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.