Brett is staring at the cat ears. They feel soft under his hands, so soft and fluffy, the bells tinkling quietly as he strokes the furr. He knows very well how they look on him. After all, he’s been staring at the instagram photo for weeks. They look good.
His hands are itching with the urge to put them on. But then, Eddy will be back soon. Very soon. He would see Brett, wearing the ears. Voluntarily.
Brett keeps stroking the soft fur while he thinks. Would that be that bad? If Eddy came home and saw? After all, he asked for it as his birthday gift. Brett, in cat ears. And honestly, Eddy has seen all of Brett anyway. Overtired. Overworked. Ill. With crushed dreams. What’s a pair of cat ears compared to all that?
He imagines how it would happen.
There’s the sound of keys in the door. Eddy is walking in, shouting "Hey bro, I'm back." He dumps the shopping bags on the kitchen table, turns around, and finally notices Brett, sitting on the floor, head leaning against the fridge. His smooth legs are stretched out, shorts barely visible under the large sacreligious hoodie he's borrowed from Eddy’s laundry pile. And wearing the ears. The black fur blended with his hair, as if they were a part of Brett.
Eddy would stop and stare at him, for sure. Would he see how the pink of the ears matched the shade of Brett’s lips? And of the hoodie. It would look good, much better than the strange, ill fitting maid costume. And then? Would Eddy say something? What would Brett say?
He sees himself sitting there, face red, while he sees the wheels turning in Eddy’s head, the silence getting more and more awkward with every second going by.
“I… I can explain” he hears himself saying.
But how? How explain it to Eddy, when he doesn’t even get it himself?
“Eddy, I get turned on by wearing cat ears. In front of you. So yeah.”
Even in his head that doesn't sound convincing. And what would Eddy do?
Mumbling “Bro, and you talk about me having weird kinks, what the fuck,” while running into his room and hiding for the rest of the night.
Brett feels a sting in his chest, just thinking about it.
But no, Eddy would never do that. Leave Brett alone and confused on the floor. He pokes at the tip of the left ear. Also, Eddy would be way too tempted to pet the ears. Brett saw him do it after they unpacked them, when he thought Brett wasn’t looking. Yeah. Eddy would want to pett Brett’s ears.
It would be awkward like hell at first, Brett thinks.
“I… I can explain.” Brett is stammering when he tries to speak.
And when he can’t, Eddy comes over to him and sits next to him. After a few minutes of silence, he finally says:
“It’s uncomfortable on the floor, hey. Wanna go over to the couch?”
He helps Brett to his feet, and then keeps their hands locked all the way to the couch. Where Brett lies down, and puts his head in Eddy’s lap. Now he’s in the perfect position to have his ears petted. He grabs Eddy’s hand and puts it on his hair.
It’s heaven. Brett wishes he could purr to show Eddy how great it feels. Instead, he buries his head deeper between Eddy’s legs and belly and hums with pleasure. Eddy’s hands feel warm and firm against his head and back. He’s about to fall asleep when he hears Eddy whisper into his ears.
“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s late anyway. You can explain tomorrow if you want to.”
Yes, Brett thinks. That’s much more likely. Eddy wouldn’t let him sit on the cold floor, confused and alone. And Eddy likes cuddly things. So does Brett, even if he is more reluctant to admit it. But sometimes when life is hard, you just need a big, soft plushy to cuddle with.
He softly strokes the left ear, right up to the peak. Brett thinks about Eddy doing the same thing, his long, capable fingers moving up and up until his short nails scratch the peak. It makes Brett shudder. It’s like he can feel Eddy’s fingers on him, and fuck if that isn’t doing all kinds of things to him.
And maybe it would do all kinds of things to Eddy, too. Stroking the soft fur while Brett presses his face against his crotch. For sure it would!
Brett can feel it. He can feel Eddy getting hard as he strokes Brett’s hair. Brett’s ears. And maybe he’s imagining it, but Eddy’s hand is getting firmer as well, making sure Brett is staying exactly where he is.
“Have you missed me while I was gone, my little kitty?” Eddy whispers softly, and it feels like something is melting inside of Brett. He whines and nods his head vigorously, feeling Eddy’s hard dick all over his face.
“My sweet little kitty.” Eddy says, his voice clearly affected by what’s going on between his legs.
