itty bitty kocctis snippet as a treat. re: pretty boy.
~
“Pretty boy?” Occtis’ voice is slightly incredulous; it’s not the first time Kattigan has called him that, but it’s the first time it’s really registered.
“Yeah.” The ranger’s voice is gruff and matter of fact. “Got a problem with that?”
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Occtis mutters in return, mostly to himself. He doesn’t count on the other’s sharp hearing, definitely doesn’t expect the burst of laughter in answer.
“You do know what you look like, right?” Kattigan’s attention is wholly on him now, gaze sharp as a hunter finding prey. It’s a little unnerving.
Occtis also isn’t terribly sure how to respond. He’s never exactly thought much of his appearance, but his entire life has indicated it’s as much of a disappointment as his lack of sorcery. “Yes, but I’m not—“
His awkward beginning is cut off by a calloused hand gripping his chin, forcing him to meet Kattigan’s gaze. The other’s thumb traces his cheekbone with surprising delicacy, as if committing the contours to memory. “Yeah. You are.” It’s blunt as Kattigan usually is, and there’s something mischievous and faintly wicked in the grin he flashes. “You ever need someone to remind you, you know where I am.”
He releases Occtis to return to his watch, and the arcanist knows he’d be blushing if he were still capable of doing so.
hey friends! taking writing prompts for kocctis, knightingale, or whatever the hell we’re calling the three of them; I have a long-ass tech rehearsal tomorrow and ima need stuff to do!
Kattigan has just tossed a half-filled leather pouch his way with a careless, “Thought you could use these.” The necromancer doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the bounty now before him.
Bones. Each of them pristine, carefully removed from the remainder of the skeleton that provided them. Automatically, Occtis begins to mentally identify each one: rabbit, grouse, deer, raccoon. Nothing supernatural, simply the sorts of things a hunter would come upon in the course of their work. It’s not the nature of the bones themselves that floors him. It’s that each one has been carefully, exquisitely carved - some with geometric designs, others with vines and flowers. Nothing that changes the essential shape of the bones, but simply adds another, beautiful dimension to them.
He doesn’t know how long this must have taken. Or why Kattigan has done it at all.
The man is watching him expectantly, and Occtis tries and fails to find words. He runs a fingertip along one of the carvings, and finally manages to get out a stilted, “What?” The awkwardness of the question is immediately embarrassing, but he can’t shove the word back down his throat.
Kattigan doesn’t look bothered in the least by such a lackluster response to his generosity. “Been watching you with your magic, looks like you have to use a lot of… stuff, right?” Mutely, Occtis nods, and the older man gives a casual shrug. “Figured these might be useful for that. Just extra pieces, that sort of thing.” It’s all so matter-of-fact, as if this isn’t a gift that he’s gone out of his way for. Even if the carvings suggest otherwise.
Occtis feels a lump in his throat, swallows abruptly to try to hide it. He’s rarely been given anything. Gifts were not something common in his family, especially not for him. Thimble and Thaisha have occasionally offered little things, usually bits and pieces of the natural world that they are both so tied to. This is… different. This is useful, and more than that, thoughtful in a way he can’t explain or place. Kattigan has no reason to do something like this for him.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Thank you.” It’s more of an effort than it should be to get the simple words out, and Kattigan grins. There’s an amused glint in the other’s eyes that Occtis can’t quite place. He reaches out, ruffling the arcanist’s hair, a strangely almost fond gesture that should seem awkward, but somehow doesn’t.
“Any time you need any more, let me know, yeah?” He waits for Occtis’ slightly stunned nod before turning to cross the campsite and leave him be.
Occtis spends the rest of the night sorting through the carved bones, memorizing the feel of each design under his fingertips.
If he notices later on that they seem to be just a little more effective than his usual spell components, well, that’s his own business.
I just realized I should TOTALLY post the little kocctis fic snippets that have emerged from me on here (my beloveds in the discord have already gotten them and ilu all! <3)
Kevin Day was more than merely human. A little cursory research had provided the reason: his mother, Kayleigh Day, of Irish descent. More critically, a descendant of the rare creatures who still inhabited the world’s wild places, who were so very seldom spotted in this modern day and age.
Small wonder Tetsuji had pursued Kayleigh Day so relentlessly, and had taken whatever measures he deemed necessary to ensure her son ended up in Moriyama hands. Kevin Day had faerie blood in him, a valuable commodity to those for whom blood was both business and sustenance.
He had tasted like rain-soaked earth and blossoming greenery, and Ichirou had drunk in the intoxicating strength of it. Even diluted by humanity, fae blood was a powerful elixir.
~
THAT’S RIGHT I’M DOING THE THING WITH PART-FAE KEVIN
as I write more cr4 fic, just assume for any given story that if it is not specifically being used for the purpose of inflicting emotional damage, I am always retconning dame gaya seremai’s death.
like nah. my beloved snake wife is here and she’s alive. shut up brennan 🤣
why the fuck not, let’s make kevin day a passable commodity by supernatural mafia husbands because hot 🤷♀️
nsfw for damn sure! featuring vampire!ichirou, werewolf!stuart, and human!kevin basically being a sexy, sexy chew toy.
y’all let me know if you want more of this; I feel like I could definitely keep rolling with this shameless smut!
