry on its own—you’ve always thought the water just sluiced off, which maybe it mostly does anyway, but still. His hair is a big mess of soft, haphazard locks, that just stick out so adorably and move from the drafts every time his earfins flutter.

“I am not a desperate tool,” he counters, breaking you from your trance. “And I knowv, my hair is fuckin’ creepy like this, lookin’ like it belongs to a landdwveller bein’ so fluffy and shit—stop starin’, please.” You blink slowly, dumbstruck, and grin with a new idea for torturing him. One way better than just stealing his nasty gel. Cronus snarls and absconds back to the ablution block to look again, obviously thinking he’s being laughed at. You get up quietly and follow, hiding out behind the door and waiting for him to exit. You’re surprised how effective this little prank was—doesn’t he keep a spare bottle around somewhere? Or are they all back on the ship? Nyeh, not your problem. Just his.

He huffs angrily and steps free of the bathroom, not even noticing you, and looks around curiously. You slide behind the open door quietly, watching him with an amused grin, and he whips his head around in a panic when he doesn’t see you right away. When Cronus looks behind him and sees you, you crouch down a little, imitating a land predator and stalking him. You don’t think he understands the reference, because he gives you a really weird look and sighs with a long suffering breath, then turns around to look elsewhere. All over the room you follow him, hiding behind the table and ‘coon and walls until he becomes frustrated (and perhaps greatly amused, you think) with always looking back and spying you watching him.

“Wvhat? Wvhat are you doin’?” he finally asks, exasperated. “If you’re just goin’ to wvatch me like that wvhile I look around then either help me or stop makin’ those creepy faces.” You blink slowly at him, then just as slowly pull yourself back behind the recuperacoon and hide out of sight. Cronus mutters a few curse words and resumes the quest for the hair gel. You bide you time and wait, wanting to get him at the perfect moment now that you’ve unnerved him and yet he doesn’t suspect a thing. Cronus’s footsteps head over the wood of the floor around the ‘coon and you tense, then when he appears around the corner you spring, tackling him to the ground with a loud thump and a snarl.

“What the hell—?” he yells, his wind abruptly being cut off his a whoosh of air as you land on top of him. Cronus groans and tries to push himself up so you straddle his back and hold down his shoulders. “Get off, you mad sea cowv,” he snarls.

“Gotcha, you adorabubbly fluffy seal,” you tease, purposefully throwing him off by using sea puns. As expected he stills, glancing over his shoulder in surprise, and you give him a wicked grin. Cronus yelps again, trying to thrash away because he can sense you’re planning something, but doesn’t know what and he doesn’t trust you at all. It takes quite a bit of flexibility and strength on your part to stay seated as he bucks underneath you, but one particularly hard movement nearly gets the best of you and your hand reflexively shoots out to grab the nearest thing to steady yourself. Which (oops…) happens to be the hair at the base of his horn.

Cronus keens in surprise, gasping slightly as his fins flare, and even though he’s face down and looking away from you you’re sure his eyes are as wide as nutrition plateaus. He stills, shivering, and you freeze along with him, hand reflexively tightening on the hair in your grasp. After a second of uncertainty you relax slightly, and he lets out a breath beneath you. Cronus swallows, shoulder flexing as he moves to pull an arm up next to his head, and on a whim you curl your claws into his hair and sift it between your fingers. Cronus chirps in surprise and shudders, his arm twitching uncertainly, and to be honest you aren’t sure about your actions either, but going on instinct you press your hand closer to him and palm the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his locks, the heel rubbing against the axis of his spine, and you copy the movement with your other hand as well.

You were right. It’s just as soft as it looked, and for some reason you think this is an extremely pleasing thing to discover. Your thighs relax around him, and his breathing lifts you up and down from your position on top of his chest. Grimacing self-consciously because you might be squishing him you shift yourself lower, partially expecting him to push you off now that you aren’t in a good position. But he just lays there for now, dragging his hands up to rest his head on them. His breathing is a little unsteady, likely from the exertion as yours is as well, and after another second of hesitation you slide your fingers back into his hair and rub his scalp softly. Your nails scratch at the skin under the follicles, earning an interesting, quiet warble from him. You can feel him start to tremble and pull back slightly, wondering if you’d gone too far. Cronus turns his head to look at you, only one eye barely visible, and you flush disconcertedly and look away, clearing your throat.

“S-sorry…” you mumble, leaning away and pulling your hands free. Cronus whines softly and his head leans up to follow your palms.

