Work Text:
For as much as he would criticize the other two’s portrayals of Mike, it was undeniable that their presences had become familiar and comforting to Battat. He didn’t really have a lot of other relationships, and he was alone most of the time before they started running this whole operation. But now, as he sat in their room poring over the rough draft of a new script, he had Pluey curled up on his lap, humming a low note that sounded like a purr as he ran a hand through her hair.
It was definitely a lot stranger to do this when they weren’t in their cat costume and were instead just some shadowguy—it was significantly harder to pretend it wasn’t physical intimacy this way, and what he was willing to do was much more limited—but with how routine Pluey’s behaviour had become, just petting them didn’t really phase Battat anymore. Besides, she still had kitty ears for him to rub behind. It was kind of therapeutic no matter what she looked like.
After he briefly pulled his hand away to turn the page, he brought it back down to give Pluey an absentminded scritch under the chin, almost like a reward for the approximately two seconds of patience they’d displayed. Their head lolled back to invite the action as a pleased smile spread across their face and the consistent droning of music got a little louder. When Battat realized what he was doing, he tore his hand away like he’d been burned. That was something he’d usually reserve for when she was in the suit; it was way too weird otherwise. The hot flash of embarrassment running through him immediately externalized itself in a dusting of pink across his cheeks and the knee-jerk response of being mean.
He set the script down before promptly trying to push her whole body off of him. “Okay, that’s enough, you can get off me now.”
In response, Pluey just cuddled even closer to him, clearly intent on not going anywhere. Why were these knuckleheads so dead-set on never listening to him?! He was the boss! Battat knew there was no way the forceful approach was gonna work now, so he instead resorted to splaying his hand across her face and shoving it away.
“I’m doing important work, Pluey,” he snapped. He knew it was uncalled for, and he didn’t feel good about it, but the alternative of continuing to be visibly flustered was worse.
Instead of getting up like he was hoping or looking hurt like he was afraid of, the shadowguy enacted a secret third response: wrapping their hands around his wrist to pull his hand down to their mouth, and then licking his palm. He yelped as soon as he felt the wet sensation and tried to yank his hand away, but they held it steady.
“HEY!!! That’s disgusting!! Knock it off!!”
The first one had been mostly to make him stop pushing her, but now she was nuzzling into Battat’s hand as she continued to lap at it. He tried to swat them away, but nothing seemed to deter them; really, his reactions were only spurring her on. She gave a few short kitten licks all over, observing the faces he was making with great amusement, their tail swishing behind them slowly. His reactions were so intense in comparison to Jongler’s, who just accepted it, and Pluey wanted to get more out of him. He was in the middle of saying something about how this isn’t endearing without the suit when they looked directly at him and pressed their tongue flat against his skin, dragging a hot, wet line all the way across the back of his hand.
It was almost cartoonish how quickly the pippins shut up, the faint blush on his face blossoming into a deep red, complete with a wide-eyed, floored expression. A moment ago, he was just annoyed (and grossed out by the feeling of Pluey's slobber getting all over him), but all of a sudden it felt like his body temperature had shot up twenty degrees. The shadowguy hadn’t been entirely sure what reaction the other was going to have. They'd mostly thought it was just going to bother him more, and that would have been funny, too. But what was unfolding in front of her right now was much, much better.
“...What,” Battat choked out, a slightly crazed-looking smile—the one he always bore when he was especially bewildered—on his face that didn’t match the hint of fear in the rest of his features, “the heck are you doing right now???”
He was afraid, but not of Pluey. All he had to fear from her at the moment were germs and those pointed teeth (that he couldn’t help but fixate on whenever they opened their mouth). What he was really afraid of was what Pluey was doing to him. The full-body shudder he could barely repress that ran through him at that long lick. The stirring between his legs. He didn’t know what was getting into him, but it was mortifying.
Judging by the satisfied grin that had spread across her face, she seemed all too aware of what was running through his head, much to his humiliation. Her grip on his wrist loosened, now only serving to help her maneuver his hand around rather than to hold him there. So distracted that he didn’t even notice he had the ability, he made no effort to pull away. Pluey’s tongue darted out into the space between his fingers, licking up the sides of them and leaving them coated in saliva, and Battat sputtered. She tongued at his palm before trailing up the side of his thumb, allowing the digit to slip into her mouth, one of her fangs gently poking the pad of it.
“Oh, f-fuck,” slipped out of Battat’s mouth before he could help it, his mind going completely blank for a moment. His dick had gotten so hard so fast that he was lightheaded. He couldn’t help himself from moving his thumb ever-so-slightly back and forth, feeling the point of the tooth pressing into it. He was very quickly giving up on trying to make himself stop. He'd have all the time in the world to regret this later.
A pleased-sounding tone left Pluey’s mouth as they opened it wide for him to ogle at. Almost without thinking, he trailed his thumb along her teeth until he’d hooked it into the side of their mouth, pulling her cheek away to give himself an even better view. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the glistening saliva on the darkness of her tongue, the outline of fangs cast in shadow, the upturn of her lips into a smile, the wet heat of her breath… his cock was already throbbing against the fabric of his pants and nothing had even happened.
She stuck her tongue out as far as she could—oh, Angel, it was long—and savoured the way Battat’s breath hitched as his gaze fixated on it; the way it moved, the slight point at the tip of it. He was mesmerized, barely even blinking as he held their mouth open and stared and tried not to start palming himself at the sight of the saliva building up in her mouth. When he saw their throat flex as they tried to swallow it down, he almost whimpered, and when he realized she hadn’t been quite successful enough to keep from drooling, he actually did.
