[ the lack of patience is fine - after getting looked at like that, jiaoqiu can barely stay still. there's something about that moment of eye contact that makes his whole body burn, makes his heart feel like it's going to explode in his chest - he does not complain for a second when therion decides no more waiting.
and he doesn't swear, but the noise he lets out is a little strangled, breathless, when therion starts to move. he's immediately lost in it, too turned on to speak, and the slow, rough pace makes his head spin. makes his breath catch with each push forward, makes him hold therion a little closer. without any hesitation, he loops his arm under and over therion's shoulder, and digs his claws into his shoulder blades, threatening to claw. this is exactly what he wants right this second, this pace, something bruising and deep, something that coaxes breathy whimpers from his lips. the pressure is perfect, the slight ache, the way he knows he's going to have bruises and the way the friction makes his thoughts scatter away from him by the handful each time therion shows him that he knows exactly how to move his hips.
his thighs flex where they're pressed against warm, damp skin, and he ignores his own rule to not put too much pressure on his bad leg in order to wrap his legs around therion's waist, giving himself leverage, giving therion a better angle. anything, to make it easier for therion to twitch inside him again like he did, to find the spot he'd curled his fingers into earlier.
and after a moment, he has the rhythm down enough to meet him. the first time he rocks up to meet therion, the rush of heat that floods through him has him letting out a desperate sort of moan that he tries to turn his head and bury into the pillow. ]
[ okay, he should probably be paying attention to the way jiaoqiu moves, considering he knows that he's injured, but alas, he is not. all that pops into his head when jiaoqiu's leg comes up to wrap both around his waist like a vice is that that feels good, that the new angle lets him get a little deeper, makes that slide of friction harsher, buries him down to the hilt. both of his eyes screw shut, mouth involuntarily opening on a gasp. he snakes his hand free between them and rests it on jiaoqiu's hip, fingertips digging in familiarly, so he feels the motion when jiaoqiu rolls back up to meet him.
that's perfect. his back arches into where his claws are buried in his skin, feeling the sharp scratch just on the surface level and letting it send ripples of pleasure down his spine, another set of sensation to add to each deep thrust. he snaps his hips forward when jiaoqiu rocks, meets him halfway and breathes out, harsh, dropping lower over him. he's close enough that he could kiss him, but moving too much, reacting too much to do so, but therion tucks his face against the side of jiaoqiu's, nearly going for the kiss anyway and settling for his mouth pressing to his jaw when he turns his head. he can feel the vibration when jiaoqiu moans, and that's good, too - he lets that, the smell of them both tangled into this moment, sweat and sex, the sound of their skin harshly meeting skin fill up his senses.
when it feels like jiaoqiu's steadied, therion meets him - picks up the pace. just as deep, but a little faster, bringing him along instead of expecting him to follow. an act of together, an act of intimacy, instead of a rush to get to the finish line, instead of dragging each other along.
(and its nice, really. his hand hasn't left his.) ]
[ he wants to kiss him, is the thing. he wants to be kissing him, wants to get his tongue in his mouth and let him swallow up all his moans, but he thinks he might drown if he did. he's already a little overwhelmed. so he forgoes that, but when therion rests his head against jiaoqiu's, his hand slides up from his back to rest against the nape of therion's neck, keeping him there. it's a fragile thing, hand a touch shaky, more gentle than the movement of their hips. he doesn't have to focus to kiss him the way he wants, but his heart squeezes at the intimacy of therion's lips on his jaw.
and it's different, this time, he keeps realizing. it's not a brutal, frantic affair. not that he dislikes those - incredibly the opposite. every time he manages to goad therion into driving into him face first into the mattress, yanking his tail, pulling his hair, it's divine. but this is so, so good, too. this feels like care. this feels like affection, like an expression of what they mean to each other.
therion's so close to him, almost chest to chest. his stomach brushes against jiaoqiu's, the heat of him radiating over jiaoqiu's skin. if he pushes up at the right angle his cock rubs against his abdomen, caught between them, and that makes him keen a little, but he's not as interested in that. he thinks that if they keep at this pace, he could come untouched. he could come from therion gasping against his ear, from the scent of both of them mingled together, from the way therion's whole body rolls against his, muscles lean and lithe, dexterous. his hand on jiaoqiu's hip is hot and steadying all at once, and jiaoqiu takes special care to really roll his hips up into each movement so therion can feel him full-bodied. already, he feels so full - the angle therion's got him at is so dangerously close to driving him up the wall, but he's not shifting to help get there. he likes this, likes the steady drag of therion's cock inside him, and the lava burn build up of arousal, rather than the flash flood.
just a little faster. he follows easily, and he whines a bit, needy, nosing at therion. tries to press their foreheads together, because he wants therion to hear his sounds in stereo, because he wants to be close enough to press their lips together when he starts to get close, because he wants both of them to come with their fingers laced together and their breath intermingled. he's getting there, his noise starting to turn a little pleading. ]
[ the hand at the nape of his neck is such an intimate touch that it's striking. after all, therion keeps his neck covered - the places on his body that are vulnerable, soft and sensitive. he's so guarded in every aspect of his life that he keeps shields physically and mentally, pushes others out with barbs and thick walls. but here, stripped bare, he lets jiaoqiu's touch fall somewhere just as fragile as the touch that lands there. he lets him hold him there, a tenuous one but all the more strong for it, and jiaoqiu can feel the way he shivers when his hand settles there. these tender, intimate touches are always the things that get to him, the things that have made him make a single noise in the past - one, single time where he couldn't control himself, desperately in need of the kind of tenderness that he'd never, ever ask for.
so jiaoqiu, claws at his neck, holds therion - free spirit, untenable - in place, and he wants it there. there's another harsh, desperate breath and his pace goes erratic, briefly, throwing off the rhythm of their bodies moving together because it gets him. he recovers quickly, using the stutter to arch his hips back fully, head sliding out of him fully, catching on his rim before he picks it back up again. getting closer to him means he has to bump his hips up to make up for their height difference, to bend jiaoqiu a little more than he might normally, but the angle change's good here, too. curled over the top of him, in this tiny, intimate space, he meets him there. he presses his forehead to his, musses up his bangs, puts his ugly eye scar and his busted eye out there to be seen.
