The Heat Behind His Eyes

The Heat Behind His Eyes - Chapter 13

We head back toward the city as soon as Konoe appears at the cave's entrance.

My pace is fast, my strides long; I can hear the smaller cat's shuffling footsteps trying to keep up, but I won't be slowing my pace. I'm irritated and annoyed. I start making a list.

* That shaman wouldn't keep his hands off my Sanga.
* The shaman called out my "devotion" to Konoe. And he took full advantage of it, playing with my emotions.
* It's irritating that I feel so possessive of this small cat struggling to keep up with me.
* While we have a goal now, I'm irritated that we didn't find the shaman through my strength alone. I feel like I should have been more impressive.
* Sure, Sanga and Touga are supposed to work together, and yes, he's done well this time. So why doesn't this feel better? What am I looking for? What do I want?

My internal reverie is temporarily interrupted by loud breathing, near panting, coming from behind me. Of course, it's Konoe. I'm walking fast on purpose, trying to exhaust him, trying to keep him from starting in on endless chatter.

Also, I didn't like the look I saw on his face when he emerged from the cave. He looked even more discouraged, more uncertain, more confused than when we arrived. He should be glad we have a plan. Why isn't he?

My list continues:

* Am I really a danger to this Sanga, like the shaman said?
* I need more power—power, and strength—to overcome this... insanity that is within me.
* I need this Sanga to help me find and kill that devil who took my eye. With his aid I could easily defeat him—I just know it.
* Will I be unable to make a true bond with this Sanga? Just like I've been unable to make a lasting bond with any cat? I've never felt connected to anyone, not even my parents.
* But this cat feels different. He has a warmth—a heat—I've never seen or experienced from any other being.

The huffing and panting behind me is distracting in a way I don't want to admit. It sounds... almost sexual. Plus, I can smell his scent.

Quite unexpectedly, I feel a shiver run down my spine, which heads straight into my hips. I don't vary my pace, but that breathing gets louder in my ears anyway. My hair tickles me, waving softly in the breeze, and I wonder how it would feel to have that panting close to my neck, mixing in with strands of my hair.

I roll my head on my shoulders, giving my neck a stretch and pop, and deliberately fluffing my hair out. Is it my imagination, or has his scent become much stronger the past few days we've been together? Is this because the approaching mating season? My imagination starts to wander...

His breath—hot, bothered, out of control—breathing against my neck.
His face buried deep in my hair, grabbing a fistful, holding tight, giving it a sharp tug, because he can't control himself.
My nose in his hair, indulging in his sweet scent.
My lips against his ear, my tongue searching out the soft, downy fur on the inside. My hands snaking around his body, following his narrow waist, then slinking around to his perfectly rounded backside, resting one at the curve of his lower back, and letting the other sink lower—down to that indentation where his ass and legs meet, pulling him in close to me.
His breathing changes now—this young cat has no experience, and no self-control. He can't disguise the pleasure he feels when I press his body against mine.
He feels my erect cock against his—most likely he's intimidated by its size, but is unable to resist me.
His ear will tickle a little—it's adorable that his inexperience shows like this.
His responses are so obvious, so audible, cute little utterances leak from his throat. The ear I'm assaulting flicks down, trying to escape my tongue, and he shrugs his shoulder, tilting his head slightly.
But that move plays right into my hands—or my mouth, in this case—because before he can even blink, I take his mouth with mine.
His lips are soft, full and plush—and I bet he's never been kissed before.
I will be his first, his only, and his best.
I lick the outside of his lips first—which earns me a high pitched mewl, and it surprises him enough to part them for me, just a little.
When he allows my tongue entrance, I trace the lines of those sharp little fangs he's so fond of showing me.
He tilts his head back when I fully enter his mouth, using my tongue to explore his tongue—small and muscular—andresistant.
He tastes slightly of honey, like the color of his eyes.
He smells so good.
His inexperience won't allow him to close his eyes, so I can see his pupils blown wide, sexy, out of control, through my own half-lidded eyes, while his mouth is being taken by mine.
His breathing is coming even harder now, threaded through with purring vocalizations without meaning.
Well, I understand their meaning, and I respond in kind, kissing him harder, faster,rougher—taking more of him, feeling his body and breath melt into mine, feeling his hands trying to grasp my hair and hold onto my back—but failing.
He's unable to maintain his composure—he is falling completely into the kiss now, allowing all of himself to be taken, letting my breath become his, a purr reciprocating in the back of my throat, only much deeper, much lower than his.
Our single first kiss... it's a promise of what lies ahead.
I'm taking him, filling him, perhaps frightening him a little, but it's tantalizing as well —and I remind him of what's to come, pulling his lower back closer against my body, feeling his stiffening cock pressing against mine, and the soft purr hopeless in his throat. All are in response to me, to my touches, to my ministrations.