Archive of Our Own

Hope is thin when a whole kingdom's trust in their protectors has been proven to be for naught, when heroic idols have been abandoned and darkness overwhelms. Too easy is it to become embittered toward the light you once turned your face to. But even when the light has faded and the very identities of the Darkners have been shaken to their cores without the balance of the light, some have found a way to remain, if not hopeful, content with their new lot. Some whose world crumbled to madness chose to distance themselves, mentally, physically, even occupationally.

Seam has been a balm to you since you wandered into the seap some months ago. The King's madness was infectious, and you would have been lost in it if it weren't for Seam's four eyes gazing warmth into you. The attitude of sitting back and letting come what may won you over, and the two of you became fast friends, quickly superseding the shopkeep/customer dynamic until it wasn't uncommon for you to stay in the back chatting until what counted as late in the night after hours. Seam is such an open individual, boundaries of the overstaying sort are always pointed out long before you can cross them. Well, Seam is mostly open. There are some secrets unknown to you that you understand are to stay that way regarding Seam's time as royal magician, but. Whatever happened brought you together, so.

So.

"Knock knock!" You lift the curtain to the back of the seap with the back of your hand. Being Seam's living space, it has a patched-up beanbag in one corner and the makings of a rudimentary kitchen. With the lamp on, set on a small wooden stool next to the beanbag, the room isn't as dark as the shopfront, but Seam does seem to prefer orange and black tones. Seam usually offered you the beanbag to sit on while tea boiled, choosing to perch on the small dresser just as a true cat would.

"Oh?" Seam turns, body twisting to a feline degree from a hunched position over an open drawer. "Ah, it has been a while, friend. I was starting to think you had forgotten this old cat."

You shake your head and shoot Seam your best beam. "I could never! But here, I figured if you were up for it..." You brandish the bottle you'd brought with you. Swirling red in it is a dark and glittering liquid. Dark Candy is a fruit too, after all, and can be fermented like any other berry into a dizzyingly sweet, smooth wine. "Wanna?"

Seam's smile glows from the inside. "That sounds like a wonderful way to end my day. Allow me?"

A great paw reaches for the bottle and you sit on the beanbag while Seam removes the cork and retrieves two jars. They are mismatched and simple, but able to hold about as much as a wine glass. The candy-wine still swirls in distinct lines of color even after being poured. Your fingertips brush against Seam's claws when the glass is handed to you, fur soft between thick fingers. Not quite a hand, not quite a cat's paw, but somewhere in between; phalanges curled into arches with claws that can't retract all the way. Seam's movements are sleek despite the bulky clothing, curling atop the dresser with feet tucked up, long tail trailing to the floor.

"You have something on your mind, it seems."

You take a drink and drag your eyes from tail to face. Seam's eyebrow is quirked, fangs overhanging the rim of the cup during a sip. "Well, maybe. I was just thinking about magic."

"How so?"

"Humans can't use it, you know? But it seems to be such a beautiful expression of self. There's the everyday stuff, but then there's the more complex spells that people have spent a lot of time perfecting, spells that become part of who they are. And I think it's really beautiful."

Seam hums. "I try not to take it for granted. There is a beauty in gravitating toward patterns and shapes that please you down to your core. I think of it as a returning to infancy, when patterns and shapes were all one's young mind could comprehend."

You consider the words, thinking of building blocks and wooden boards with pegs intended to teach children the names of shapes. Rudinns' bullets in particular fit that bill.

"I think that's how people try to find happiness," you tilt your head and recross your legs, leaning back. "Whenever I try something I liked as a kid, it gives me this feeling of peace I can't really find anywhere else. Like because it comforted me in childhood, because I gravitated to it before I developed biases or understood outside opinions, it somehow became a part of who I was. And doing it again brings me closer to who I feel like deep inside. Is that what magic is like?"

"Mmm. Yes, I believe so. It's an art born of love and intent, taking parts of yourself and making them into tangible objects with properties of your choosing." Seam takes a long drink, ears flattening in pleasure. "It's as like to harm as heal, and it's a truly wondrous thing to spar with someone who will learn your attack patterns and show you theirs. It's like being able to show someone how your mind works with a demonstration of your power."

You nod. "Without magic, trying to explain my thought process to people feels like trying to convince them I'm not crazy." You'd watched Darkners engaging each other in friendly combat. It always seemed like an energetic, exhilarating activity. The colors of the magic dazzled, and so did watching them each size up the other and understand in what ways to move their bodies to dodge the other's constructs. It was aesthetically breathtaking and intimate in a way you will never be able to experience.