and that's intense enough that he breathes out on a thrust inwards, as he pulls jiaoqiu's hips up pressed close to him, and manages a just this side of desperate - ] God, fuck, Jiaoqiu -
[ for once. no noises, but that's desperation enough. it's need enough. he doesn't know what he's doing, praising him or asking for something or giving him something or all of the above, overwhelmed with a feeling of closeness that's extremely unfamiliar but wanted so badly, overwhelmed with their laced fingers and what it feels like to be safe, to be loved. ]
[ at first, he thinks there's something wrong, in the way therion stutters. for a split second, he's empty and it feels wrong - and then therion bends him nearly in half and fucks fully back into him, and the angle makes jiaoqiu make a noise that almost sounds like his tail got stepped on. instinctively, his hand slides away from therion's neck to his back and claws down his back, rakes red lines down his shoulder as he writhes at the pleasure of it. therion hits that spot inside him almost dead on each time he moves, and jiaoqiu is dizzy with it, holding therion's hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. he's tight around therion, legs shaking slightly, tail jittering - his whole body is tensed up, like a wire ready to snap, the heat overwhelming.
but. he hears - something, in that breath, in his name, and he's not entirely sure what it is, but he's there too. he almost feels like he could cry, his world centered around the two of them, the sound of the bed squeaking under them, the rustling of the sheets, the sound of therion's skin sliding against his own, damp with sweat. chest to chest, heart to heart, with a trust that they've both built so solidly. his heart is pounding in his chest. he feels something so wildly bright and loving that it scares him a little, but he's so alive, he's never been more present.
and so he responds, they press their foreheads together and jiaoqiu catches sight of therion's scar, of another shared intimacy, and shakily his hand comes down around to rest his hand on therion's cheek, cupping it, keeping him there. it's not a kiss, but it's close enough, and it's just them in this small space, jiaoqiu's heart getting ahead of his mouth. ]
Good, that's it, you feel - oh, you're so good, darling, Therion -- [ he whispers, and he never really talks during sex but he can't help himself, he's hurtling towards a climax and he needs therion right there with him. breathlessly, voice as desperate as therion's, caught between calling his name and frantically telling him he's close, he's right there.
fall with him. it's okay, he'll catch therion when he does. ]
[ if primrose is around, therion is never going to hear the end of it because that was loud, but that's the last thing he's thinking about right now. the feeling of the claws in his back combined with the loud noise and the way jiaoqiu tightens around him makes the heat building, building in his gut nearly double, and he's starting to lose the ability to keep that controlled pace going as the instinctual desire to reach that climax wins over the need to go slower. he picks up speed, still aiming at that same angle but giving into the urge to take, giving into the drag of the friction and the tight, wet heat that jiaoqiu gives to him.
which is good, because it's a good distraction from that little pet name. now there's something he hasn't heard before, and it almost knocks him on his ass. he's barely conscientious enough to realize it, but his face screws up a little against jiaoqiu's hand - forehead to forehead, breath mingling, his hand tightens where he's holding onto jiaoqiu's hips. therion won't come until he can push jiaoqiu over the edge, only because it's the final way his body tightens around him that's enough. he drives the pace, more, more, harder, and --
--and therion's the one to surge forward and kiss jiaoqiu, because it lets him muffle a tiny, desperate noise, a groan into his mouth, because that's the only way he can let himself do so, the only way he can let himself let go. he might never be coaxed into being so honest, but this is so much progress, to let himself be actually unraveled, to be as bare as he can possibly be beyond skin to skin. it is something loving - it's letting himself be loved, letting himself be caught. and it's terrifying, but thank god, therion can't think about that right now, either, because his vision briefly whites out when he finally does come, burying deep inside of jiaoqiu as he does. ]
[ the pet name slips out and he'll think about it later, think about how he didn't really even mean to say it. he meant it, and he might be too shy to say it again, but he meant it, something, someone so precious to him.
it's okay - he's right there with therion, there's no way he's lasting. he says he's close and it's maybe two seconds later that therion takes his mouth, and it's enough. the spark of heady, overwhelming heat of therion releasing inside him and the sound of the desperate noise swallowed up by his lips is enough to push him right over the edge, without even having to be touched. jiaoqiu comes with a gasping, stuttering moan, a garbled mess of keening noise and therion's name. makes an absolute mess of both their stomachs, his legs tightening around therion's waist to pull him in, press him as deep as he can go. stay. stay there. the pure, feral instinct that's taken over wants him to take, to claim, and he's not particularly inclined to argue it, body fuzzy and mind totally blank with the remaining dregs of pleasure. he leaves claw marks wherever he's gripping, at therion's back or his arm or whatever he grabs when he finishes.
and as they ride it out, shakily twitching his hips up with each pulse, jiaoqiu finally lets go of therion's hand, but only so he can hold him, instead. catch him, so to speak. he brings both arms around therion and clings, breathing him in. forehead to forehead, panting raggedly. he can barely catch his breath, whole body trembling with the aftershocks. one hand slides up therion's back and into his hair, just to tangle there loosely, to cradle him. ]
[ he feels jiaoqiu come more than he sees it - feels the mess between their stomachs and the clench of his muscles, and as he rides his own release out, stuttering to a conclusion, he makes another noise into his mouth, quiet, and another, until he shudders, until jiaoqiu has drained him dry. forehead to forehead, close, so close, intertwined in every way possible, as intimate as intimacy can possibly be, held into place.
for now, the world comes back to fuzzy focus, bit by bit, the initial high of the climax itself slowly coming down in a haze of warmth, of closeness. he can't hold himself up, and therion eases himself down on shaky arms, not caring if he ends up getting messier in the process. there's something so soul-soothing about the arms that curl around him, that thread into his hair, across the claw marks and old scratches on his back. when he falls, lets himself into that soft and tender sweetness, to melt into something soft instead of to crash and fall into the ground.
he's intimately aware of the hand jiaoqiu was holding. it flexes in the sheets, curling tight, and after a beat, he shifts his arm to rest his forearm near his head, a pin in the gentlest sense of the word - more like caging in, more like holding him there, like he might disappear if he doesn't. he says nothing, just exhales, a "haaah" noise, for the sake of trying to put up a tiny, tiny bit of his cool back after being stripped so bare. ]
[ therion eases down, and jiaoqiu sighs, a noise that's utterly content. he's practically floating, and it takes him a good while to actually come down. he doesn't care if there's a mess. in fact, better if there is, his foxian lizard brain says, that's very good.
his ear flicks at the haaah sound, and he promptly ignores it because neither of them are cool right now. he's like, fighting off the urge to cry, as silly as that sounds. for someone who hasn't felt anything to this degree in decades, he's wrung the fuck out.
eventually, with a little grunt, he lets his legs come down from around therion's waist, though he doesn't insist on therion pulling out of him just yet if he doesn't want to. it's kind of nice. a follow through, caged in by therion's whole body, not wanting to get away.
