sheep_game | everything is fine?

[INTO ROOM

eyes closed

flops on his man]

. . . What're you doin'?

[ not about the flopping which he is helpfully responding with by looping his arms around the other's waist immediately. why are ur eyes closed dude ]

[Prrtttt nuzzling into]

Ain't that obvious? Sparing ya.

. . .

. . .

. . .

[ presses his palms to biscuit's cheeks ]

You're gonna do this for five days??

[ HELLO??? UNACCEPTABLE. LOOK AT ME RIGHT NOW ]

I can sleep loads just like you.

[as he rubs face into Tart's palms with a tired little huff]

Unless ya want me to lookit ya.

[ OBVIOUSLY the PROBLEM HERE is that i want you to look at me what could POSSIBLY be more important than that ]

Edited 2023-12-05 04:58 (UTC)

[ wait he can't read my expression right now i have to use my words ]

[ that's too inconvenient ]

Lookit me.

[opens eyes up slowly, keeping face in Tart's hands

look at that sexy annoyed face. What a treat. What a prince. True love.

...

tips head to nip Tart's palm :3]

[ welcome to tartbrain it's very sleepy in here and very singularly focused on one(1) hyena. fussy baby lonely feelings at first—it's not super coherent, not structured in full sentences so much as like a flowing river made up of half-formed thoughts with attached emotions like tones, like 'don't like it' (annoyed) and 'biscuit's eyes' (want) and 'look at me' (lonely) and 'look at me' (annoyed) and 'five whole days??' (sulky)

when he sees biscuit's opened them the river shifts and grows deeper, 'biscuit's eyes' (!!!) and 'blue' (like) and 'droopy' (like) and 'pupils shrinking' (observation), 'round face' (like) and 'fluffy hair' (like) and 'scent' (like) and 'soft' (like) and 'warm' (like) and 'warm' (dislike)

'he opened them' (relief) and 'finally' (annoyed) 'biscuit's eyes' (like) and 'look at me' (want) and 'look at me' (lonely) and 'why did this happen' (curiosity) and 'could squish his face' (impulse) and 'who's responsible' (annoyed) and 'biscuit's eyes' (like)

'looking at me' (soft) 'he's looking at me' (soft) 'reading my thoughts?' (curious) 'right now?'—at which point the river splits in two: there's the steady, main current of what he can hear and see and smell of biscuit, and a slower, more thoughtful stream that reflects the mind reading and the mechanics thereof in more coherent thoughts, like 'can he see words?' 'is it more like hearing?' 'what does it look like?' 'can he hear me?' 'does it smell like anything?' 'i'm curious' 'does biscuit smell like magic?' 'is it dangerous?' 'ritual?' 'will there be any ill effects on him?' 'i want to try' and many, many, many half-remembered recollections of spells and potions and artifacts that could give the same effect as well as various historical events that talked about mind reading and the veracity of those events

meanwhile in the main current, 'nipped me' (like) and 'cute' (like) and 'cute' (like) 'soft lips' (like) and 'cute' (like) and 'cute' (like) and 'teeth' (like) 'cute' (like) and 'cute' (like) and 'eyes' (like) and 'kiss' (like) have all entered the chat and then some.

slowly blinks, giving a satisfied huff—only now does he outwardly emote approval for biscuit opening his eyes while his brain is already partly thinking about kissing him or maybe squishing his face (but he should really figure out what happened first) or maybe breathing in more biscuit smell or maybe kissing him and 'is he reading my mind yet?' (waiting) with the subconscious expectation that biscuit will surely tell him if he is ]

[Oh that's. a lot. It's so much. Flushing deep red as he gets flooded with that sudden onslaught of. Thoughts mixed with affection. And its one thing to know Tart likes him, feel it through his words and his touch and his actions. Its another to be touched with all those feelings head on, have them poured back into him. Its overwhelming in a way that makes his heart want to burst

But it also gives Biscuit an easy direction, an answer to that face and that wondering. And its something he wants as well

Hyena leaning forward to press their lips together, a soft kiss, timid with a bit of wonder at what kinds of feelings and thoughts that'll stir]

[ the answer is: for a brief moment he just stops thinking entirely

briefly some vague thought that this is a notable kiss somehow and curiosity toward that, why is it notable, oh, usually if he wants to kiss he'll just kiss but this time biscuit did it before he could, it's like he read his mind

oh! then he can read his mind right now! the tiniest bit of self-reflecting (self-conscious) on what he's thinking about (namely, biscuit) but it's a very weak thought with an even weaker emotion that's immediately just snuffed out by the thought that like, yeah, it would be kinda terrible (but convenient) if someone else could read his mind right now but he's not particularly bothered by biscuit reading this (trust), these are just thoughts about biscuit after all, and CLEARLY HE HAS ADEQUATELY AND HONESTLY EXPRESSED HIMSELF ENOUGH THAT NONE OF THESE THOUGHTS WOULD BE REMOTELY SURPRISING (confident)

