credits to @noiz
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Himedanshi Ricky had just come back from the store, holding a bag full of new yuri, his hands gripping tightly on the plastic as he let out a soft sigh. Him and Rickys relationship not necessarily going too well, and he hoped that this gift would settle the fire that seemed to never extinguish between their consistent arguments.

Himedanshi Ricky hesitantly reached for the doorknob, only to pause as he heard the familiar sound of a collar jingle. And.. Two voices? Did Ricky have a friend over? Himedanshi pressed his ear against the door, his heart sinking to his stomach at what he heard.

"Collars and chaos. Couldn't imagine you any other way."

Anger flooded Himedanshis veins, his grip on the doorknob tightening against the metal as he bursted into the room. "What are you doing?!" He screamed, catching both Whisker and Ricky in the act. His Ricky. On his knees for some false alpha.

"Daddy, it's not what he looks like!" Ricky explained, scrambling to stand up as he backed away from Whisker, feeling a pang of guilt as he saw the tears form in Himedanshi Rickys eyes

credits to @gwinam
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The tension between them had long since settled into something heavier—something unspoken but ever-present. Whiskar lay stretched across Ricky’s couch, his head resting against a pillow, one arm draped lazily over his stomach. The soft leather of his collar pressed against his throat with every breath, a constant reminder of Ricky’s touch from earlier.

Ricky sat beside him, one leg tucked under the other, watching him with that same knowing smirk. But this time, his eyes kept flickering downward, to the gentle curve of Whiskar’s stomach.

“You’re staring,” Whiskar muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

Ricky chuckled, low and smug. “Can you blame me?”

A warm hand pressed against his belly, rubbing slow circles over the taut skin. The touch was firm but careful, almost reverent. Whiskar tensed for half a second before melting into it, exhaling a soft sigh.

“Didn’t take you for the doting type,” he murmured.

Ricky snorted. “Don’t get used to it.” His fingers kneaded a little deeper, his thumb stroking absently over the spot where Whiskar’s skin stretched the most. “But I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t kind of adorable.”

Whiskar cracked an eye open, shooting him a lazy glare. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Ricky smirked, leaning in closer. “Call you cute? Say you’re practically purring right now?”

“I am not—”

“Kitty.”

Whiskar’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers curled against the couch cushions.

Ricky grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Told you it suits you.” His hand didn’t stop moving, slow and deliberate as he pressed a little more firmly against the swell of Whiskar’s belly. “And you’re being so good for me right now.”

Whiskar swallowed hard, heat creeping up his neck. “You—”

“What?” Ricky’s voice was mock-innocent, but his smirk gave him away. “Did I say something wrong, kitty?”

Whiskar hated how easily the name got under his skin, how it sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. He bit back the urge to react—Ricky didn’t need more ammunition—but the way his breath hitched betrayed him.

Ricky laughed softly, rubbing another slow circle over his stomach. “Relax,” he murmured, voice lower now, smoother. “You should enjoy it while it lasts. Before you know it, you’ll be too busy running around after them to stretch out like this.”

Whiskar exhaled, letting his eyes slip shut again. “…You sound like you’re looking forward to it.”

Ricky’s fingers lingered for just a moment longer before he leaned back, smirk still firmly in place. “Well,” he said, voice teasing, “someone’s gotta make sure they inherit my talent for pissing people off.”

Whiskar huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the last thing we need.”

“Too late,” Ricky said, smug as ever. “We’ve already got one little menace on the way. Might as well make it two.”

Whiskar sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I hate you.”

Ricky just grinned. “No, you don’t.”

And, annoyingly, he was right.

Whiskar toyed with the silver ring on his collar, feeling the weight of it against his throat as he leaned back into Ricky’s couch. The leather was snug but not uncomfortable—just tight enough to remind him it was there. Not that he needed the reminder. Ricky had been making sure of that for the past ten minutes, smirking at him from across the room like he had something to say but was drawing out the anticipation just to watch Whiskar squirm.

Finally, Ricky exhaled a short laugh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You really outdid yourself this time,” he said, eyes gleaming with amusement. “They were foaming.”

Whiskar tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Who?”

Ricky raised a brow. “Don’t play dumb.” He reached out and tugged lightly on the ring of Whiskar’s collar, the touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down his spine. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Whiskar grinned, sharp and satisfied. “Maybe.”

“Oh, definitely.” Ricky’s voice was low, almost a purr. “The way you worded that meaningless point? You set them up perfectly. And then just—” He made a flicking motion with his fingers, mimicking a match being struck, an explosion in its wake. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

Whiskar preened under the praise, the warmth in Ricky’s tone sinking deep into his skin. “It was almost too easy,” he admitted, stretching his arms above his head, the motion making his collar shift against his throat. “You’d think they’d learn by now.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to have your fun.” Ricky smirked. “And we do love watching them lose their minds over nothing.”

Whiskar hummed, pleased, as Ricky’s fingers lingered near his collar again, just barely brushing against the leather. He could feel the warmth of them, deliberate yet teasing, like Ricky knew the exact effect he was having.

“You wear this well,” Ricky murmured, thumb grazing the metal ring. “Suits you.”

Whiskar’s pulse quickened, but he kept his expression cool. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Ricky tugged—just enough for Whiskar to feel the pull. His smirk widened. “Collars and chaos. Couldn’t imagine you any other way.”

Whiskar let out a slow breath, his smirk matching Ricky’s now. “Good thing I don’t plan on changing.”

“Good,” Ricky murmured, voice dripping approval. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither of them needed to say it, but they both knew: the game was only just beginning.