Stay With Me

Winter, despite being wonderfully beautiful, charming, mysterious, and romantic, isn't Quaxo's favourite time of the year.

As a kitten, he vaguely remembered making cold, hard snowcats and the terrifyingly thrilling winter storms. One memory in particular, his mother's death, turned him away from the whole concept altogether. The fear of freezing in the icy grips of winter soon became something he, being a shorthair, became painfully aware of.

Winter had always been a time of death and desolation for him, all the lovely colours and smells of summer transformed magestically into fall in its last attempt at survival before getting beaten down by the harshness of the first frost. It was a rather bleak time where the tux often found himself in a deep depression; laying alone and downtrodden in his den for the mostpart of the winter.

This year was slightly different.

During his previous years of winter blues and extended acts of hermitage, Quaxo often forgot about his need to eat, going days to almost a week without food. It was to the point where the threat of freezing was surpassed by the danger of starvation. He would often get Victoria to fetch him some field mice, being the experienced mouser she was, but since she'd mated and the London winters had grown harsher, Plato insisted that she stay at his human home to escape the merciless elements.

This left the young magician with a dilemma: if he couldn't get food, how was he to survive? Surely, one would think, he could use his magic, but it didn't work that way. No one understood the complexity and limitations that came with such gifts.

One bone chilling winter's night, he found his answer.

He was wallowing in his painful isolation one evening, staying comfortably warm and safe in his blankets, when a soft knocking resounded at the den's door. Bundling himself up in his fluffiest shawl, he rose from his nest to answer the door, the cat on the other side becoming almost frantic as the knocking became a steady pounding.

"I'm coming! Hold your fur!" He opened the door to find a rather frosty and disheveled Munkustrap, arms wrapped around himself like a vice, shivering violently. "Everlasting!" Quaxo gasped at the sight. He hadn't been aware of the deadly snow storm going on outside; the deeply buried den was completely ignorant to all sounds from the outside.

The tabby stuttered uncontrollably, trying to find his articulation. The tux grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside, slamming the reinforced door behind them. It wasn't until his candle went out from the draft that he'd realized how dark the den was.

He blindly led the silver tom to the main portion of his home, tearing off his shawl to wrap loosely around the stone-cold tom's shoulders. He received a clattering sound of appreciation: probably a failed 'thank you'. Slightly worried, Quaxo wordlessly led him to his pile of blankets and all but forced him to sit in the center of the mound.

Bending low to meet Munkustrap's level, he puffed slightly into his cupped hands until small sparks ingnited into a tiny flame in his palm. Stretching out his hand only revealed the dull glow of the shivering tom's wary expression. "Take it," he urged softly, fishing out the other's hand from the blankets to carefully spill the orangy glow into his shaky palm. "It won't burn you, I promise," he winked, ensuring the other's hold on the magic before turning his attention to the fireplace.

It took mere minutes until a fair sized fire was roaring and crackling comfortingly in the cleverly fabricated chimney. The tuxed tom rose from his crouch to tend to his guest who was gently rubbing the flame between his hands and warming up his crisp whiskers. "Feeling any better?" he asked softly, though not expecting much of a reply.

Munkustrap nodded weakly. "M-m-much. Tha-ank you."

In response, Quaxo leaned down to gently nuzzle his neck, making the bigger tom shiver at the fiery warmth. The small tom took note of this tremor and blushed shyly at the reaction he unknowingly evoked. He took note to keep contact to a minimum to prevent the Protector further embarrassment. He ducked shyly from the other's neck.

"I'll make us some tea. You should sit closer to the fire."

Grabbing the two thickest blankets, they slowly relocated the nest to sit close to the fire. Quaxo, making sure his companion was covered in the heavy blankets, stood up swiftly to search the den for tea and a kettle. He mumbled quietly to himself, trying to remember where he last saw them as he rummaged through the organized mess; one only he himself could navigate with confidence.