"You seem saddened, friend."

You raise your glass to your lips, enjoying the smooth, sweet taste. Without feeling too heavy, the candy-wine's sweetness covers the bitterness present in most wines without adding any extra sweeteners. It is like a dessert wine, except that's just how fermented Dark Candy tastes.

"Nah, it's fine. I'm too delicate to do it without my opponent holding back a lot and I can't really reciprocate even if I tried, but I try not to be sad about it." It's hard, sometimes, being a human Darkner knowing you're the exception. There isn't a succinct way to concentrate your essence as a human, no energy that both makes you up and crackles along your being naturally, no coil and release of magic you've practiced so often it becomes muscle memory, so entwined with your being that your body knows what to do to call it forth. Nothing like magic.

"Hmm." Seam tilts the glass, avoiding staining the purple fur over curled lips. You wonder if the motion comes naturally or if it was learned through experience.

"I was also thinking about how many kinds of Darkners there are," you go on. "I know I count. But the non-magic-users are all humans. All the magic users have so much diversity. So many ways of getting used to living in the body you're given, between horns and tails and claws or not having arms or legs. Everyone's different, everyone's got their own bullet patterns, but people don't let their similarities with Darkners of the same subspecies overpower their sense of community with the whole species, and that's what gets me."

You finish your glass and move to pour another. As you do, you say, "And magic-using Darkners definitely don't discriminate against me or anything, it doesn't make me feel unincluded. I just have to learn how to express myself in a similar way without magic, even though it's harder for me to come to that kind of self-understanding if I'm not able to see how my body physically magically reacts to certain feelings."

You think of therapy sessions on television with monsters sifting through their feelings with little bullet patterns dancing in spirographs in front of their faces. The movements trigger the same part of the brain as interpreting body language, like allowing your body to conjure the bullets subconsciously while feeding the mind ideas is a form of conversation between self and brain. Two different actors, two different sets of body language and tone; the line between the conscious brain and the subconscious brain is thick enough that giving the metaphysical of the two a way to react to ideas independently can give insight to the conscious about how their brain filters and understands information and emotion. Use of magic for therapeutic purposes surely takes a lot of practice to perfect, but any non-human Darkner has the ability to try on their own. 

There's a presence next to you, kind and soothing, so you do not startle to see Seam has come up behind you for another glass. Seam looks exceptionally soft in that cloak. You hum and fill it up, emptying the bottle. These glasses may hold more than you initially thought.

"I think what we define as magic is rather narrow," Seam says, reclining in the space next to yours. You take your seat and relish in the warmth to your side, soft and plush, feeling pleasantly buzzed. You subconsciously lean your head into a pillowy arm.

"We talk about magic like it's all the manifestation of emotion into bullets, energy into matter, the universe being created again from all of us. But I think that doesn't give enough credit to the subtler forms of energy sharing."

"How so?" You find yourself intensely enjoying the dual sensations of the give of Seam's arm and the sweetness on your tongue. Seam's voice is hypnotic, too. You know from a previous conversation that Seam had been the royal magician, meaning you have a veritable beacon of magical knowledge sitting right next to you. You had gathered from the tone of the conversation that it was a sore subject, though, and did not mention it on your own.

"There's magic potential in all of us, friend," spoken slowly. "While having a solid magical profile is impressive and useful, keeping in mind that magic is energy, one's ability to perceive and react to the invisible energy of others to avoid conflicts before they start is one that anyone can learn. It isn't a thing of beauty like a performance, an expression of self, a matter of self defense, or a matter of healing. But being able to hone your ability to sense someone's energy before engaging with them in order to bring situations to their most beneficial end is a power that many take for granted."

You both pause to take a sip, and you wriggle under Seam's arm, impeccably comfortable. The voice under you vibrates up under your ribs like a huge back massager, soothing the knots in your heart. Seam switches glass from one hand to the other and relaxes the arm you're under so that large paw is curled near the small of your back. Seam is a rather large Darkner, though hunched over as usual you'd never know. The plush body under you has give like you feel on pillows, and not the firm kind. You finish your drink quickly so you can set down your cup and snuggle in closer. You're not that drunk, there's precedent to this closeness. Seam doesn't have the youth to spare on being roundabout with boundaries or touch, and finding another person who tires of the social construct of touch being demonised when it is in fact a biological necessity was such a huge boon to your mental health. You swear you're not dependent, it's just nice to know someone you can drop mainstream social pretenses around. You know you also help Seam, as an outlet for ideas that pass over the heads of people whose minds are locked in customer/employee-dynamic-mode. Surely they would understand what Seam says if that wasn't a legitimate contextual state of mind they're set in.