instead, quietly, he just... pets therion. he strokes his hand over therion's hair, noses at therion in a very cat rubbing you with its face to remind you that you belong to it way. and runs his fingers over therion's skin with his other hand. whatever he can reach. ]
[ this petting gives him a few minutes to put himself back together. beyond being fucked out and letting the last waves of pleasure ripple through his system, jiaoqiu just touching him like that is giving him goosebumps. he's more pliant than usual, feeling sparks going off somewhere in his chest at the tenderness of such casual, easy touches and has to bury it. he closes his eyes, turns his face into his shoulder as he catches his breath, and buries his expression there, too, tries not to let himself overreact, tries to ignore the feeling of wanting to just crawl into him even closer, hold on tight and not ever let go. that's just embarrassing.
it takes him a couple of beats to pull out properly - once jiaoqiu releases him, he moves slow, hissing a little at the oversensitivity as he does, but really not going very far. just enough that he's not uncomfortable, because he's not very tall and some of the ache of old injury, of rigorous physical activity, is starting to slowly leak in at the edges of his subconscious. he wrinkles his nose when he gets nuzzled, when he gets free, makes worse of a mess, and then eventually props himself up on his arm to look down at him properly. therion's a mess - his already bad bedhead is all over the place, his bangs partially slicked back with sweat, face flushed, mouth kiss bruised and covered in bites, but there's a little bit of a glow there, too.
and after a long moment, he quips, very dryly, ] Old bones ground into dust, yet?
[ no need for almost crying here when you chose to like an asshole ]
[ there's a measure of oversensitiveness for jiaoqiu too, and he groans quietly when therion pulls out of him, shuddering. he's already starting to ache a bit. all over, from his jaw and throat to his hips and ass to his stupid bum leg. therion is going to hear him whine all day tomorrow, and he intends to start fussing about it now when therion quips.
and - not to be sappy, not to be an absolute loser, but therion props himself up and looks down at him, covered in bites and completely mussed, and it's the most handsome he's ever looked. it hits jiaoqiu like a fucking bag of bricks, startling all the attitude out of him entirely. it's why it takes him a second to reply, expression slightly caught off guard. his eyes are maybe a little wet, not actively, just damp. and he's a little gutpunched by a realization he has as he looks at a very naked, very vulnerable therion hovering over him like he didn't just spend the last couple of minutes buried against jiaoqiu's chest.
it shouldn't be new. he's felt it a couple times, holding his hand, kissing him, brushing his hair away from his scarred eye. it shouldn't startle him so badly, but maybe it's just because this time he puts a name to the feeling in the haze of emotions and hormones and nearly has a heart attack about it.
he sucks in a breath, and tries to think of something appropriately snarky to say back, and fails. his brain is working at half speed, after a very intense, emotional orgasm, and he cannot pull himself together fast enough, so he kind of just stares dumbly up at him instead, ear flicking.
a beat, and then, soft: ]
You look good like this.
[ fucked out, sure, but like. relaxed, more. it's the only way he can say I think I might be in love with you without saying the words. ]
therion's fully expecting a snarky comment in reply, so when jiaoqiu looks at him - really looks at him, it throws him completely off guard. it's the combination of everything, from the expression on his face (are his eyes wet?) to the tone of his voice, all soft and tender, all - all loving, and he'd have to be a fucking moron not to understand what that kind of face means.
sometimes, he thinks back to when he clambered up into jiaoqiu's window after he was bitten by a borisin instead of taking care of it himself. at the time, he'd recognized it as a turning point in their relationship, but what really sticks out is when the lupitoxin was roiling in his veins and he was desperately, desperately trying to bite back and push jiaoqiu away, and he'd taken him by the chin, bopped him on the nose, and said, "Because you know it is safe to come to me." such a simple phrase, but one that had gotten to the crux of every jiaoqiu related feeling he's had in the past year. that he's safe. trustworthy. that he is maybe the only good thing in therion's life, a good thing that he's sure he doesn't deserve (but then again, he's not a good person, and he takes things he doesn't deserve all the time.) he's safe.
and it has taken him some time to reach this, where jiaoqiu being safe can counteract his initial reactions of guarded, tight-lipped invulnerability. one of his fears was already realized, when he nearly lost him - something he will always blame himself for, internalized deep - and the other will always be there, a phantom in the night that whispers he'll betray you too, remember what happened the last time you felt safe, there is no one who looks out for you but you, but he steps closer to starting to unlearn it, bit by tiny, painstaking bit.
his mouth opens to say something, and then closes. he looks surprised, by the comment, maybe comically so - an equally dumb stare to match jiaoqiu's - and whatever he was going to say vanishes in a puff, a laugh escaping him as he ducks his head. he has to look away, because it's overwhelming, its too much, and he wants to dive into it and bury himself in it and run away at the same time. all of the work they've put in culminates in the fact that he doesn't. ]
Yeah? [ it's rough and rumbly, a stupid response. but he finally manages to peek back at him - disheveled and glowing and marked up and safe, safe from the borisin, safe to therion - and says, ] ... You, too.
[ it feels so lame to say. but it's a real response as opposed to something shitty, a genuine one. he feels awkward and lame and flustered and about thirty other emotions at once, but there's a rueful, tiny smile on his face, helpless and tinged with something a tiny bit self depreciating, but moreso at his own lameness than anything else. he's peeking at jiaoqiu to see his reaction, holding out against his instinct to run. ]
[ unfortunately (?) for therion, when he peeks, he gets treated to a very borderline lovesick expression.
it might be hard to read, because neither of them have a lot of experience with anything like healthy love. but that's what it is. it's jiaoqiu watching the culmination of a year of slowly gaining his trust. it's jiaoqiu watching the fire drain out of therion and turn into something real, something just as soft. it's a reciprocation, clear as day. the thing he was missing, before, or rather, the thing he didn't know how to spot. he's learned how to read therion, and the sense of safety that therion feels with him makes him feel like he could explode. it gives him purpose, something he's sorely needed.
it's not entirely selfless, either. it's purpose, but therion makes him feel good, constantly. therion makes him feel. everything, not just the good. he feels annoyance, and affection, amusement, arousal. the colors are brighter and the sounds are louder and he swears, sometimes, that he can taste the tartness of apples when he steals a slice from therion, and it means so, so much to be able to feel like he can live again. like he can be a person, instead of a shell, a shadow. he takes everything therion gives him, from the danger to the trinkets slipped into his pockets, because it makes him feel like breathing, like every inhale of oxygen is brand new. he doesn't feel like an object, when therion is looking at him like this.
jiaoqiu brings a hand up to rub at his eyes casually before reaching to put it on the side of therion's face. ]
I...
[ he starts. and then immediately gives up, because what he started to say is absolutely terrifying and humiliating and he can't quite get himself to do it, even when he's stupid and post-orgasm. his ears press down a little, but it's not in a bad way, just embarrassed. a beat. he swallows hard.
and then he ignores his wildly pounding heart and his floundering emotions and runs his thumb along therion's cheekbone instead. his attempt at snark back is weak and very late and there's no heat to it, but he's so obviously dealing with emotions that are making it hard for him to speak so this is the best he can do. ]
I'm going to make you clean this mess out of my tail, you know.