Munkustrap watched him quietly from his place in the blankets. It was apparent that he had made the little tux uncomfortable by the flustered way he jumped about the room, talking to himself to avoid the possibly awkward silence. He really wish he had shown better self control. He curiously looked around the dark, cozy den. It was rather mysterious with the racks of potions and books, stacked next to odd trinkets and clever contraptions he'd bet he would never encounter outside of this den.

It was an exciting insight into the magician's mind, he had never seen the inside of the vague tom's winter den before, though he had visited him in the pipe many times during the time from mid spring to late fall. This one was a hidden nightstand that had been hollowed out and severely redone. He was surprised he even remembered the way. The fact that Quaxo had agreed to disclosing his winter home for safety reasons was even more of a surprised since he much preferred his seclusion during the colder months.

Come to think of it, this was far too different than he would have expected from the usually bright tom. The den was so dreary and depressing, it was a wonder he didn't go crazy emo just being in here.

"Aha!" Quaxo exclaimed from behind a rather dark and cluttered table. "It was under the radio the whole time." The tom chuckled in relief and with a bit of offhand humour, the slight embarrassment of his mess now starting to make him nervous and slightly awkward in his own home; it surely wasn't made for hosting. "Now, if I could just find those tea bags..."

Munkustrap grinned. "Some water would be just as useful."

"Yes!" the tux beamed; he definitely knew where that was! "I remember leaving it..."

"Inside your luggage bags?" the tabby offered cheekily, feeling much better and back to his usual, warm self.

The small tom stopped to give him a rather mischevious look, swinging a small cabinet door open. "Under the sink," he replied. This only intensified the silver tom's amused grin.

Soon, once the tea bags were located, the kettle was put in place above the fire to boil. Quaxo, more or less, threw himself into their heavy blankets mumbling, "Move aside!" and "Give me more blanket." Soon enough, they were both huddled, side by side, in front of the radiating heat. The kettle could not take longer to heat up!

Quaxo sighed, burying his nose into the soft, red fleece. It was the best he could do to try to keep the tabby's scent from driving him wild. He wasn't sure if it was the heat and sleepy comfort that had now washed over the two- making his waking world a bit of a dream state, the closeness to the tom and the interesting vibes radiating from the striped body, or even the whimsical glow of the firelight, but it all just seemed too fantastic.

Casting a glance, he caught site of the tabby's strong chest, now uncovered from the green duvet as his body heat began to climb. It was all he had not to reach out to feel the hardened, prominent muscle that seemed to be comfortingly subtle but also painfully present. He wished that he had more definition in his muscles as well, but he came to terms with his physical limitations; it wasn't as though he was getting into fights every day. He soon realized he was staring and snapped back to the swaying kettle, slapping himself mentally for being so rude and inconspicuous.

Little did he know, Munkustrap was ever aware of his probing; feeling and analyzing his indecision, contempt, and interest. He watched as his friend buried himself further into his blanket, shivering slightly and rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought. The taller tom watched him with rapt intrigue from the corner of his eye; how nice it would feel to have those soft, dexterous hands rub the delicate fur on his face. How enticing it would feel to have him shiver like that while in his arms. Unfortunately, that's not how things worked. The tux shivered again, this time a stuttered groan came with it.

"You know," Munkustrap began, his mouth a bit dry. "If you're having trouble getting warmed up, you're more than welcome to sit by me. I have plenty of heat to spare now." Plenty of heat- Smooth! Idiot! He began mentally chastising himself for the awkward offer, but immediately froze in pleasant surprise when a smaller, chilled body snuggled up close to his. He opened his arm to offer a warmer place closer to his chest. It was just dumb luck that the tux took the offer gratefully.

Quaxo sighed softly, surely this wasn't the only way to get warm, though it was by far the most preferable. "So, are you going to tell me what brings you to my den?" Quaxo spoke up quietly. "Or are we just focusing on getting ourselves warm first?" In all honesty, neither of them really cared to talk at the moment. Snuggling together was far too much a delicious treat that neither wanted to spoil with pointless small talk. Though some may argue that it was getting a bit awkward between them.