“And it’s well after your dinner time as well.” His hands have moved to Bretts neck now.
“Do you want your special milk now? As a reward for being so patient?
It takes a moment for Brett to realize what Eddy is asking. He whines as he lets his legs slide to the floor and removes his head reluctantly from Eddy’s lap.
He feels lost for a moment without the contact, but then he’s kneeling on the floor, right between Eddy’s open legs, and fuck, Eddy looks about as wrecked as Brett is feeling.
His face is blotchy and is forhead is shining with sweat, his cock is straining against his trousers, and he is breathing heavily through his open mouth. And his eyes! Eddy’s eyes are glued to Brett’s face, and Brett loves it.
He lowers his head, but keeps looking up to Eddy through his lashes. Good. He lifts his wrists, Nyan cat style. Eddy’s eyes are still fixed on him. Very good. He licks his lips, slowly, and when he’s sure all of Eddy’s attention is on his mouth he moves his hands forward to pawn at Eddy’s crotch.
Eddy goes completely nuts. He bites his lips while he desperately tries to open his fly. But his hands are shaking, and in the end he needs to get up from the couch until he can finally lower his trousers, and his boxers, all in one go.
Brett is waiting for him on the floor, tongue out and pawns raised. He tries to relax his jaw, expecting a lot of cock shoved his way pretty fast, but in the end, that’s not how it happens.
Instead, Eddy extends his arms, his left hand cupping Brett’s cheek, while the right one is softly petting his head.
“You’re such a sweet kitty.” His voice sounds husky. “Waiting so patiently for me, Brett, my sweet, pretty kitty.”
He keeps a hand in Brett’s hair and uses the other to guide his erection towards Brett. It’s hard and dark, and looks quite big directly in front of Brett’s face.
It’s so close, he just needs to push out his tongue. And so he does. Brett gives the head a light, kittish lik, just touching it with the tip of his tongue.
Eddy moans. “Fuck, please, Brett.”
That’s it for Brett. He moves his head forwards, and starts to get at Eddy’s cock in earnest. He liks the head thouroughly, moving his tongue up and down in broad strokes. When he’s sure he’s cleaned away all the precome for now, he starts to swirl his tongue, teasing the sensitive ride, and goes back to licking away the precome that keeps dripping from the slit.
It’s a strange taste, strong and salty, but Brett realizes he does not care, not as long as it is Eddy. Not as long as it’s him that makes Eddy’s cock leak.
Brett can feel the wet spot in his own shorts, but that’s for later. Now it’s time for Eddy, who’s moaning constantly now. He’s started to rub his cock moving fist up and down while Brett is licking him. Brett stops. That’s not how it’s supposed to go.
He grabs Eddy’s hand and looks up, making sure he has his full attention. Then he opens his mouth and lets his tongue fall out. Eddy understands immediately. He takes a firm hold of Brett’s head and pushes him slowly forward, directly onto his cock.
Fuck. Brett suddenly wishes there was a mirror. Or a camera. He wants to see himself, kneeling between Eddy’s tights, lips around Eddy’s cock and the cat eyes merged into his disheveled hair. It must be quite the picture, and it's driving Eddy wild.
His grip in Brett’s hair has gotten tight, his movements erratic, and Brett can barely understand the words falling from his mouth.
“Such a good kitty. So pretty. So pretty, so good, sucking my dick, fuck, Brett.”
When he lets his hand drop, Brett knows he’s about to come. But he doesn’t back away. Instead, he tightens his lips and presses his tongue against the underside of Eddy’s dick. That’s it.
Eddy’s entire body is shaking as he comes, squirting into Bretts mouth. He screams Brett’s name, which feels deeply satisfying, even so Brett’s not sure how he will face the neighbors after that. But who cares.
Certainly not Brett. Not when Eddy slumps forward, resting his head against Bretts, trying to catch his breath. They sit like that for a while, and Brett can feel Eddy’s cock softening in his mouth.
It’s incredibly intimate. Brett’s surprised, because he thought having someone come in your mouth was about as intimate as it could get, but this moment, it feels so close, so soft, like everything except the two of them stopped for a while.
And then Brett can feel his knees complaining, his jaw hurting, and his nose is attacked by the heavy scent of sex, semen and cooling sweat.