[ he says this, but if therion tries to move away he's going to pull him back down to cuddle. ]
[ oogh. well that look is like the killing blow. jiaoqiu's inscrutable, sometimes, but he's not always inscrutable to therion, and it makes the looks that are genuine so much more powerful, to know what they are. and being looked at like this - whether he can tell its lovesick or not, he can certainly tell the intention.
that, combined with the hand on his face, which is so, so gentle. he might not ever be used to the softness and sweetness when it comes - he thinks, briefly, that jiaoqiu might say something incredibly sappy, something that you can't actually take back, and that makes him kind of want to run out of the nearest window so he's almost relieved when it goes unsaid. something nervous boils up in his chest, fluttering hard like a bird banging against wire birdcage, desperately trying to get past the glass, but he swallows it. and, in fact, his head tilts just a tiny, tiny bit, enough to press into the hand on his cheek, leaning into the soft gesture and for a moment, closing his eyes. jiaoqiu doesn't say it, but the mood reads for affection and emotion and intimacy, and maybe that's all therion can manage. its sure as hell a long way from a hissing, spitting cat in an alleyway, a year ago.
the last comment makes him snort. the noise is a little discordant in the softness, but it breaks up some of the tension, whether it's positive tension or negative, and he opens his eyes slowly, looks at him, and then rolls them. it lacks heat. ]
Uh huh. [ all this complaining and for what! ] Can't have your cake and eat it too, fluff.
[ though... he glances down between them to the sticky mess on his stomach and thigh. glances up at him. and then, just to really bring home the distraction, therion runs a finger through it and licks his fingertips.
(frankly, the taste is not great, considering it's a mix of come and oil together but you know, it's kind of worth it anyway, because he'll like the look on jiaoqiu's face. have your cake and eat it too, indeed.) ]
well, his face was a little less red, but it goes tomato colored when therion licks that mess off his fingers. his ears do a fluttery sort of motion, and he opens his mouth - and closes it. a beat. he clears his throat. ]
I have to chase you down to make you eat good food, and you turn around and do this? [ he mock-scolds, but it's weak and all his blood is in his face, and he'd be lying if he said that didn't make him twitch a little, so therion should ignore him.
another pause as he tries to get a hold of himself. he doesn't want to get up. in fact, the only thing he wants to do is wipe himself off and then tangle himself up so thoroughly in the blankets and therion that there's no way to crawl out, but he is struggling with expressing this, also.
at least he's not almost embarrassing himself with the L word. thank god. ]
What? Thought I'd be nice. Clean you up like you asked.
[ hehehehe
that satisfies therion! he's pleased with this change in interaction, actually. cool officially maintained. he's going to need to untangle himself from jiaoqiu, and he does so with relative ease, now, sliding free of the cradle of his hips and pushing himself up to his feet. it is decidedly not as warm, but with his victory, he practically struts across the room, for every bit like the cat who got the cream (literally?).
therion disappears into the small bathroom, and returns a few minutes later with a couple of damp washcloths, which he tosses over at jiaoqiu. despite them being wet, they are warm - he clearly took the time to make sure the water wouldn't be cold.
he comes to join him a few seconds later, sliding back down beside him with grace. ]
[ jiaoqiu grumbles at the smugness - and he is very close to complaining when therion stands, but he doesn't. when therion heads into the little bathroom, jiaoqiu also brings his hands to his face and tries to like, talk some sense into himself. that's not what it is. it's not... he doesn't know what this is. he feels like standing in traffic when he tries to make himself think the word that describes the violent affection and care that he feels for this stupid cat, so. he gives up.
when therion comes back out, he's mostly composed, and even though he lets out a little yowl of a sound at the washcloth hitting him, he does notice they're warm. his chest feels tight again.
carefully, he starts to clean himself off - but when therion comes to sit down next to him, he pauses in his work and grabs a clean one so he can clean therion instead. he's much more interested in taking care of him than himself, as usual. ]
[ therion is oblivious to all of this, which is good. in fact, the only thing that actually distracts him from his current cleanup mission and/or being smug is the fact that when he makes it to the bathroom, his hand still feels warm. he clenches it briefly, feels the phantom warmth of holding someone else's, and - leans as hard as possible into being shitty, shaking his head in the mirror before he trots back out.
as he settles again, he feels that twisty, fluffed up feeling in his chest when jiaoqiu comes over to him, starting to clean - therion snorts, rolls his eyes, leans his head back away from the washcloth. ]
Aaaand we're back to the grooming, again. [ grumbled, as usual, even though every time jiaoqiu does this he secretly loves it, even though it always gives him goosebumps, even though the washcloth feels nice on his kind of sore muscles, on bare and tacky skin. despite the complaining, he lets jiaoqiu do what he wants, though he adds - ] If you fall asleep a mess and complain about it, you're on your own.
[ which is a brusque way of saying don't just focus on me. look out for yourself for once. ]
It's a wonder that I don't cover you in more bites.
[ he says mildly, ear flicking. he does not bite, though. instead, he shifts so he can reach better, wiping the tacky mess off therion's stomach, doing a gentle pass over his thighs and length. another clean one comes up to carefully make sure that the bites jiaoqiu did leave earlier aren't bleeding or gross, and are relatively taken care of so they don't get infected.
it's only when he's satisfied with this that he leans back to clean himself up, but it's a half-assed job. he's just going to have to shampoo his fur later, there's no getting around it. for now, he makes sure he isn't going to get anything on their sheets, and then sighs, heavily. tired. and sore, and ache-y in good ways, though in a bad way with his leg, which he's trying not to let show.