"...My den collapsed while I was trying to get out of the storm," Munkustrap mumbled bitterly. "In a way it was my fault, though. I knew better than to leave the roof unsupported with so much snow on top."

"That's horrible! I hope you weren't right underneath when it caved."

The tabby went rigid a moment, not wanting to draw attention to himself by revealing the whole truth; that he had seen the indent in the ceiling before he left for his rounds, that he was actually trying to add support when the bulge finally cracked as he was putting up the post to distribute the weight, or that he had to dig himself out of the den and wet snow to seek refuge or freeze. "You were in your den! A-are you hurt?" The tux pulled away, much to the other's dismay, and began looking him over, pulling at the blankets to get a better look.

Munkustrap fought against the tux's insistent inspection and ended up having to swat his hand away when the black tom ended up pressing lightly on a sore bruise on his upper back. This earned him a silent and stern stare from the magician. He waited until he recomposed himself to speak. "Just a couple bruises, nothing serious, Jenny." This seemed to only increase the intensity of the stare, but all the tabby saw was a dark pout that seemed to make his stomach twist and his heart to flutter gently in his chest.

The low whistle of the kettle brought them both back to a more neutral mood. The tea was made in silence and they sipped sitting in their respective spaces. It didn't take all too long for Quaxo to get over his mood and start up pleasantly chatting. Their conversation was cut short when the young tom spontaneously pinched forward in pain, spilling his scalding tea onto his covered lap.

Startled, the tabby shot up onto his knees to investigate. "Quaxo, are you alright?" The tux whimpered in pain, panting harshly as he tried to ride out the cramps in his stomach. It seems as though it'd much rather have food than nutrition-less liquid.

"Quite," he grunted, gritting his teeth. "They're just hunger pains; won't last long."

"Hunger...? How long has it been since you've eaten?"

The tux seemed to think it over for a few moments, still rocking and clutching his stomach tightly. "Umm... When was the last time Victoria visited?"

The silver tom thought it over himself, it hadn't been too long, but it was no longer fresh in his memory. His expression grew almost angry the further back he had to search. "You haven't eaten for two weeks?"

The tux flinched at the tone, grimacing at the pain before his face relaxed and his body uncurled itself. "No," he corrected. "I had half a rat left over. So it's been technically a week."

"That's unhealthy- you're surely going to starve yourself..."

Quaxo shrugged tiredly, not really in the mood to be arguing. "I sleep most of the time, so it doesn't really matter how much I eat."

The kneeling cat simply huffed in defeat, plopping himself back down onto the blankets. "Well it doesn't really matter anymore, because I'm going to make sure that you eat from now on. Everyday, mind you."

This seemed to put the black tom on edge, hopefully he hadn't meant that he'd drag him outside everyday to hunt for mice in the snow? He'd freeze before he caught anything! "I hope you understand what you're asking of me..."

"All I'm asking is that you eat," Munkustrap stated simply. He took a long, grateful sip of the tea, looking into the fire thoughtfully for a moment. He nodded. "Until spring, I'm going to bring you food everyday. I swear I'll sit here and watch you eat if I have to!"

He almost thought he had said something wrong when a low hiss was the only response from the smaller tom. Looking over, he saw the tom struggle to get out of his blanket, realizing that the scalding tea he'd spilled had now seeped through the thick fabric and began burning his skin and fur. With a bit of help from Munkustrap, he was quickly able to untangle himself enough to writhe out of the blankets, tossing them off into the abyss that was his seemingly unorganized den.

Small flips of his stomach brought his attention back to the other tom when he'd realized that tea was being gently patted away from his thighs and knees. The touch was so soft that he wasn't even sure if the was actually being touched or not. The slow deliberation and the gentle care expected to be given to a small kitten gave him palpitations. Even after he was sure the liquid had been gone, the tabby continued to pay him care.

