WARNING!!!! Ree!Porn ahead.
It's been a while since I posted anything diiirrrtty x)
Harley lives at my new love - Spectre. Craven belongs to the darling Ren.
The mansion was big, and quiet and empty. The only real signs of life were the birds hiding in the trees in the newly built greenhouse that Craven had built for him. But even with the exotic animals for company Harley felt rather alone. He had never had free reign of such a large amount of space before and even after exploring every nook and cranny during his first few days Harley felt he didn’t quite know the building like someone who had lived there for years. A lot of the rooms still held the stale and dusty scents of age and disuse – the rooms didn’t get used even with occupants in the house now anyway. The stench of the renovators had finally slipped away from in the air and Harley felt comfortable walking about without worrying he was going to bump into anyone whenever Craven was at the Lab.
Ah, Craven, the man who now held a control over him with just two words. Vivienne had visited him just before he left his little apartment back in Klayton Dome, and he told her of his intentions to join Craven and to allow the man to consider himself to be his handler. He had no idea who was watching out for him since Raisa’s death, but Vivienne had just smiled and said that if that was what he wanted she wasn’t going to force him to change his mind. People needed to move on with their lives, she couldn’t bear it if she held him back just because it suited her.
And then she had told him what she was.
Harley thought he’d be angry, and for a few moments he felt riled because she had had the power to save Raisa and to keep their family together. It was only a brief feeling and moments later he just smiled up at her and gave her a tight hug. He held no hatred towards the Lab. Yes, it was a cause of his nightmares, but had he never gone to that place he wouldn’t be who he was today. Were it not for the Labs existence she wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet any of them. No Lab meant no Craven either. Would the world really be able to cope if that man did not exist?
Wandering out of the doors to the greenhouse, Harley pondered that thought as he headed for the kitchen, feeling the change from wooden floor to tile under his barefoot as he went from one room to his final destination. Another thing about being alone and able to finally relax in his new home was that Harley finally felt comfortable to shed the layers of clothing that stifled him and wear next to nothing. The hothouse was the warmest place in the house, but the overall temperature of the other rooms was still at a comfortable level for him. Today he had no errands to run or anything much else to do and so he had spent most of the morning snoozing in the greenhouse in his reptilian shape. Going back to human, Harley covered himself with a long shirt that hung just to mid-thigh. The sleeves were too long and hid his hands and most of the buttons were unfastened. The light blue shirt wasn’t his though. He hadn’t seen the scientist for at least a day or so and for a reason Harley couldn’t explain he kind of missed him. He was a bit of a leech and Harley wasn’t completely certainly of the older male’s intentions. One of the worst things was that even Craven seemed to claim not to have a clear knowledge of why he was so interested in Harley. A main thing that Harley felt was becoming clearer and clearer was that Craven had an interest in him that was far from platonic. Nerves had jostled him at first, soon followed up by questions and uneasiness. Harley had never really ‘liked’ anyone before in a physical manner. He’d never looked at a person and thought that they were good looking or that he would like to share something intimate with him. The scientist had sent all those thoughts and feeling askew, leaving Harley wondering if he wasn’t as asexual as he believed himself to be and more the fact he just hadn’t met the right person yet.
That person being Craven Vulpes.
Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Harley tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. He liked the kitchen. He was far from a wonderful cook, but he did enjoy cooking on some level. Noting just how his hair brushed his shoulders Harley reached up to run his fingers through it debating whether it was time to get it cut. Jutting out his bottom lip in thought his mind once more drifted onto Craven, thinking of the man’s silver hair that looked like it was so very soft to touch. Whenever Craven had doted (intimate) affection upon him Harley had never really touched back unless it was on impulse and that was usually to push the older man away. Maybe he was missing him, maybe he was thinking into it too much – Harley didn’t know and didn’t currently much care. Bringing his hands and the sleeves they tugged on before his face, Harley nuzzled into the cotton fabric, inhaling the scent of the man who had worn the shirt before. Being alone he could deal with, it was more being alone in such a big place that was bothering him and leaving him to dwell on his thoughts too much. Craven always left his mind in a maelstrom and yet he also managed to cut a path straight through with just a touch or word. Shivers ran through his body, heading along his spine and right down to the tip of his tail. He was alone, wearing Craven’s shirt and there was a heat in blood that wasn’t just fuelled by the fact he’d been spending most of the day somewhere warm.
Since when did he have such devious thoughts?
Well, truthfully, never. But that didn’t matter. What mattered right now was that Harley was feeling a little lonely and Craven had a way of easing those feelings of loneliness. Just because he wasn’t around didn’t mean Harley couldn’t imagine the man’s presence. Wrapping his arms around himself and snuggling further into the shirt Harley slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the bedroom that was all his. A lot of his belongings were still in boxes scattered about, but the bed was big and comfy and the mattress was comfortable. It was big enough that he could stretch out on it from the middle of the bed and nothing would hang over the edge. Throwing his body down onto the sheets, Harley rolled over and stroked his hands over the shirt he’d stolen. His toes and tip of his tail curled in the blankets pooled around him in anticipation of what he was considering doing. Figuring out his sexuality could wait because right now it didn’t matter. What mattered were those memories of kisses he could call on; the way Craven’s hands felt in his hair; Craven’s lips like feathers against his own until he pushed hard against him and his tongue dipped into his mouth; even the brush of fingers on his jaw whenever he angled him to take those illegal kisses. Rolling his shoulders into the mattress beneath his body Harley’s hand slipped lower, brushing the ends of the shirt and pushing it back to wrap his fingers around himself, breath catching in his throat at the touch to such a sensitive area of his own body. Once upon a time he had thought such an act was vulgar but as he slipped his hand up and down those ideals slipped away to be replaced by personal indulgence that lavished in the way his body had been touched by the older man in ways no one had ever touched him before. In ways that his brain was only happy to help enhance and add to, slipping in images that only occurred in fantasies and wet dreams.
Pushing into his own hand, Harley let out a soft moan, reaching up with his free hand to drag his nails over his scalp. Eyes were closed and mouth was parted to allow his tongue to slip through the gap and flicker in the air every now and again before another moan – each one increasing in volume – rumbled up through his throat. Knees brushed together as Harley’s whole body was enveloped in the sensations of lust and self gratification. The pace his hand moved at increased, speeding up until the noises he made ceased to become more breathy pants and mumbles of a name on his lips he couldn’t quite form until one final jolt raced from his head to his toes and tip of his tail
“Craven...nnn...”
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