[ this is such a bold thing to say if only because of the two of them therion is 300% more likely to have weird feral animal diseases because he is a weird feral animal.
he's just being a little shit, though - proven even more so that when jiaoqiu starts half-assing his own, therion swats his hands away and picks up for him, grabbing a spot he missed, particularly around that bad leg of his. he needs something to do with himself or that gentle pass of his intimate touches is going to send him crawling the walls. or maybe crawling into jiaoqiu's ribcage. not really sure which. either way! ]
I swear you do this on purpose. [ this also is completely lacking heat and is just grumbling as he cleans him up - careful, careful not to push too much on the leg that was injured, careful not to touch him too much where it will hurt, where it will be oversensitive. despite his sharp words, he's so gentle, the brusque affection that jiaoqiu can likely recognize by now for what it is.
he does eventually roll over enough to grab whatever blankets got kicked off, stifling a yawn with one hand and tossing them unceremoniously over them both. gentle. maybe not that gentle. ]
[ it's not not on purpose. it's like therion intentionally pressing his buttons to get him to nag at him or wake up or whatever - jiaoqiu knows that if he's lazy enough, therion will take over, and he likes that.
he yawns widely when therion gently finishes wiping him down, watching him with lidded gold eyes. there's a measure of affection there, just like earlier. he's not affected by the grumbling in the least - he can feel the care that therion is putting into this, and it makes him feel warm. safe. sleepy, like he could just let therion do whatever he wanted to him and he wouldn't have to worry.
he doesn't answer. instead, when therion grabs the blankets, jiaoqiu turns on his side and throws his arm around therion, nosing at the side of therion's head. his tail flops over to cover their legs, as usual. maybe he'd be more shy about this, but therion just finished kissing him while coming of his own accord, and then delicately wiped jiaoqiu down after, so he feels like cuddling is not out of the question.
what might be a little more unusual is jiaoqiu taking his hand under the covers and holding it, but listen. he won't say anything if therion doesn't. ]
[ therion mutters - again, performative - as he is more or less dropped down under the blankets so he's laying back now, too, with jiaoqiu curling up next to him. the tail on his legs is familiar, too, because this position is one they've taken before. even this took some getting used to, but it's happened enough times now that his reactions are softened, that his initial balking at too soft, too close has eased with tentative trust, over time. jiaoqiu's own shamelessness when it comes to cuddling made it easier for him to quietly admit that he likes it without ever saying it, to allow himself to be held, to allow the affection as it comes.
when he takes his hand and holds it, that surprises him, though - he starts, at first, fingers flexing. just like earlier - a hand hold, out of nowhere. no utilitarian need to drag him through the market. no throes of passion, either. just the want to do it. it makes his nose turn pink, dusting with color, heartbeat tripping rapidly enough that jiaoqiu might even be able to feel it. there's a long pause.
and then, abruptly, without saying anything else, he turns over, bringing that held hand with him and curling up in a ball. the back of his neck is hot, because he this just pulls them into spooning, and somehow that's easier and harder all at once. with the arm pulled over him, he feels a little safer, in curling his hand back around his and holding on tighter, curled around it like a pillbug.
he also will not say anything. in fact, if jiaoqiu acknowledges this verbally, he might die. or he might just let go and run away as fast as possible, but - he goes along with the want to cuddle, and then some. ]
[ the very sudden turn to spoon is fine - it amuses him a little, but jiaoqiu understands. it's a lot. he's pushing his luck. but it's not a no, it's not running. it's toeing the line, a foot in the door.
he adjusts a little, making sure that therion is safely cocooned both in the blankets and by jiaoqiu's own body, holding him securely. presses his face against therion's neck for a moment, kissing it once, and then easing back onto the pillow and closing his eyes. he likes this. he very, very much likes having therion curled up around his hand like this, like a dog with a toy it doesn't want to give up. he likes being a barrier against the outside world. and he likes the way that they both start to warm up under the blankets, stealing heat from each other.
he doesn't say anything else other than murmuring good night, and he'll fall asleep this way. holding therion, almost protectively. ]
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and he doesn't swear, but the noise he lets out is a little strangled, breathless, when therion starts to move. he's immediately lost in it, too turned on to speak, and the slow, rough pace makes his head spin. makes his breath catch with each push forward, makes him hold therion a little closer. without any hesitation, he loops his arm under and over therion's shoulder, and digs his claws into his shoulder blades, threatening to claw. this is exactly what he wants right this second, this pace, something bruising and deep, something that coaxes breathy whimpers from his lips. the pressure is perfect, the slight ache, the way he knows he's going to have bruises and the way the friction makes his thoughts scatter away from him by the handful each time therion shows him that he knows exactly how to move his hips.
his thighs flex where they're pressed against warm, damp skin, and he ignores his own rule to not put too much pressure on his bad leg in order to wrap his legs around therion's waist, giving himself leverage, giving therion a better angle. anything, to make it easier for therion to twitch inside him again like he did, to find the spot he'd curled his fingers into earlier.
and after a moment, he has the rhythm down enough to meet him. the first time he rocks up to meet therion, the rush of heat that floods through him has him letting out a desperate sort of moan that he tries to turn his head and bury into the pillow. ]
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that's perfect. his back arches into where his claws are buried in his skin, feeling the sharp scratch just on the surface level and letting it send ripples of pleasure down his spine, another set of sensation to add to each deep thrust. he snaps his hips forward when jiaoqiu rocks, meets him halfway and breathes out, harsh, dropping lower over him. he's close enough that he could kiss him, but moving too much, reacting too much to do so, but therion tucks his face against the side of jiaoqiu's, nearly going for the kiss anyway and settling for his mouth pressing to his jaw when he turns his head. he can feel the vibration when jiaoqiu moans, and that's good, too - he lets that, the smell of them both tangled into this moment, sweat and sex, the sound of their skin harshly meeting skin fill up his senses.
when it feels like jiaoqiu's steadied, therion meets him - picks up the pace. just as deep, but a little faster, bringing him along instead of expecting him to follow. an act of together, an act of intimacy, instead of a rush to get to the finish line, instead of dragging each other along.
(and its nice, really. his hand hasn't left his.) ]
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and it's different, this time, he keeps realizing. it's not a brutal, frantic affair. not that he dislikes those - incredibly the opposite. every time he manages to goad therion into driving into him face first into the mattress, yanking his tail, pulling his hair, it's divine. but this is so, so good, too. this feels like care. this feels like affection, like an expression of what they mean to each other.
therion's so close to him, almost chest to chest. his stomach brushes against jiaoqiu's, the heat of him radiating over jiaoqiu's skin. if he pushes up at the right angle his cock rubs against his abdomen, caught between them, and that makes him keen a little, but he's not as interested in that. he thinks that if they keep at this pace, he could come untouched. he could come from therion gasping against his ear, from the scent of both of them mingled together, from the way therion's whole body rolls against his, muscles lean and lithe, dexterous. his hand on jiaoqiu's hip is hot and steadying all at once, and jiaoqiu takes special care to really roll his hips up into each movement so therion can feel him full-bodied. already, he feels so full - the angle therion's got him at is so dangerously close to driving him up the wall, but he's not shifting to help get there. he likes this, likes the steady drag of therion's cock inside him, and the lava burn build up of arousal, rather than the flash flood.