Looking up, Quaxo could see the softness in his face, clashing with the intense look of thought that was now a full-on trademark of the Protector. "Thank you," he whispered, idly wondering what his bedside manner for more injured patients was like if he showed that much attention to a less-than-mild burn.

It seemed that this was his cue to stop, though he deeply hated losing contact with the sweet smelling tom. It was a good thing that his hands were covered by the green duvet or he would have seen his curled, shaky hands as they retreated to anxiously entwine themselves in the longer fur of his tail.

Quaxo blinked, the small skips of his heart gone and the feeling of isolation growing inside him. In a lapse of boldness he, again, reached into the blankets to fish out Munkustrap's hidden hand. He found it shaking slightly, gripping his tail and nearly wringing it off. He caressed it softly for a brief moment before clasping it in his own and pulling out back towards him. "Thank you for everything," he breathed, voice airy and distracted.

The silver tom watched with wide eyes as his arm was being drawn slowly past the tux's waist and beyond, pulling him forward and causing him to lean closer to the small cat. A quick glance at his companion's face revealed his intentions with his soft, half-lidded gaze, slightly rosy cheeks, and parted lips.

Munkustrap held back before they met, lips lightly touching and tickling the sensitive skin, making sure that it wasn't a hallucination caused by the snow craze or a head injury he'd overlooked from the wreck in his den. Two slim, teasing fingers trailed up his chest and neck, resting just under his chin to close the gap between them by leading him forward until they were lost in a gentle kiss.

They both sighed, melting into the luscious feel of their partner's lips against their own. It felt as though a thousand-pound weight was lifted off of their chests; the hard work they've put to their friendship knowing that, realistically, nothing would ever happen between them, seemed to pay off and was immediately worth the slow build. It seemed that, tonight especially, they needed to feel this bliss more than anything.

Smiling, Munkustrap began moving into the kiss, mapping the magician's full lips slowly to treasure the moment, taking in the feel and swearing to never forget it. It almost didn't matter what happened to them after they separated, maybe they would go their own ways and never speak to each other again; at least he could have this one moment to cherish. Not that he would mind if they decided to go somewhere with this.

Quaxo gladly accepted the progression; he had been slightly worried at first when the tabby was still a bit hesitant, but now it seemed that they were both quite interested and responsive. Lovingly, the tux's light grip on his chin shifted so that his hand trailed down the curving arch of his neck and chest before reaching up to tenderly glide his fingertips over the silky smooth fur of his face and jaw. He was rewarded with a deep purr and the feather-light feel of a tail running over his folded calf and thigh as Munkustrap scooted closer until their knees were touching.

Moments later strong arms snaked around his waist; pulling him close as the kiss heated with passion. Curiously, Quaxo freed one of his hands, which were now both smoothing out the planes and angles on his friend's face and entwining themselves in the silver headfur, to glide down Munkustrap's neck to lightly run his hand across the firm muscle of his chest. Smiling when he felt the muscles tense and the tom lean into the sensation; silently begging to be touched again.

In excitement of the moment, he dimly registered the downward pull of his body as it began to recline onto the carpeted floor of his den, too caught up in the firm pressing of their bodies and the intricately simple yet perfectly synchronized dance of their heated lips. He hadn't truly thought about the subtle action until he found himself lying fully on the ground, Munkustrap shifting above him so that he was just barely putting any weight on the slim, wiry cat.

Without warning a sudden surge of panic and uncertainty plagued him, forcing him to writhe and hyperventilate slightly. He huffed disappointedly as he turned his head from the kiss, biting his bottom lip painfully as he panted softly for breath. Anger at himself for ruining their moment made him breathe heavier. Munkustrap's body stiffened at Quaxo's withdrawal, his own soft panting fanning the tux's cheek lightly. He quickly took inventory of his and his companion's limbs and bodies; hoping he wasn't pinching, squishing, or pulling anything that might have caused the smaller tom any pain.