that's what really occupies the pause between biscuit initiating the kiss and tart reciprocating it—when his mind turns to the kiss (love) he presses his lips back (love), a relaxed breath out through his nose (love) while his hands run up against the other's back and head (want), hand settling against fluffy peppered locks (want) while he breathes in (want) and luxuriates in the sensation (want, love)—

but even with all that there's curiosity too; he hasn't closed his eyes (how will biscuit react?) but his eyelids do droop halfway (does it feel different for him now?) (his face is warm) (he's blushing) (he can definitely read my mind) (does it feel good?)—that thought's punctuated with a press against biscuit's back as he presses himself up, legs shifting to tangle with the hyena's now in the desire to become closer. there's the realization that biscuit, like this, must surely only be thinking about tart right now (good) (is he overwhelmed?) (good) (think about me) (think about only me) and the idea that biscuit could be affected by reading tart's mind is electric; it lights a fire in his stomach that burns bright and he wants to know, he wants to know more

and 'does it feel good?' (curious) and 'does it feel good?' (want), 'show me' (want) and 'give me more' (want), all blanketed by a heavy feeling of possessiveness, his his his his his biscuit, his hyena, his ]

[Settling into the kiss, loving the feeling of being tangled together and pressed closed. The constant feedback that overwhelms him with approval and want and love love love Tart loves him he loves him he wants him and more more he can give that so easily and in return he can keep drowning in these thoughts

Gets more aggressive, a bit toothy, hands grabbing onto hair and tugging. Little purrs vibrating into Tart every time a breathy kiss pauses

And Biscuit has such a red face and his own eyes are lidded and he wishes Tart could read his mind back, feel the way all of Tart's want swallows him whole]

Edited 2023-12-05 14:23 (UTC)

[ fortunately or maybe unfortunately for biscuit tart does not need to read his mind to know that biscuit's having a time with this. most definitely does not need to read his mind to see how bad it's affecting him, and there's a sadistic sort of pleasure in that—not in a cruel way, not in an unkind way, but in the possessive way, the warmth of feeling like he really does matter to someone and then wanting to dig more into that. he wants to see how bad it could get—how far he could push it, really test the boundaries. not to hurt biscuit, but because he's so greedy for every single sliver of space that he can get from him, to get as close to 100% as possible by as many decimal digits as possible

getting more aggressive in turn—there's some delight to the teeth in the river of thoughts, an appreciation for the rougher treatment (and some slight arrogance too—like, 'that doesn't even hurt' or like 'i can barely feel that'), and tart's happy to bite back, happy to press more, considers maybe rolling over to really pin biscuit down and keep him all to himself and never let him go,

and he knowwwwwwwwwwwwwwsssssssssssss he should make that shepherd phone calllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll but maybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee he doesn't waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant tooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo maybe he just wants to do thisssssssssssssssssss aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy only kissesssssssssssss only biscuitttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt ]

[little yip into the kiss as they roll over. breaks the kiss but its to catch neck in teeth, hold tight as he pulls on handfuls of hair. as if to snap back at the notion of it barely being able to be felt. how dare you. respect his teeth. respect his force. fucking rude. little growl as he presses teeth in harder.

cube call whomst

dont even know her]

[ oh no

actually if there's maybe anything that's a little embarrassing about the mindreading is that now biscuit really gets to feel the unfiltered excitement tart gets from getting bitten by hyena. like—it's not masochism, it's not like he's that keen on the pain, but it's just so like

my biscuit is so dangerous (love)
my biscuit is so dangerous (love)
my biscuit is so dangerous (love)
my biscuit is so dangerous (love)

dangerous (love) predator (love) deadly (love) hyena teeth (love) dangerous (mine) predator (mine) deadly (mine) hyena teeth (mine) dangerous (love) predator (love) deadly (love) hyena teeth (love) dangerous (mine) predator (mine) deadly (mine) hyena teeth (mine)

there is the tiniest vague thought of 'did i do something to make biscuit mad' (curious) but it is entirely overwhelmed by love for biscuit teeth and then being self-aware that biscuit can read all this but not feeling like. self-conscious enough to feel sincerely embarrassed or anything. it's certainly a vulnerable thing—there are stray self-preservation thoughts of 'what if he bites too hard' or 'oh i could die right now' and the urge to do something about it to protect himself, but

maybe what keeps him at this balance of excitement and delight and love is that arrogance—misplaced confidence that he could survive this—or, maybe it's just

trust?

this is less thought and more instinct—surely if he thought about it, surely if he made the conscious effort to be aware, then his mind would naturally go to a cascade of threat neutralizing plans and probability calculations and whatnot. but at least right now, while he doesn't know why biscuit's biting him more except that he's probably feeling more frisky, tart has no real thought toward seriously assessing the risks in this situation even though he is very much aware of how formidable biscuit and his teeth are. despite this clear understanding, this weight, this respect toward his teeth—there's some irrational confidence that biscuit won't tear his throat out, not because of anything tart did or didn't prepare but because—

because it's his biscuit. some things just don't need a reason.