Besides that, you trust Seam. There's not a hint of ill intent radiating from the cat, just the tiredness of playing in a world whose rules make the game unenjoyable.

"Think of what fuels magic. Emotion, intent. The energy you have, and the direction you want to send it," Seam says. "That's all magic is, you know. Casting it is just a matter of..." Seam extends a clawed pinky from the glass, almost empty, and a gray bullet pattern appears, three spheres rolling lazily toward the wall. "But who's to say that magic is only something you cast? Are other actions also fueled by emotion and intent not magical just because they don't appear with the wave of a paw? No."

Seam pauses to finish the drink and set the glass down, turning towards you once able. You can feel the fur under the cloak scrunch beneath your cheek, and you're covered fully by the other arm draping over you. You reach your hands up to tangle your fingers in the veritable mane Seam has grown about the face, fluffing it beyond the natural shape into something round and inviting. Your fingers curl and scratch behind the ears, earning you a quirk of a stitched-up lip.

"I believe that magic is found in any action designed by its actor to bring happiness into the world. Magic is found in intuition, in making things better for those who come next. Without you casting the seed, the fruit would not grow for that person who would have starved without it. Magic is found in the energy you put out when you worry for someone's safety. Darkners casting magic have proven that energy can be converted into matter aside from the beginning of the universe, so who's to say that the energy you spend praying for safety isn't converted into something which helps ensure your safety after all?"

You press your hands flat to Seam's head and start scritching in earnest, watching button eyes and socket close in pleasure. "Friendship, the love contained in it, is a kind of magic. Love creates a higher energetic wavelength with a minimal amount of effort. Magic seems phantasmical because we appear to create something very tangible out of almost nothing. Love is a similar power, with many spells. Love is the magic that can take two people close to apathy and echo the little energy between them in a feedback loop until both their hopes are restored. Love is asking your loved ones if they're okay, and the simple question being what assures them they are, after all. It creates energy out of almost nothing, with only emotion and intent as its fuel. Love is going to visit a friend with a memory waiting to be created, unknowing of if that's what that friend needed to feel whole that night..."

Seam trails off upon feeling your lips touch the stitches crossing over a soft mouth. You're not looking, just nuzzling into the soft fur. It was a love for Seam that brought you here tonight, love that prompted you to bring a drink and a friend to the old seapkeep, love that brought you to enjoy the closeness and the conversation and the feeling of stitches and patches under hands, the way the button-eye spins and blinks. Seam's right. You may not have magic in your blood, but there's a kind of magic that makes you better for practicing it, isn't there?

It takes you a moment to realise that the light feeling in your chest and the hypnotic way Seam was speaking is due to a low vibration, barely audible to your human ears. "Are you purring?"

"Ah..." You feel Seam's tail swishing on your leg. "I... Yes. For a while. Pardon me, it has..." Ducks head and coughs. "You... Kissed me."

"You don't want me to?"

"I..." Seam trails off, socket-eye wide and soft, searching your face but putting no distance between you. Your cheeks burn; maybe you went a little too far. With the amount of gratitude for Seam's company spooling in your chest, a kiss had seemed like a logical thank you gift. It felt good . Seam's thin lips are soft and peach-fuzzy. If given the chance, you think they'd taste sweet. You love Seam, not in the romantic way necessarily. Seam makes you feel at peace and safe, always caring for you in tea and advice and company, a no-strings-attached companionship built on mutual respect and understanding that society's rules don't have to apply between the two of you. A kiss doesn't have to mean anything other than, "Hey. Thank you for making me feel good. Thank you for being my friend."

A kiss was, however, unprecedented. Seam's tail slows to a sway on your calf, back, forth, back, forth.

Those four eyes hold so much old grief. When it appears, the smile, lit from within as if by a tea candle, does not mask the hurt Seam has grown distant from even when genuine. It makes it hard to tell if you have actually offended your dear friend, whose face remains unreadable.