His right arm was supporting his body weight slightly above the black cat's head, his left petting the gray-black fur over the magician's slightly protruding ribcage. Quaxo's hands were running wildly up his supporting arm and entwining his slim, magical fingers in his now mussed headfur. Their bodies were pressed together comfortably and both set of legs entwined reasonably, nothing seemed pressing or uncomfortable to his understanding.

"Too fast!" he gasped, turning his head back to meet the tabby's concerned gaze. They locked careful gazes, hoping the answer to this certain predicament would somehow appear out of thin air.

Munkustrap blinked, his senses returning to him like a cold slap in the face; what was he doing! Every alarm seemed to go off in his mind.This is so wrong! You're supposed to be protecting him, not molesting him shamelessly. Everlasting, he's a tom! Why had he even come here when he could have easily staggered off in the opposite direction to Cassandra's den or broken into Alonzo's? Looking down, he found his answer in the tux's light blue eyes; Quaxo was Munkustrap's friend. He sighed heavily; he was Quaxo's friend. How could he let this happen? Their relationship would never be the same after this.

Not only had he just crossed the lines of their friendship, but he was also selfishly forcing himself upon the inexperienced magician. He had let himself get too worked up; let himself believe that the tux actually wanted his love and affection. Perhaps Quaxo wasn't ready to accept such a different form of love from the Protector. But then, he had initialed the kiss; he had kissed back... A pang of guilt made him shamefully aware of the rather vulnerable position he'd worked the young tom into, blushing at the now slightly uncomfortable press of their hips, stomachs, and chests.

He stammered and babbled like an idiot, his expression seeming grow more into hurt and regret with each passing moment. Munkustrap eventually gave up, pushing himself off the black tom and scooting back onto his heels. "This isn't right. I'm so sorry Mistoffelees," he mumbled, running his hand through the messy, silver fur on his head. In a moment's notice, he untangled himself from the fabric wound around his waist and he was up onto his feet, moving for the door.

Deep hurt flashed onto the tux's features; Munkustrap never called him 'Mistoffelees'. He scrambled to his feet when the bigger tom stalked past him, the form turning into a dark silhouette as he walked out of the warm glow of the fire. "Munk, it's alright-" He croaked as he reached out to grab the crook of his arm, voice low and husky from the previous moments' excitement. This didn't stop the silvery cat as he only seemed to retreat to the door more fervently now.

"I have to go," he murmured stiffly. It was a lot harder than he though to resist the younger cat's touch; his want only growing the more he remained in the den with the flushed, bothered tux.

Quaxo shook his head confusedly; he hadn't wanted him to leave! The closer the tabby drew to the door, the more desperate he became. "Why?"

"I can't do this to us, Quax," he groaned as he turned to face the wide and starry eyed tux. If it weren't for his better judgement he would have thrown his arms around the little tom and ravished his lips until morning. Digging deep into his resolve, he found the courage to look deep into the icy blue eyes and said, "It's not fair to either of us to lose what we have."

He couldn't understand; what they had was great and all if they wanted to be friends, but what they could have would be just so much better. It was a shame that the tabby couldn't see it. "It's already changed, Munk. It's either we deal with his now or we'll just end up hating each other for not trying." Feeling helpless and rather defeated -he was up against Munkustrap's stubborn and unmovable ego; an indestructible force in itself- he carefully allowed himself to slump tiredly against the strong, firm muscle of his arm and shoulder. "I don't want to lose you. Don't you want to lose me?"

Munkustrap's throat tightened, constricting painfully as it tried to force down the unwanted lump of emotion. "Of course I don't."

"Then don't leave," Quaxo sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his face into the sleek, striped fur.

"I... This is so wrong," he shook his head sadly, his voice breaking under the stress and dashing his strands of confidence. For the sake of his dignity, he wanted nothing more than to push his secret love away, but couldn't bring himself to hurt him anymore than he had to. The increase in breaths from the other tom had him slightly worried, until he softly kissed the fluffy fur on his shoulder and looked up at him pleadingly.

