Practice Makes Perfect

Smiling to himself after a lovely evening out with his mate, Munkustrap strolled down the path to deliver his date to the safety of his den. As they caught sight of Mistoffelees' home up ahead, the tux sighed contentedly and leaned into his shoulder. Their hands brushed and Mistoffelees took the opportunity to entwine their fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"I had a wonderful time, Munk. Honestly I don't think I've ever had fish that delicious!" They turned to face each other in front of the entrance, but Mistoffelees didn't seem keen on letting the date end just yet, snuggling in closer but pointedly not initiating a goodbye.

Munkustrap smiled sweetly at the soft purr rumbling between them. He wrapped his free hand around the smaller tom to hold him closer feel it against his chest. "Then I'd love to bring you back there more often."

"That would be nice," Mistoffelees replied airily, not excessively interested in fish at the moment. It didn't take long to reveal what was really on the tom's mind when he swooped up and kissed Munkustrap full on the mouth, a rough tongue soon pushing past his lips.

The rumbling in the small chest grew louder until it echoed back in the silver tabby's throat. His back soon met the dull rubber of tires beside the door with Mistoffelees practically draped over him like a very furry apron, light claws anchoring into his shoulders.

Something new, he noted, was the titillating way a slim white leg stealthily hooked itself around his thigh... and the way it drew them so maddeningly close. The claws on his shoulders took great pleasure in dragging little paths of shivers down the curve of his sides, stopping to trace circles into the flat of his back and hips.

"Do you want to come inside?" Mistoffelees murmured, leaving the tabby's lips to run tantalizing fangs over the thin skin of his stripe furred neck.

Munkustrap stifled a groan, heart pounding madly in his ears. He almost missed what the tux had said over the distracting migration of hands from his back to the base of his... waist.

Yes, he would very much like to go inside, but the thing is he had other commitments and he simply couldn't. Sorry.

Remember what you rehearsed, he reminded himself before finding the nerve to speak. It's not that difficult; just say you can't, not tonight. "Yes." Everlasting! Munk in love was clearly not keen on turning away his sensuous mate. "I..." and then some weird, hybrid bird-marmot noise that, although meant to be taken as 'I don't think we should', clearly came out as 'I just need to test out my vocal chords for screaming your name'. It seemed to slow Mistoffelees down because he pulled back a moment to watch the spectacle, brows knit in concern.

Munkustrap let up with an abashed grin and did the seemingly smart thing (though rather dumb in retrospect) by smothering his mate's puzzlement with a sloppy kiss.

Then he remembered he was being invited into Mistoffelees and Victoria's den. Chances the tux would try any funny business with her around, especially-- the word alone made him break out in a cold sweat-- sex, were lost somewhere in the negative twenties.

Which reminded him he had to speak with her anyway; he was asked to proposition her with teaching dance to the younger kits. Jenny would ask Victoria herself, but it was decided that Munkustrap was best at breaking bad news.

"Where's Victoria?" he chirped a little too enthusiastically when he'd sauntered into the den to find it Victoria-less.

"She's staying at Etcetera's." Mistoffelees was tugging at the door, which now had a thin piece of string draped over it. "It's just us tonight." The door shut with a trademark Hollywood shriek that would have screamed his name had this been a murder story. Panic began to set in. "...Need to get that door fixed," Mistoffelees mumbled under his breath before slinking back to Munkustrap with a hiplicious strut.

Bouncing up onto his toes, the tux grinned and wrapped his arms around the tabby's neck, his tail threading their thighs. "It's just us tonight," he whispered again and pulled his mate into a steamy, fiery, passionate, delicious, sultry, and many more synonyms for 'Wow!' kiss. This time when the hands roamed they were a lot less hesitant to place themselves wherever they pleased on Munkustrap's body... in other words his arse.

In Mistoffelees' defence, Munkustrap had a pretty firm hold on his as well, which might have been Munkustrap-in-love saying 'bring it!' so regular Munk let go. Great damage was done, though, and Mistoffelees was already working their bodies into jelly-legged passion; the action inched back to the tux's bed for the main event.

The duo tumbled back onto the blankets with Mistoffelees pleasantly supine and Munkustrap pressing him deeper into the bed. Immediately the tabby noticed the clean new blanket; scentless and suspiciously smooth and silky and perfect for-- Everlasting. He froze.

Beneath him Mistoffelees whimpered and pointedly rolled his hips and caressing the still tom's chest and stomach to recapture his attention. For a moment he stopped altogether and pushed up onto his elbows, clearly more than a little troubled at the full stop.

The hand that caressed his cheek was amazingly soft and comforting despite the tom's eagerness to put the new blanket to good use. Eyes shone confused and worried as they searched Munkustrap's, they clearly weren't doing well in hiding the mess of nerves, hormones, and worst-case-scenarios wreaking havoc in his head. "...Munk?"

"What?! Oh... my. I'm sorry, my mind's just everywhere all at once-- You don't have to stop, it's fine." Foot. Mouth. Now!

"A...alright. If you're sure." Decidedly reining in his enthusiasm, Mistoffelees closed the space between them for a slow and more tender kiss.

It was as if a huge spotlight had trained itself on him, turning the bed into a stage for the world to gather around and watch. If he closed his eyes it was more than easy to picture every Jellicle making up the audience, gossiping and whispering about his inadequacies as a performer with, admittedly, no rehearsal.

It suddenly dawned on him. The last straw that broke the proverbial camel's back, the drop that made the vase overflow, the thing that finally resulted in something horrible happening: he couldn't-- as in not if his life depended on it-- get an erection.

"Aah!" he yanked himself away and off the bed. "I--wow! I have to go, Misto. I really have to go-- like right now." He clung to this as a mini mantra, chanting his ode to leaving but, like an idiot, not actually doing anything. Maybe it was the upside-down look on Mistoffelees face, those incriminating blues that searched him top to tail-tip desperate for answers, which kept him in place.

There was a long moment where Mistoffelees watched him dissolve into a frantic mess before getting the hint ten times over that Munkustrap needed to leave. So he gave him an invitation. "Okay, Munk."

Without a second thought he booked it out of the den, the door shrieking something that wasn't his name as it swung on its rusty hinges for the first time in two years.