. . . and—there's a messed up sort of excitement to the prospect of a hyena killing a lion, too. his own twisted love-and-hate-and-resentment-and-love for the ○○○○○○○○○○○ name and the royal family and his place in it and how this moment, nay, this whole relationship, feels like taking the royal lion crest and dragging it through the mud—and it brings a twisted pleasure, a depraved sort of joy and thrill. unfortunately he's fucked up

breathes out slow, a deep rumble against biscuit's teeth as he murmurs—still oblivious to having slighted the other, tart's tone is soft (love) and at the same time heavy with desire, with a little edge of egging him on (want), ]

. . . Biscuit . . .

[ call whomst ]

Edited 2023-12-08 00:07 (UTC)

[drags teeth across neck, tipping head just so a canine leaves a thin line of blood in its wake

but he does draw off of Tart. hands moving to cover his red face now as he tries to hide how overwhelmed he feels. his heart is pounding out of his chest it feels like?? gasping for breaths to try to clear his head, pull him out the thick muddle of his own want tangled up with Tart's want]

M'drowning in ya.

[ good

grins despite his own fluster—he thinks it's a shame for biscuit to hide his face, he doesn't want that, he wants to see it, he wants to see his face, he wants to see everything, and he nearly decides to move biscuit's hands away himself but instead

decides

instead he's going to lie down on top of this hyena and think about how much he wants to see his face and how biscuit should move his hand and love love love love love want want want love want love want want want

because it would be easy to physically move him but biscuit uncovering his own face himself, of his own volition, because tart wants him to, that's really really really really really really good and he really wants it

:3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3

rumbles a purr while his tail sways from side to side and he makes himself comfortable, very very very close to biscuit's face. does not respond verbally because now he's waiting :3 ]

[how dare this asshole

fussy huff from under his hands, sulking!!! about this lion!!!!!

but the siren call--or rather the force of Tart's needy and loving feelings--has him eventually moving his hands slowly from his face. still flushed, looking aside as if meeting eyes would overwhelm him even further]

[ he's so excited from this his tail's starting to wag back and forth, gentle but quick arcs with his tuft thudding against the bed

very, very pleased, feeling pretty powerful but also more than that feeling so loved, and there's a very distinct sense from how his pupils shrink and then expand that tart's burning the sight of biscuit's face now into his memory—one only needs to look to his river of thoughts to confirm, as he rakes through every part of his face and expression piece by piece with an accompanying thought of affection and like and love and want and cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute cute

there's also a very strong sense of, in his affection, a desire to reward a very good hyena boy, and he shifts to run a hand up against the other's hair, strokes his cheek and murmurs, ]

Good boy.

[ (good boy) ]

The goodest....

[help he's drowning even more. voice faint, feeble. lion too powerful. reaching with one hand to try to lace fingers together with Tart's free hand. rough skin pressing against the finer skin harshly, no thoughts towards soft touches or sly fingers]

Yer happy.

[ letting his hand be held, and holding his hand in return—there's a brief thought registering the rough skin, not just texturally but the significance of the rough skin.

these are working hands. working hands that have seen and done so much and have built up all these scars and souvenirs as a result—and tart loves that about biscuit's hands, loves that about biscuit. the indomitable spirit of savanaclaw, the tireless tenacity of the hyena—no wonder they were the friends of the king of beasts. it's not surprising that people would be blind to such treasures—the world is made of fools—but of course a wise king like the king of beasts would recognize the strength and value in hyenas.

who cares about pretty, delicate flowers? who cares about useless eye candy? more beautiful and worthy than those fragile things are the weeds, the dandelions that dig deep into the earth with strong roots and bloom even in times of adversity. the tough, hardy plants that most find to be annoyances—but actually hold such great value to the ecosystem, to the soil and to the pollinators, to the circle of life. and that value is what tart finds in his heart to be what 'beauty' means—the same is how he feels about biscuit's hands. coarse, humble, unimpressive at first glance—but so tenacious, so sturdy, so useful, so valuable. all this, and so worthy of love ]

[ pauses—like, straight up did not register what biscuit said because he was too busy thinking about his hands. mentally recalling . . . ]

. . . Yeah?

[ with some amusement to his voice—internally it's just a mild surprise and nothing more than that. mostly just that he doesn't generally think about his own feelings beyond whether he's in a good mood or foul—but when he thinks about it,

yeah. that does make sense, doesn't it?

so he teases, purr to his voice, ]

Wonder why?

[he's still very overwhelmed but can't help but answer with a simple and pleased and maybe a touch smug:]

S'me.

[the hyena you treasure. something rough as he is. but Tart sees the beauty of something rough and sharp.

Something rugged

And that's. Soothing. Its feels good to know it so thoroughly, have the truth of it seep into him. Something that later can become armor when stuck in a palace where he may not feel enough]

Mmmh.

[ pleased by the response—it might not have flustered biscuit but confidence is attractive and so is smugness and they both look good on biscuit and his face is good (love) and his scent is good (love) and he could just huff it all day

he's going to huff his scent right now

love love love love love ]

everything is fine?

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

1/3

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Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

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Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

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Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

1/2 it was so gay i had to split it into two parts

Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

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Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao

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Re: cubecall @ daffodil + maomao