~
Stuart takes a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling slow and languid around him as he breathes it out. His lips curve into a taunting smirk as he taps the ash away, grinds out the last lingering embers.
“Don’t be greedy,” he drawls, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, elbows braced against his knees. “You won’t leave anything for me.”
The softly amused chuckle from across the room is somewhat muffled, thanks to the fact that Ichirou’s mouth is currently pressed against the curve of an elegant neck, fangs sunk into soft flesh. He remains for a moment longer, then draws back, tongue dragging over the neat puncture wounds. They clot instantly, preventing his victim from losing any more blood. That would be a waste, after all.
“You underestimate him,” Ichirou says, delicately wiping a spot of crimson off his lower lip. “He’s stronger than that. Aren’t you, Kevin?”
His prey is glassy-eyed with blood loss and with need, breathing heavily as he raises his dizzy, distracted gaze to Ichirou’s. The vampire does not strictly need to exert any more influence on him, to drag him deeper under his sway, but he does anyway, just a little pull that has the human stifling a whimper.
“Yes,” he manages to get out. He hasn’t been able to say much more since Ichirou first took him under tonight.
There’s something amusingly sweet about the way he stumbles as Ichirou pushes him off his lap, glancing back at him as if needing direction. He’s utterly in his thrall, caught by the vampire’s gaze and his bite. Ichirou grins, flashing fangs. “Down,” he purrs, stroking a hand down Kevin’s spine. “Crawl, like the good pet you are.”
He is an exemplary pet, a possession Ichirou takes great pride in. He’s only willing to share because Stuart Hatford is an ally, a friend, and occasionally more.
Besides, he rather thinks he’ll enjoy watching the wolf take Kevin apart.
The lean lines of muscle beneath Kevin’s skin flex as he crawls across the carpet, cheeks flushed and head down. The space between the two leather couches is scant, and he is at Stuart’s feet in moments, sitting back on his heels. After so many years belonging to the Moriyama family, he knows his place.
Stuart’s grin shows the faintest flash of the wolf within him, slow and predatory. He cups Kevin’s chin, studying the sharp lines of his face, his tattooed cheekbone, the blown pupils of his emerald eyes. “Fuck, he’s gone already,” he murmurs with a laugh, thumb dragging slow across the human’s bottom lip.
“Mm.” Ichirou leans back in his seat, savoring the lingering richness of Kevin’s blood on his tongue. “Trust me, he’s still very… responsive.”
Stuart’s hand dips lower, tracing the planes of Kevin’s bare chest. His thumb drags over a peaked nipple, and the human’s breath catches in his throat. Of course the wolf notices, hones in on that vulnerable point. “You like that?” His accent thickens in moments of desire like this, and Ichirou savors it.
Kevin manages a nod, a shaky bob of his head as Stuart grins, pinches the nipple hard enough to make the human arch, hissing out a sharp sound. The other is given the same treatment, rolled between calloused fingertips, dragging a tiny moan out of Kevin’s throat. Stuart chuckles, glancing back up at Ichirou. “Responsive is right. You make him like that, or is it just natural talent?”
Ichirou’s smile is slow and expansive as he rises to his feet, pacing towards them. His hands settle on Kevin’s shoulders, thumbs dragging over the delicate skin of his collarbones and neck, tracing the still-healing bite marks on the curve of his throat. “Oh, it’s all natural. He is a bit of a prodigy in everything he does,” he adds in a purr, just to see the way Kevin’s cheeks flush at the compliment.
The words are true enough; Kevin Day is obscenely talented in many ways, the entire reason he ended up in the Moriyama family’s hands in the first place. It’s just that most people only know his talents as a world-class athlete and a charming public figure. These more personal talents are reserved for only a select few.
His hand slides up the back of Kevin’s neck, fingers tangling in the dark silk of his hair. Another half-swallowed sound escapes him, and Ichirou smirks as he pushes him down. Kevin bends without resistance, until his cheek is pressed against the heavy denim stretched over Stuart’s thigh. Green eyes dart up to glance at both of them, then are drawn irresistibly back to the rather obvious bulge between Stuart’s legs. He doesn’t need further instruction, shifts of his own accord until he’s nuzzling against the seam over the other’s crotch.
The wolf lets out another rough laugh. “Eager, too.” He easily undoes the fly of his jeans, reaches inside to pull out his cock, and Ichirou watches Kevin’s pulse stammer against his throat and his tongue dart out to nervously wet his lips as he realizes just what he has to contend with. Stuart is more than commonly large, whether that’s due to his lycanthropic nature or simply natural endowment. Hard, he’s no little bit intimidating, particularly to someone who hasn’t dealt with someone of his kind before.
Ichirou’s grip on his hair tightens, and Kevin heeds the implicit warning - he tilts his chin, plush lips wrapping around the head of Stuart’s cock.
“Fuck,” the other man grates out, hips lifting a little so he can push himself deeper into Kevin’s mouth.
“Maybe later,” Ichirou retorts with a teasing flash of fangs, garnering another, more breathless laugh from Stuart.
He turns his focus to the vampire even as Kevin chokes around his cock, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, flashing unnaturally gold in a hint of his baser nature. “Promises, promises.”