A breathy laugh escaped him. He felt like he was going insane. “Ha… haha… what the hell are we doing? What’s wrong with you, Plues?? What’s wrong with ME???”
Pluey responded by turning her head slightly towards the hand in her mouth, just enough to align it with one of her fangs, and then biting down with light force. It wasn’t enough to really hurt—although the pointy tooth was surely pressing a mark into his skin, it hadn’t broken it—but the shrill sound he made could have fooled anyone. Then, just as quickly (and far too soon for his liking, what a tease), they released him, drawing back to push themself up into a sitting position.
They leaned forward until they were eye-level with Battat and just inches away from his face, sliding a hand over his thigh to stabilize herself with. He barely stifled a noise at the touch, so close to his arousal, but just barely avoiding it. There was an uncomfortable dampness forming in his pants as his desperate cock leaked like a faucet—he couldn’t believe he was that close from nothing, he was pathetic—and the image that flashed in his mind of Pluey’s tongue lapping it up almost had him shooting his load then and there. He mentally promised himself that he would absolutely not cum that early, and especially not without anything even happening. Discovering what a freak he is was already embarrassing enough.
The shadowguy leaned in, tail curling behind them playfully, and licked a long stripe up Battat’s cheek, making sure to let him feel their warm breath against his skin as she held that close proximity. Then she shifted closer to his mouth and ran her tongue just over the corner of it, humming an amused note at the jumble of profanities and her name that came spilling from his lips. She drew back just barely, staring at him with a wide grin, faces so close together that the anticipation was driving him mad.
“What? What are you waiting for??” he asked so desperately it almost sounded like he was begging. “What do you want??”
A simple tune rang out from Pluey’s lips, and Battat’s expression twisted into something far too offended for someone actively spilling precum all over himself.
“YOU’RE doing all the work??? ALL YOU’RE DOING IS LICKING!!! You do that all the time anyway!”
Pluey turned their head to the side at that, producing a low note of disapproval. As much as Battat wanted to argue, he felt like he was going to die if they didn’t keep going. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her back towards him.
“Fine! Fine!!! Whatever, okay, I’ll…” he gritted out, staring at her mouth hesitatingly for a few seconds before leaning in to give her a short-lived peck. He pulled back almost immediately, and groaned when he heard them start to laugh.
Pluey purred a set of notes that pitched up at the end teasingly. Battat dug his fingers into the fabric of her suit jacket as his dick twitched.
“Yes, I know how to kiss ‘for real’!!!” he barked defensively, his face completely scorched red. “I just, don’t, have a lot of, opportunities to practice, and—”
The shadowguy playfully smiled at him, sticking their tongue out as he cut himself off. His frustration died, countenance shifting as he pulled the same blank face he always did when he was processing something. He swallowed dryly.
“...Are you, haha. Gonna put that in my mouth.” The words formed a question, but it was like he was too mindnumbingly horny at the thought to remember to add the inflection. They just came out flat and distracted as he stared at Pluey’s tongue. Rather than stating the obvious, she leaned in and pressed her tongue against his lips. The pippins made a flustered noise, but after a pause to steel himself, he parted his lips to allow her entry. She hummed happily as she snaked her tongue inside.
The second the warm, wet, soft muscle met his own, something broke in him. A mortifying wail of pleasure tore its way out of him without his permission, and he immediately started shooting cum into his pants. It had hit him so suddenly that he didn't even have the chance to feel shame over cumming so early, or from so little. He was caught completely off guard, hands scrabbling at her as he panted into her mouth and attempted to form her name even through her assault on his tongue. They weren't showing him any mercy, licking at his tongue with fervour. He tried his best to match her, even as his eyes rolled back and his head felt like it was spinning, but he couldn’t keep up; he felt like a toy that she was playing with. Their combined spit rolled down his chin in a thick stream—he would usually find that repulsive, but right now, he didn’t care at all—and landed on the front of his poncho.
"Hnngh, aah! Pluey, Pluey, g-guh—" he sobbed into her mouth, unable to form words. The most he could get out was their name whenever he had a split-second chance to breathe. He held onto her for dear life as his thighs trembled and his cock weakly spurted the last of his cum into his underwear, the crotch now completely soaked.
When they finally separated, Battat was red-faced, sweaty, and staring at nothing through glassy eyes. Pluey made a noise that he couldn’t really identify, but he lazily focused his eyes so he could look at them, and… there was a string of saliva still connecting them. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Fuh—fuck… Plues… good kitty,” he panted, reaching up to pet them. It didn’t feel so odd anymore, and she looked awfully pleased with herself.
Battat felt good, too, until he remembered exactly how pitiful a display that was on his part. He’d gotten a boner from his weirdo coworker licking his hand, given up his decorum immediately in favour of staring down their throat, and then prematurely ejaculated over one kiss. He'd promised himself he wouldn't, too! Turning to stone would feel really good right about then, he’d bet.
Pluey seemed to be able to tell that he was entering a shame spiral, because they leaned in to give his nose a lick. It was a sweet one, a gentle display of affection and reassurance. They nuzzled their head against his, and then curled right back up on his lap where she’d started. The purring began near-instantly, and… well, it was actually helping. He tried not to let his face betray it, but the endearment was certainly there. He just hoped she wouldn't tell Jongler.
“Okay, now you REALLY can’t stay there. I need to get up,” he lightly scolded them. He really didn’t want to say it out loud, but sitting here covered in cum was starting to feel very miserable, very quickly.
Pluey didn’t move, though. She’d already won the battle to defend her spot, and now she was reaping the spoils. Battat was too weak to argue right now, so he just huffed and let his hand find its way back into her hair. It's a cat's world, and he was just living in it.