“No, wvait… Please, don’t stop,” he whispers. You hesitate, ears twitching at the sound of a waver underlying his voice, but put your hands back and stay quiet. He makes a sniffle as he puts his head back down, so quiet you can almost convince yourself that you never heard it at all. But you see a small drip of pale violet slip down his arm and look away at the clenching of your blood pusher.

You don’t ask.

In so many ways, you don’t need to.

It’s been so long since anybody has willingly shown him affection like this, it’s such a rare and sought after need for him, that even the smallest hint of warmth is hard for him to let go of, to give up. You don’t need to ask because you understand, and that’s why you release a small sigh of a breath and lower yourself to lay on top of his back, your cheek resting on his shoulder. His breath stills in surprise and for a second you think he’s going to ask something, but then he releases his breath on a shudder and you feel him relax. Your fingers continue to massage his scalp, slowly drifting down his neck and shoulders until your fists are clenched loosely over his shoulders, next to your head. You can hear his heartbeat, a quick flutter of the organ that perfectly reflects his uncertainty of the situation. You decide that maybe this is venturing a little further into quadrant territory than you’re comfortable with and press your lips together, sliding a hand down a couple inches over his shirt so you can push yourself up.

You leave the bottle of hair gel next to his head and move to a stand. Cronus chirps and reaches over, grabbing your arm as he sits up and pulling you onto his lap. You squeak in surprise and fall over, blushing furiously as you land with your legs intertwined with his and look away uncertainly. Cronus chuffs gratefully, arms winding around your shoulders to pull you into a tight hug. You hesitate to return the affectionate gesture, but find your arms slip around his waist anyway as he slides a hand up to your nape and presses your head to his shoulder. Cronus purrs silently, the vibrations soothing your uncertainty somewhat. His hands rub your skin soothingly and you shiver, which he seems to take as an indicator because the one on your head grips your hair loosely like you did to him. The slight tug of the hair sends tingles down your spine, only heightened through the drag of his claws over your skin. One claw tip grazes your horn and you shiver as your nerves come alive, wondering if this heady effect was the one you had on him. You swallow thickly and close your eyes against it. It feels nice… so enticing…

But after he pulls away again you can’t quite meet his eyes, regretting that you acted in such a personal fashion. He chucks your chin softly and lifts your gaze to his, his lips parting slightly as his eyes drift down to your mouth. A fang pokes out between your lips to worry the lower one in response to the fluttering in your stomach, and as he leans in you think that you might just give in this once as an apology for being so forward and not being so sure if you really meant it.

But you realize how selfish you’re being underneath that thought, and feel the slight sting of guilty tears prick the corners of your eyes. He’s not the only one whose quadrants have been neglected. But you don’t have the right to use him that way, not without being serious about it.

Your gaze skitters away right when he’s closing the distance between you, and before he can touch your lips together you raise a hand to cover his mouth. Cronus jumps a millimeter in surprise, and then sighs sadly against your palm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I can’t…”

“No, I understand. You don’t havwe to say anyfin.” His eyes glance away with hurt and embarrassment, and you feel even worse when his fins droop dejectedly. You don’t want to let him go, you want to be selfish and tell him that you’ll stay forever right now. But that isn’t true, and you know it. Despite how much he fits you, in every way you can think of.

This time when you pull away he doesn’t stop you.

… Your heart hurts…

You go to hide in the other corner of the small room, curling up on the large chair there and watching your knees sadly. It isn’t much longer until you feel his arms wrap around you comfortingly, his tall body curling around yours and holding you close. You shiver, feeling the hot prick of tears, and wait until you’ve forced them down before turning to look at him. Cronus has a contemplative expression, looking away from anything of substance as his chin rests on your shoulder. Your head is between his and the back of the chair, like he’s managed to get the rest of your body. And yet… you strangely don’t feel crowded by the situation at all. He’s too vital and reassuring a presence, and you wonder if this is that Stockholm Syndrome, where you identify with your captor and begin to like him.

You clear your throat, forcing the thoughts from your mind and making him jump a little. “You didn’t put the gel in, yet,” you murmur.

“Eh… You’vwe already seen me wvithout it. It doesn’t matter, but I’ll get it in before goin’ anywhere.” He smiles a little, lips twitching uncertainly. “Wvant to go play on the beach later? Or get some candies from the shop dowvn by the pier?”

You chuckle in an attempt to restore the humor in your usual relationship. “Sure. But which pier—the entire island is piers.”

Cronus laughs at your lame joke and flicks your forehead gently. “Guess I’ll just havwe to showv you, then.”