just a little faster. he follows easily, and he whines a bit, needy, nosing at therion. tries to press their foreheads together, because he wants therion to hear his sounds in stereo, because he wants to be close enough to press their lips together when he starts to get close, because he wants both of them to come with their fingers laced together and their breath intermingled. he's getting there, his noise starting to turn a little pleading. ]
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so jiaoqiu, claws at his neck, holds therion - free spirit, untenable - in place, and he wants it there. there's another harsh, desperate breath and his pace goes erratic, briefly, throwing off the rhythm of their bodies moving together because it gets him. he recovers quickly, using the stutter to arch his hips back fully, head sliding out of him fully, catching on his rim before he picks it back up again. getting closer to him means he has to bump his hips up to make up for their height difference, to bend jiaoqiu a little more than he might normally, but the angle change's good here, too. curled over the top of him, in this tiny, intimate space, he meets him there. he presses his forehead to his, musses up his bangs, puts his ugly eye scar and his busted eye out there to be seen.
and that's intense enough that he breathes out on a thrust inwards, as he pulls jiaoqiu's hips up pressed close to him, and manages a just this side of desperate - ] God, fuck, Jiaoqiu -
[ for once. no noises, but that's desperation enough. it's need enough. he doesn't know what he's doing, praising him or asking for something or giving him something or all of the above, overwhelmed with a feeling of closeness that's extremely unfamiliar but wanted so badly, overwhelmed with their laced fingers and what it feels like to be safe, to be loved. ]
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but. he hears - something, in that breath, in his name, and he's not entirely sure what it is, but he's there too. he almost feels like he could cry, his world centered around the two of them, the sound of the bed squeaking under them, the rustling of the sheets, the sound of therion's skin sliding against his own, damp with sweat. chest to chest, heart to heart, with a trust that they've both built so solidly. his heart is pounding in his chest. he feels something so wildly bright and loving that it scares him a little, but he's so alive, he's never been more present.
and so he responds, they press their foreheads together and jiaoqiu catches sight of therion's scar, of another shared intimacy, and shakily his hand comes down around to rest his hand on therion's cheek, cupping it, keeping him there. it's not a kiss, but it's close enough, and it's just them in this small space, jiaoqiu's heart getting ahead of his mouth. ]
Good, that's it, you feel - oh, you're so good, darling, Therion -- [ he whispers, and he never really talks during sex but he can't help himself, he's hurtling towards a climax and he needs therion right there with him. breathlessly, voice as desperate as therion's, caught between calling his name and frantically telling him he's close, he's right there.
fall with him. it's okay, he'll catch therion when he does. ]
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which is good, because it's a good distraction from that little pet name. now there's something he hasn't heard before, and it almost knocks him on his ass. he's barely conscientious enough to realize it, but his face screws up a little against jiaoqiu's hand - forehead to forehead, breath mingling, his hand tightens where he's holding onto jiaoqiu's hips. therion won't come until he can push jiaoqiu over the edge, only because it's the final way his body tightens around him that's enough. he drives the pace, more, more, harder, and --
--and therion's the one to surge forward and kiss jiaoqiu, because it lets him muffle a tiny, desperate noise, a groan into his mouth, because that's the only way he can let himself do so, the only way he can let himself let go. he might never be coaxed into being so honest, but this is so much progress, to let himself be actually unraveled, to be as bare as he can possibly be beyond skin to skin. it is something loving - it's letting himself be loved, letting himself be caught. and it's terrifying, but thank god, therion can't think about that right now, either, because his vision briefly whites out when he finally does come, burying deep inside of jiaoqiu as he does. ]
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it's okay - he's right there with therion, there's no way he's lasting. he says he's close and it's maybe two seconds later that therion takes his mouth, and it's enough. the spark of heady, overwhelming heat of therion releasing inside him and the sound of the desperate noise swallowed up by his lips is enough to push him right over the edge, without even having to be touched. jiaoqiu comes with a gasping, stuttering moan, a garbled mess of keening noise and therion's name. makes an absolute mess of both their stomachs, his legs tightening around therion's waist to pull him in, press him as deep as he can go. stay. stay there. the pure, feral instinct that's taken over wants him to take, to claim, and he's not particularly inclined to argue it, body fuzzy and mind totally blank with the remaining dregs of pleasure. he leaves claw marks wherever he's gripping, at therion's back or his arm or whatever he grabs when he finishes.
and as they ride it out, shakily twitching his hips up with each pulse, jiaoqiu finally lets go of therion's hand, but only so he can hold him, instead. catch him, so to speak. he brings both arms around therion and clings, breathing him in. forehead to forehead, panting raggedly. he can barely catch his breath, whole body trembling with the aftershocks. one hand slides up therion's back and into his hair, just to tangle there loosely, to cradle him. ]
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for now, the world comes back to fuzzy focus, bit by bit, the initial high of the climax itself slowly coming down in a haze of warmth, of closeness. he can't hold himself up, and therion eases himself down on shaky arms, not caring if he ends up getting messier in the process. there's something so soul-soothing about the arms that curl around him, that thread into his hair, across the claw marks and old scratches on his back. when he falls, lets himself into that soft and tender sweetness, to melt into something soft instead of to crash and fall into the ground.
he's intimately aware of the hand jiaoqiu was holding. it flexes in the sheets, curling tight, and after a beat, he shifts his arm to rest his forearm near his head, a pin in the gentlest sense of the word - more like caging in, more like holding him there, like he might disappear if he doesn't. he says nothing, just exhales, a "haaah" noise, for the sake of trying to put up a tiny, tiny bit of his cool back after being stripped so bare. ]
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his ear flicks at the haaah sound, and he promptly ignores it because neither of them are cool right now. he's like, fighting off the urge to cry, as silly as that sounds. for someone who hasn't felt anything to this degree in decades, he's wrung the fuck out.
eventually, with a little grunt, he lets his legs come down from around therion's waist, though he doesn't insist on therion pulling out of him just yet if he doesn't want to. it's kind of nice. a follow through, caged in by therion's whole body, not wanting to get away.
instead, quietly, he just... pets therion. he strokes his hand over therion's hair, noses at therion in a very cat rubbing you with its face to remind you that you belong to it way. and runs his fingers over therion's skin with his other hand. whatever he can reach. ]
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it takes him a couple of beats to pull out properly - once jiaoqiu releases him, he moves slow, hissing a little at the oversensitivity as he does, but really not going very far. just enough that he's not uncomfortable, because he's not very tall and some of the ache of old injury, of rigorous physical activity, is starting to slowly leak in at the edges of his subconscious. he wrinkles his nose when he gets nuzzled, when he gets free, makes worse of a mess, and then eventually props himself up on his arm to look down at him properly. therion's a mess - his already bad bedhead is all over the place, his bangs partially slicked back with sweat, face flushed, mouth kiss bruised and covered in bites, but there's a little bit of a glow there, too.
and after a long moment, he quips, very dryly, ] Old bones ground into dust, yet?