The face before you becomes even less readable when its eyes close and most of it disappears under your peripheral vision. The black threads now lay against the corner of your lips and a heavy paw spans your waist from ribs to iliac, thumb spread and claw angled into the soft flesh of your tummy. The massive paw holds you lightly, like it's there to ground its owner rather than deepen the connection. But, oh. You want to. Eyes closed, you twine your legs with Seam's and drape an arm over what would have been Seam's ribs if any bones were to be had. You press your chests flush, sinking in, enamored with the velvet pressed to your lips and the whiskers tickling your nose. Your heart thuds in your chest when you realise how enveloped in Seam's embrace you really are. Seam has stretched to full length; your toes come to mid-calf if your head is under chin. You part, a centimeter apart, breathing each other's sweetened breaths.

The purring has gotten louder.

"Seam," you say, delicately, "this doesn't have to be anything more than this. Two friends kissing. I don't want this to change how you act around me."

The exhaustion has seeped away from Seam's face, expression relaxing and blurring around the edges. There's only a sweep of content now. "I know."

Your heart flops in your chest at how easy it is with Seam. No stakes, no worries, either of you are able to clarify anything with the other without ruffling fur. That's the way it's always been with you two, able to come to an understanding of the other just by the grace of following your own rules. The despair of the outside world is nothing compared to Seam's inner light, and now you've been granted the opportunity to be as close to it as you will ever be.

You extinguish the whine the thought twines from your throat by kissing Seam again, pressing closer, closer, hands holding tightly to scruff and shoulder, sinking in. The leg you've pressed between Seam's hindlegs angles at the hip while the other hooks around the jut of a backwards knee. Ankle? You're aware you're the one with the abnormal biology in this case. Whatever, it feels good to press Seam's thigh between yours, and the vibrations rumbling near your heart are urging you closer. Those tremors penetrate your flesh and bone and pierce into the spaces between, making your heart feel heavy and honeyed and sending a twinge of arousal through you. Seam's paw squeezes your hip lightly, and you can feel how much power must have once existed in them. Seam's paws are patched and stitched, frayed in the webbing between fingers. You always wondered what magic those fingertips have conjured.

You make a small noise and break away so you can grasp the paw at your side, and gaze directly into Seam's slackened expression as you raise it to your face and drag your tongue from the bottom of the pad to the top (earning you a beautiful widening of eyes and a green flush across the nose, mouth dropping open), fluttering kisses across every bean at the end of each finger, each claw touching just above your lip. Seam's paw pads are orange and smooth like leather, and each one of them is the size of a grape. And Seam's expression as you hold that paw with both your hands and run your tongue and lips over each pad, rubbing with your thumbs what your mouth isn't paying attention to, it's precious. Torn ears tilt back in pleasure as the gaze you share becomes heavier.

You suck on a bean and audibly pop off it, and before you can ask if it's okay, Seam is upon you, suddenly rolled most of the way onto you and kissing you again. Your back presses into the beanbag and your hands circle to clasp between what should be shoulder blades on this living doll. Something sharp touches your lip next to the stitches, a fang ? No, it's a barbed tongue, testing your boundary, waiting for you to pull away or meet it with yours. Your body relaxes as you accept the deepening of the kiss, enthralled by the textures on your lips and in your mouth. So much different than kissing a Darkner of flesh and bone, Seam's all velvet and spikes, body pressing to your front as easily as the beanbag conforming to your back. That barbed tongue probably isn't much different than a tongue ring, but it makes your tongue tingle where it passes over. You pull Seam the rest of the way onto you. That deep purring, so low in tone it's barely within your hearing range, escapes from between your lips with every gasp and quiver. The tail swooshes over your feet and knees, which are bent up between both Seam's legs. You feel small and rightly so, Seam's arching and looming over you and isn't quite pinning you down, but it's close with those massive paws on either side of your head.

"You," Seam says, and leans back, whiskers twitching. Your mouth tastes raw with little scratches. "You don't mind doing something like this with an old cat like me?"

Seam's ears are still flattened, though coupled with the doubt misting through the expression, you sense hesitance. Does Seam think you're not into this? Into how this makes you feel, into who's doing it with you? Just because Seam's about a hundred years older?

"Oh, kitten," a smile tilts the corner of your lips. "Of course I don't mind, I really, really want to do this with you. As far as you're comfortable going, I want to meet you there. You're no 'old cat' to me, you're my friend who I'm very fond of and who I want to feel good."