Locking his light blue eyes with the tabby's firm, teal gaze, making sure that when he finally opened his mouth to speak, he'd be listened to. "Please. Stay with me. I can keep you safe." The almost emotionless stare into his hopeful face left him a bit deflated and discouraged. This only deepened his rejection when Munkustrap turned his head to the door; unable to look him in the eye for fear of tearing up at his gentle pleas and desperation.

The last thing he wanted was to risk losing the rest of his reserve. Despite his outward appearance, he wasn't a very emotionally devoid tom. He could easily face a foe and handle the pain of physical lacerations, but against another cat on a personal level, he had a very thin defense and found it very dangerous ground that he'd rather not approach. He quickly loss his nerve, turning to leave for the door.

Instincts and adrenaline seemed to possess the tuxed tom. In the moment it took him to register the silver tom's intentions, he sped past him to beat him to the den's entrance. Pressing himself up against door, throwing his arms out to emphasize his point, he panted heavily and with a strained voice said, "If you go out there, you'll die!"

"I don't need to be protected," Munkustrap replied smoothly. "It's my job to protect you; to protect the tribe."

"Then do your job: protect me!"

At that, Munkustrap started towards the sprawled tom, his expression steadily hiding the wall of feelings and thoughts behind it. Without a word, he deliberately closed in on the small cat until they were mere inches apart. Quaxo watched him evenly, his objection now to keep his friend from suffering the same fate of his unfortunate mother. "Stay."

Now, Munkustrap may not have been the smartest tom in the junkyard, nor was he the strongest, but he definitely knew when to give in and surrender: this was one of those times.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he pressed himself lightly against the exhausted tom, bringing his hands up to cusp the fair face gently, and kissed him sweetly. This time, he could gladly say that it was entirely his choice to love this tom; it wasn't a glorious fluke or ingenious lapse of judgement. Quaxo responded by securely wrapping his arms around his waist; intent of never giving the tabby any opportunity to walk out on him again: that was far too close and terrifying for a reprise.

Leaning into the kiss, he found his earlier passion returning with even stronger urges and confidence than before. Determined to deepen the kiss, he carefully, with the help of Munkustrap's supporting body, raised onto his toes to work his mouth firmly against the other's agape lips.

Moaning lightly, the tabby began running his hands over the silky grey-ish fur, stopping here and there to lightly tease the skin underneath, receiving slight jumps or airy moans from the other tom as well. Sliding his hands down the black tom's thighs, he was allowed to hoist the slim tom up his body. Winding and curling his legs around the strong, sturdy frame, Quaxo was successfully able to anchor himself to the other's waist and return to the passionate exchange of affections.

For his efforts, the tux was rewarded with pleasant chills as a rough, slick tongue drew tentatively across his bottom lip. He hungrily clasped his mouth over his companion's and lavished the feel of their tongues wrangling and roaming over the highly sensitive areas of their mouths. Teasingly, he broke away to playfully lick and nip at the tabby's upper lip, noticing that they had relocated back to the main living portion of the den.

In the warm glow of the fading fire, the two figures lowered into the messy pile of blankets that composed Quaxo's nest, the tux resting on Munkustrap's lap until they lay back onto the blankets, this time lying side by side. Their ministrations began to to slow as the two toms realized the extent of their exhaustion. Munkustrap pulled away from the tux's lips to cover their tired bodies with a red fleece. "It's been a long night," he whispered, pulling Quaxo close to his chest and resting his chin protectively against his forehead.

Quaxo reached forward to kiss the sensitive skin covering Munkustrap's adams apple. "Promise you won't leave?" he asked quietly, the crackle of the last sputtering flames lulling him to sleep. He snuggled close, smiling at the low purr rumbling deep in the protective, big-hearted chest.

Smiling warmly, the tabby leaned down to lovingly nuzzle into the sweet smelling, soft black fur on the tux's head. "I promise," he murmured, letting out a deep yawn before beginning to drift off himself.