[ no need for almost crying here when you chose to like an asshole ]
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and - not to be sappy, not to be an absolute loser, but therion props himself up and looks down at him, covered in bites and completely mussed, and it's the most handsome he's ever looked. it hits jiaoqiu like a fucking bag of bricks, startling all the attitude out of him entirely. it's why it takes him a second to reply, expression slightly caught off guard. his eyes are maybe a little wet, not actively, just damp. and he's a little gutpunched by a realization he has as he looks at a very naked, very vulnerable therion hovering over him like he didn't just spend the last couple of minutes buried against jiaoqiu's chest.
it shouldn't be new. he's felt it a couple times, holding his hand, kissing him, brushing his hair away from his scarred eye. it shouldn't startle him so badly, but maybe it's just because this time he puts a name to the feeling in the haze of emotions and hormones and nearly has a heart attack about it.
he sucks in a breath, and tries to think of something appropriately snarky to say back, and fails. his brain is working at half speed, after a very intense, emotional orgasm, and he cannot pull himself together fast enough, so he kind of just stares dumbly up at him instead, ear flicking.
a beat, and then, soft: ]
You look good like this.
[ fucked out, sure, but like. relaxed, more. it's the only way he can say I think I might be in love with you without saying the words. ]
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therion's fully expecting a snarky comment in reply, so when jiaoqiu looks at him - really looks at him, it throws him completely off guard. it's the combination of everything, from the expression on his face (are his eyes wet?) to the tone of his voice, all soft and tender, all - all loving, and he'd have to be a fucking moron not to understand what that kind of face means.
sometimes, he thinks back to when he clambered up into jiaoqiu's window after he was bitten by a borisin instead of taking care of it himself. at the time, he'd recognized it as a turning point in their relationship, but what really sticks out is when the lupitoxin was roiling in his veins and he was desperately, desperately trying to bite back and push jiaoqiu away, and he'd taken him by the chin, bopped him on the nose, and said, "Because you know it is safe to come to me." such a simple phrase, but one that had gotten to the crux of every jiaoqiu related feeling he's had in the past year. that he's safe. trustworthy. that he is maybe the only good thing in therion's life, a good thing that he's sure he doesn't deserve (but then again, he's not a good person, and he takes things he doesn't deserve all the time.) he's safe.
and it has taken him some time to reach this, where jiaoqiu being safe can counteract his initial reactions of guarded, tight-lipped invulnerability. one of his fears was already realized, when he nearly lost him - something he will always blame himself for, internalized deep - and the other will always be there, a phantom in the night that whispers he'll betray you too, remember what happened the last time you felt safe, there is no one who looks out for you but you, but he steps closer to starting to unlearn it, bit by tiny, painstaking bit.
his mouth opens to say something, and then closes. he looks surprised, by the comment, maybe comically so - an equally dumb stare to match jiaoqiu's - and whatever he was going to say vanishes in a puff, a laugh escaping him as he ducks his head. he has to look away, because it's overwhelming, its too much, and he wants to dive into it and bury himself in it and run away at the same time. all of the work they've put in culminates in the fact that he doesn't. ]
Yeah? [ it's rough and rumbly, a stupid response. but he finally manages to peek back at him - disheveled and glowing and marked up and safe, safe from the borisin, safe to therion - and says, ] ... You, too.
[ it feels so lame to say. but it's a real response as opposed to something shitty, a genuine one. he feels awkward and lame and flustered and about thirty other emotions at once, but there's a rueful, tiny smile on his face, helpless and tinged with something a tiny bit self depreciating, but moreso at his own lameness than anything else. he's peeking at jiaoqiu to see his reaction, holding out against his instinct to run. ]
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it might be hard to read, because neither of them have a lot of experience with anything like healthy love. but that's what it is. it's jiaoqiu watching the culmination of a year of slowly gaining his trust. it's jiaoqiu watching the fire drain out of therion and turn into something real, something just as soft. it's a reciprocation, clear as day. the thing he was missing, before, or rather, the thing he didn't know how to spot. he's learned how to read therion, and the sense of safety that therion feels with him makes him feel like he could explode. it gives him purpose, something he's sorely needed.
it's not entirely selfless, either. it's purpose, but therion makes him feel good, constantly. therion makes him feel. everything, not just the good. he feels annoyance, and affection, amusement, arousal. the colors are brighter and the sounds are louder and he swears, sometimes, that he can taste the tartness of apples when he steals a slice from therion, and it means so, so much to be able to feel like he can live again. like he can be a person, instead of a shell, a shadow. he takes everything therion gives him, from the danger to the trinkets slipped into his pockets, because it makes him feel like breathing, like every inhale of oxygen is brand new. he doesn't feel like an object, when therion is looking at him like this.
jiaoqiu brings a hand up to rub at his eyes casually before reaching to put it on the side of therion's face. ]
I...
[ he starts. and then immediately gives up, because what he started to say is absolutely terrifying and humiliating and he can't quite get himself to do it, even when he's stupid and post-orgasm. his ears press down a little, but it's not in a bad way, just embarrassed. a beat. he swallows hard.
and then he ignores his wildly pounding heart and his floundering emotions and runs his thumb along therion's cheekbone instead. his attempt at snark back is weak and very late and there's no heat to it, but he's so obviously dealing with emotions that are making it hard for him to speak so this is the best he can do. ]
I'm going to make you clean this mess out of my tail, you know.
[ he says this, but if therion tries to move away he's going to pull him back down to cuddle. ]
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that, combined with the hand on his face, which is so, so gentle. he might not ever be used to the softness and sweetness when it comes - he thinks, briefly, that jiaoqiu might say something incredibly sappy, something that you can't actually take back, and that makes him kind of want to run out of the nearest window so he's almost relieved when it goes unsaid. something nervous boils up in his chest, fluttering hard like a bird banging against wire birdcage, desperately trying to get past the glass, but he swallows it. and, in fact, his head tilts just a tiny, tiny bit, enough to press into the hand on his cheek, leaning into the soft gesture and for a moment, closing his eyes. jiaoqiu doesn't say it, but the mood reads for affection and emotion and intimacy, and maybe that's all therion can manage. its sure as hell a long way from a hissing, spitting cat in an alleyway, a year ago.
the last comment makes him snort. the noise is a little discordant in the softness, but it breaks up some of the tension, whether it's positive tension or negative, and he opens his eyes slowly, looks at him, and then rolls them. it lacks heat. ]
Uh huh. [ all this complaining and for what! ] Can't have your cake and eat it too, fluff.
[ though... he glances down between them to the sticky mess on his stomach and thigh. glances up at him. and then, just to really bring home the distraction, therion runs a finger through it and licks his fingertips.