A whuff of breath leaves you when Seam flumps down, face nuzzling into your neck, leaning fully into you. It's true. Whether attractive by mainstream standards or not, Seam is dear to you and by that virtue you want to see more. Your personal attraction to Seam, from wanting to know each patch and seam and button intimately under your fingers, to wanting to be trusted enough for you to know more of Seam's history, for what Seam used that old power sewn into frayed fabric; it pushes all doubt from your mind. 

"Ah... My friend, you truly do have a way of making me feel young again."

A gasp escapes between your lips at a bold paw running down your body. It covers so much surface area, touching the side of your hip and halfway up your ribs at once. And now instead of holding you in place, it's rubbing your skin through your clothes, pressing down and massaging gently, filling your veins with a tremulous, weighted ooze.

Sitting up on haunches, Seam runs the other paw under your hem and lifts your shirt up as gently as turning down a blanket. A black fang pokes from the corner of that mouth, enthralled with seeing so much of your very soft, human skin. The fingerpads that grace your abdomen, feeling the outline of your skeleton through the flesh with shivery scraping claws, are warm and have only slightly less give than your own.

Seemingly content at understanding what parts of you will squish and which parts would rather not, Seam traces spirographs across your chest and stomach, not hard enough to mark, but not light enough to tickle. The contact sends a peculiar heat through you, and briefly you wonder if the swirling patterns Seam's drawing on your flesh aren't magical runes from a time almost lost to the mage's past. Claws brush the valley of your iliac crests as Seam hooks nimble fingers under your waistband and you gasp, hands suddenly flying up to undo the tie of Seam's robe before you can be the only one rendered bare.

The knot falls loose under trembling fingers and with it, the robe. The hems brush your sides, and yours and Seam's chests are bare across from each other within a soft brown tent; Seam's fur is longer in the chest area, tufting prettily, with an otherwise undefined chest. The fur on the stomach seems remarkably well-groomed for being covered in the soft cloak all the time. You swallow, thinking about weaving your fingers through that satiny fur down and down and down, and arch your hips only when you feel claws undoing your button. You can't see past your knees to see what exactly Seam's packing down there, but you figure that either way there's going to be a moment of species adaptation before you can get started for real. 

Seam has crouched back to help you kick your pants off your ankles and in doing so has condensed; when before the figure bowed above you was languorous and long, now most of the volume has been smushed and widened, giving Seam the silhouette you're used to seeing at the head of the seap. You release a breathy chuckle at the sight and ears pivot in your direction. Seam deposits your pants on the floor, and rather than a toss or a crumple, the action is more like setting down a glass. Respectful, eager but not overly energetic. You have all the time in the world to savor each other.

The sentiment hardly registers in your brain before Seam is pressed to your front again in a deep kiss, and this time you can feel the soft fur tickling your stomach. You whine helplessly into Seam's mouth at the feeling of satin sliding over your flesh, warm and so, so plush. You can only imagine what it feels like for Seam, if your human skin feels better or worse than a more furry Darkner's coat. You want to know what it's like to wrap your legs around that waist and feel the fur brush the insides of your thighs, but Seam is straddling you. Those paws are upon you again, center of gravity leaned back to allow deft hands to splay across your chest. Seam considers your nipples and extends the blunt sides of tentative claws to tweak them, gauging your reaction. You shiver, sensing them harden, and a light moan falls from your lips as your head tilts back.

Using one arm as a brace, Seam moves an upturned mouth to your neck, the fuzz of it tickling briefly before a rain of kisses is delivered, claws still tweaking and rubbing your nipple in the meantime. The tickling sensation doesn't end with the contact of mouth to skin; Seam's ruff, haloing that sweet face, brushes from the tip of your ear down under your collarbone and gives you a peculiar shivery, tingly feeling in your extremities. When you had been panting before, bristles tracing up the skin of your neck make you cry out, a noise that peters to a thin whine as Seam continues the motion of the tongue on you. Gently, knowing of teeth made to pierce and rend, Seam bites your shoulder to test your reaction to teeth much sharper than any human's.

It's the consideration for your foreign human body that sends a molten spike of arousal through you more than the action itself.

Seam sits back, smile fuzzing around the edges, and dips a great head to your chest to lick at your nipple, too. This makes you cry out in pain, the barbs proving too much for this part of you, and your clenched fists are shaken out of Seam's ruff as a whispered apology graces your ears.