Eddy noticed the shifting mood as well. He is sitting back on the couch, his soft dick leaving Brett’s mouth with a wet plop. He’s hiding his face in his hands, and Brett’s not sure whether it’s sweat or a few tears he’s swiping away. Both maybe.
When Eddy finally resurfaces he looks, well, very, very, very, very shy. It’s a long time since Brett has seen that face, and he’s not sure he likes it. Not right now. But then Eddy smiles his broad smile, and Brett sees his familiar teeths, and he knows that everything will be ok. They will be ok.
“Bro, these cat ideas were the best idea, ever,” he says finally.
Brett looks up at him, making sure the rest of Eddy’s come is still on his tongue. Then he opens his mouth wide and says:
Yeah. Not that it would happen like that. Cat ear fetish or not, Eddy would never go from best friend and business partner to kinky sex without at least a week of tortured deliberation. And Brett is not sure how much he would actually like having a cock in his mouth.
He likes the idea, for sure. The tent in his boxers clearly shows that. But the reality? For the longest time, he was not interested in other men's dicks. And now it’s too late to experiment, because he is really only interested in one person's personal bits. Eddy’s.
Speaking of Eddy, he should be home any minute now. There’s still time to hide in the shower, take care of himself and try to forget about this entire thing. Or he could go for it. Let Eddy find him, like that, and see where it leads.
It’s probably just his erection speaking, he knows. He could tell Eddy the next afternoon, over coffee. Kiss his hand. Give them some time to adjust, instead of surprising him in cat ears and with a raging boner. But then, Brett has not sat down with Eddy and told him for months. This, he feels, is the golden opportunity. He finally found his courage. He’s going all in.
So Brett puts on the ears and sinks gracefully to the floor. He wiggles his shoulders and lets his hands flop around, and thinks of starting a spontaneous rendition of the cat duet. But in the end, he doesn’t. That would be too much, even for Eddy. Wearing cat ears, and singing Rossini.
Brett softly pets his own ears. He can’t wait for the look on Eddy’s face when he comes home to this.
And wait he does. And wait. And wait. And then he curls into a ball on the floor and waits a bit longer. But the floor is indeed uncomfortable, and it’s getting late. His erection has vanished as well, and Brett decides to take a break. He’s tired, so he’ll just take a nape until Eddy is finally back.
That’s also a cat thing, right? Sleeping the day away in soft places? He snuggles into the hoodie and closes his eyes. So much more comfortable than the floor.
When Eddy comes back, there is no Brett in sight. He calls out Brett’s name, and checks his room and the bathroom. All empty.
He can feel his heart starting to beat faster, and he starts to worry. He double checks his phone. No new messages.
Maybe Brett just went out quickly to get food, and got delayed? Like Eddy, who has returned two hours late. He feels like a hypocrite. He really has no right to be angry at Brett for leaving without a note. Maybe he just needed some fresh air, and will be back any minute.
Anyway, Eddy has a lot of anime to catch up on, and it will distract him from worrying. So he goes to get his laptop from his room. He opens the door, turns on the lights, stops dead, and stares.
It’s the cutest, softest, thing he ever saw, and if this was a video, editor-san would have added a shower of hearts and uwus and rainbows. But this is not a video, and no one, no one else will ever get to see this if Eddy has any say in it.
It’s bad enough that there are all these pictures of soft, beautiful sleeping Brett on the internet, even so soft, beautiful sleeping Brett belongs to Eddy. A bit. Eddy thinks. But Brett, sleeping, wearing Eddy’s four season hoodie, on Eddy’s bed and to top it all, with the cat ears. It’s cute. Supercute. And beautiful. And incredibly confusing.
Because Eddy has thought about Brett in cat ears. A lot. He might also have thought of Brett, in cat ears, in his bed. Mainly while showering. With a hand on his dick. But for all the fantasies he’d had, well, he never had expected them to come true. Ever.
What was Brett doing in Eddy’s bed, wearing cat ears? He would have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.
But for now, Eddy carefully removes the ears and Brett’s glasses, putting them on the nightstand together. He covers Brett with the blanket, and heads for the bathroom.
Brett is very small in the big bed. Plenty of room left for Eddy to join.