(frankly, the taste is not great, considering it's a mix of come and oil together but you know, it's kind of worth it anyway, because he'll like the look on jiaoqiu's face. have your cake and eat it too, indeed.) ]
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well, his face was a little less red, but it goes tomato colored when therion licks that mess off his fingers. his ears do a fluttery sort of motion, and he opens his mouth - and closes it. a beat. he clears his throat. ]
I have to chase you down to make you eat good food, and you turn around and do this? [ he mock-scolds, but it's weak and all his blood is in his face, and he'd be lying if he said that didn't make him twitch a little, so therion should ignore him.
another pause as he tries to get a hold of himself. he doesn't want to get up. in fact, the only thing he wants to do is wipe himself off and then tangle himself up so thoroughly in the blankets and therion that there's no way to crawl out, but he is struggling with expressing this, also.
at least he's not almost embarrassing himself with the L word. thank god. ]
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What? Thought I'd be nice. Clean you up like you asked.
[ hehehehe
that satisfies therion! he's pleased with this change in interaction, actually. cool officially maintained. he's going to need to untangle himself from jiaoqiu, and he does so with relative ease, now, sliding free of the cradle of his hips and pushing himself up to his feet. it is decidedly not as warm, but with his victory, he practically struts across the room, for every bit like the cat who got the cream (literally?).
therion disappears into the small bathroom, and returns a few minutes later with a couple of damp washcloths, which he tosses over at jiaoqiu. despite them being wet, they are warm - he clearly took the time to make sure the water wouldn't be cold.
he comes to join him a few seconds later, sliding back down beside him with grace. ]
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when therion comes back out, he's mostly composed, and even though he lets out a little yowl of a sound at the washcloth hitting him, he does notice they're warm. his chest feels tight again.
carefully, he starts to clean himself off - but when therion comes to sit down next to him, he pauses in his work and grabs a clean one so he can clean therion instead. he's much more interested in taking care of him than himself, as usual. ]
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as he settles again, he feels that twisty, fluffed up feeling in his chest when jiaoqiu comes over to him, starting to clean - therion snorts, rolls his eyes, leans his head back away from the washcloth. ]
Aaaand we're back to the grooming, again. [ grumbled, as usual, even though every time jiaoqiu does this he secretly loves it, even though it always gives him goosebumps, even though the washcloth feels nice on his kind of sore muscles, on bare and tacky skin. despite the complaining, he lets jiaoqiu do what he wants, though he adds - ] If you fall asleep a mess and complain about it, you're on your own.
[ which is a brusque way of saying don't just focus on me. look out for yourself for once. ]
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[ he says mildly, ear flicking. he does not bite, though. instead, he shifts so he can reach better, wiping the tacky mess off therion's stomach, doing a gentle pass over his thighs and length. another clean one comes up to carefully make sure that the bites jiaoqiu did leave earlier aren't bleeding or gross, and are relatively taken care of so they don't get infected.
it's only when he's satisfied with this that he leans back to clean himself up, but it's a half-assed job. he's just going to have to shampoo his fur later, there's no getting around it. for now, he makes sure he isn't going to get anything on their sheets, and then sighs, heavily. tired. and sore, and ache-y in good ways, though in a bad way with his leg, which he's trying not to let show.
he also shivers. he's cold. where blankets. ]
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[ this is such a bold thing to say if only because of the two of them therion is 300% more likely to have weird feral animal diseases because he is a weird feral animal.
he's just being a little shit, though - proven even more so that when jiaoqiu starts half-assing his own, therion swats his hands away and picks up for him, grabbing a spot he missed, particularly around that bad leg of his. he needs something to do with himself or that gentle pass of his intimate touches is going to send him crawling the walls. or maybe crawling into jiaoqiu's ribcage. not really sure which. either way! ]
I swear you do this on purpose. [ this also is completely lacking heat and is just grumbling as he cleans him up - careful, careful not to push too much on the leg that was injured, careful not to touch him too much where it will hurt, where it will be oversensitive. despite his sharp words, he's so gentle, the brusque affection that jiaoqiu can likely recognize by now for what it is.
he does eventually roll over enough to grab whatever blankets got kicked off, stifling a yawn with one hand and tossing them unceremoniously over them both. gentle. maybe not that gentle. ]
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he yawns widely when therion gently finishes wiping him down, watching him with lidded gold eyes. there's a measure of affection there, just like earlier. he's not affected by the grumbling in the least - he can feel the care that therion is putting into this, and it makes him feel warm. safe. sleepy, like he could just let therion do whatever he wanted to him and he wouldn't have to worry.
he doesn't answer. instead, when therion grabs the blankets, jiaoqiu turns on his side and throws his arm around therion, nosing at the side of therion's head. his tail flops over to cover their legs, as usual. maybe he'd be more shy about this, but therion just finished kissing him while coming of his own accord, and then delicately wiped jiaoqiu down after, so he feels like cuddling is not out of the question.
what might be a little more unusual is jiaoqiu taking his hand under the covers and holding it, but listen. he won't say anything if therion doesn't. ]
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[ therion mutters - again, performative - as he is more or less dropped down under the blankets so he's laying back now, too, with jiaoqiu curling up next to him. the tail on his legs is familiar, too, because this position is one they've taken before. even this took some getting used to, but it's happened enough times now that his reactions are softened, that his initial balking at too soft, too close has eased with tentative trust, over time. jiaoqiu's own shamelessness when it comes to cuddling made it easier for him to quietly admit that he likes it without ever saying it, to allow himself to be held, to allow the affection as it comes.
when he takes his hand and holds it, that surprises him, though - he starts, at first, fingers flexing. just like earlier - a hand hold, out of nowhere. no utilitarian need to drag him through the market. no throes of passion, either. just the want to do it. it makes his nose turn pink, dusting with color, heartbeat tripping rapidly enough that jiaoqiu might even be able to feel it. there's a long pause.
and then, abruptly, without saying anything else, he turns over, bringing that held hand with him and curling up in a ball. the back of his neck is hot, because he this just pulls them into spooning, and somehow that's easier and harder all at once. with the arm pulled over him, he feels a little safer, in curling his hand back around his and holding on tighter, curled around it like a pillbug.
he also will not say anything. in fact, if jiaoqiu acknowledges this verbally, he might die. or he might just let go and run away as fast as possible, but - he goes along with the want to cuddle, and then some. ]
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he adjusts a little, making sure that therion is safely cocooned both in the blankets and by jiaoqiu's own body, holding him securely. presses his face against therion's neck for a moment, kissing it once, and then easing back onto the pillow and closing his eyes. he likes this. he very, very much likes having therion curled up around his hand like this, like a dog with a toy it doesn't want to give up. he likes being a barrier against the outside world. and he likes the way that they both start to warm up under the blankets, stealing heat from each other.
he doesn't say anything else other than murmuring good night, and he'll fall asleep this way. holding therion, almost protectively. ]