Seam settles to neck nibbles and licks on the opposing side, and the mood is restored. Especially with the leg pressed between your knees, keeping you spread open. No, that's not it. You feel your core temperature rising quickly despite the modest touches, without even having been touched where you ache and pulse with each drag of the tongue.

It takes a few moments for you to understand what has happened, all the while you've gotten squirmy by its effects, a coldhot tingling sensation like the prickling of many needles sinking low between your hips. The frequency Seam's purring at has changed, shifted by some hertz, and gone even further outside your hearing range. But you can still feel the vibration of it pulsing through your body, feel that rumbling drone from the person pinning you down, and you find that the waves of arousal overtaking you are synced to Seam's breath. If you look closely about the silhouette, you can see a faint green glow.

"Ah, hey, a-are you... Is this magic...?" 

A deep chuckle resonates through your body, pulsing with light and sending more of that purring sound-energy into your nerves. Each chuckle, each exhale, sends another wave of arousal through you, and with Seam's laughter it pulses through you in quick bursts, making you whimper at the speed of the individual sensations.

"Yes, my dear. Does it please you?"

When before it had been a near constant thrum, working you up gently in the background, that laugh pumps sexual magic energy into you in a bouncing gait. Your very atoms vibrate in time with what could only be a magic-infused sound frequency of Seam's own design in a steady beat, and it has your eyes hazing over.

Mouth hanging open, you nod.

"A cat's natural purring is meant to heal and soothe, and I can enhance my own with magic for that purpose. But... I can change the Intent of it as I please. Most sound magic users manifest their sounds into bullet patterns. Few appreciate sound magic as I used it in my day- A kind of invisible aura with as many effects as there are reasons to cast it."

A keen button-eye gazes upon you. "Since you seemed interested in the nature of magic, consider this a lesson in its subtleties."

Your hair is rising in fibonacci spirals, whether from the magic, the physical vibration of the purring, or Seam's fur tickling your neck as teeth alight on your neck once again and press pointed tips softly into the flesh, you can barely tell anymore. You're sensitive already, so the motion sends an intense rush of prickles down the side of your body, steeping into your feet and making you want to struggle. Concentrating on keeping your limbs from thrashing out at the electric sensation, you shakily wrap them around Seam's body, earning a pleased grunt. Seam trails a paw down your tummy, down into the cradle of your pelvis while you try not to writhe, down further until you feel pawpads on your sex. You hold your breath, scared for a moment of the claws, but to your surprise there is nothing hard or sharp as Seam takes a comfortable pace. You know you should be feeling claws just an inch away from those pawpads, you remember it from when you were kissing them. So where...?

You shudder when you look down between you and watch Seam's paw working you over, having a visual to accompany the soft resistance that's gradually building heat in your gut.

"What...?"

You can see the claws, and they're close enough to your sex that it would make you shrink away if it didn't feel so good. But as you look closer, they seem to phase right through the flesh, as if they were smoke projections. The fingers touch you, but the claws behave like they're not even there at all.

You go to ask about it, but stop when you see a twinkle in those eyes. Is Seam... Showing off?

Seam returns that mouth to your neck and sinks a little further into you, seeming to delight in how warm you've gotten. The dual sensation of expert fingers rubbing you off and having your neck tended to in this way, sensitivity building until even gentle actions cause you to squirm, it's fuzzing together in your brain, making you start to float away. 

Memories flash in your mind of times Seam and you have hung out together, all those times you laughed and connected deeply, those times you quietly observed Seam and found a stirring in your heart for the old cat. The first time you met was so inconsequential you hardly remember it, but as time went on, those encounters gained a sense of familiarity. Slowly, just as Seam preferred to do things. You hadn't realised you were falling into a friendship with Seam until you started coming around just to talk. And now, you're sharing something so much more beautiful than a drink.

Your heart is soaked through in fortune, dripping viscously down through your body. You clutch Seam a little tighter when the pleasure builds stickily in the back of your throat, clinging to the back of your tongue like peanut butter.

You breathe, so quietly your own ears can hardly pick it up, "Thank you..."

Your body is worked by Seam into a slow tense, muscles that had clenched in quivers of pleasure finding themselves locked in place. The result, as Seam continues that gentle but precise motion of the paw on you, is that you're shaking uncontrollably as each pass brings you closer in mere increments. You're caught between how much you want to cum and wanting the pleasurable, burning agony of being brought so close to the edge to continue forever, wanting the feeling of Seam's quickening breath on your neck while you're eternally pleasured into near insanity. You're so close and Seam knows it, seemingly intent on keeping you there. Ears perk with every moan stuck in your shuddering breaths and you don't have the mind or desire to hold your noises back. From the way Seam is purring and grinding down into you, you can tell Seam delights in your desperation. Tears sting your eyes.

"S-Seam..." Your sex throbs almost painfully to the rhythm of Seam's paw. Your heart thuds in your chest so hard, straining against the knots in your throat, like it's trying to reach out to the doll above you.

"Yes?" Through Cheshire lips, the word passes breathlessly, gentle but teasing.

You're too overcome to formulate your next words, that purring and that paw hypnotising you into speaking your heart. "Please... Kiss me when you make me cum."

Seam gasps, a sudden absence of warmth to your neck, but your plea is rewarded with a sudden clenching of fingers that has you arching up into Seam's chest and crying out in agonised, overstimulated ecstasy. Seam keeps that pressure on you, intently watching your face as it contorts to near panic as the pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, hardly giving you a chance to squeak out a warning, "I'm-!"

In a swift movement, Seam gathers you up, arm behind your back, helping you arch up into the deep kiss, and in that moment your thread snaps and you unravel entirely under Seam. Seam purrs loudly, forcing more pleasure from you in heady waves that have you convulsing as you feel your abs clench rhythmically. After so long of being kept so close to that edge, your orgasm hits you like a punch, forcing a whine that threatens to become a scream to tear from your throat and be muffled by Seam's mouth, gnashing at your lips with sharp fangs and scratching your tongue. In that moment, you're so overcome with gratitude and love for Seam that the tears in your eyes fall freely, and as you slump with closed eyes rolled back, Seam catches you and cradles your face to that soft chest, tears falling freely and being wicked up by the fur.

Almost beyond words, you return Seam's embrace with shaking arms. "Seam... Thank you..."

Seam is still purring, though notably the arousing effect has disappeared. You're grateful for that, as Seam clutches your trembling form close while you breathlessly wind down. Seam is so warm, so soft, light despite the near full weight resting on you. You nuzzle into the warm fur as your tears subside, to dry your face, to show affection, to keep yourself awake in the dizzying sensory combination of cumming so hard you cried and promptly having a living weighted blanket draped over you. 

"Take your time, dear," Seam whispers next to your ear. The ruff tickling your neck and the graciousness of the words fills your chest with warm molasses, and you grip onto Seam tighter, trying not to pull at the fur as you clench your fists into it. Your breaths stagger as sexual release melts into emotional release, jittery and deep. You're grateful that Seam isn't worried, isn't trying to look at your face. After all, that's what draws you to Seam- That emotional intelligence, that automatic understanding of how to treat you. Seam knows the close contact is both what's allowing your body to release this tension and the cure for the vulnerability that the release is making you feel. Darkness surrounds, how didn't you see before that Seam would be so much more than a normal close friend?

Minutes pass, and you take a clear breath. You must thank Seam. Your hands unclench, glide around Seam's body to the front. You finally get to marvel at the long hairs silking between your fingers as you draw your hands down towards Seam's tummy, the cloth the fur is attached to. You wonder if it's appropriate to ask if Seam was sewn or born because you've always wondered how they attach things like fur to fabric or hair to wigs, but Seam's paw on your hand halts the thought.

You make an inquisitive noise and look up at Seam's face, untucking your face from its furred cocoon. That green flush of magic is back, framing a set jaw.

"Is... Is it okay for me to touch you, too, kitten?"

Seam makes a helpless noise above you, physically reeling at the nickname. "I'm..." Eyes averted, "It's been a long time, and I'm..."

You take stock of the big cat. Despite the paw on your hands, you're not being pushed away, just held back from going further. It's hard to see Seam's exact expression from this angle, but now that you've stilled, it's impossible not to notice the tremors weaving through Seam's heated form.

"You're...?"

Seam pauses again, seemingly debating something internally, then replies, "I don't know how I'll react to being touched again. I want it. But I don't know if you'll enjoy it." The voice is whispered so lightly that you can't feel it rumbling through your chest.

"Oh, kitten." You flex your fingers into the fur again. "I want to touch you. I'll enjoy it because I want to do this for you, I want to make you feel good. You don't have to be shy."

Seam starts to purr again, clearly not intentionally as you see by the helpless drop of the jaw. You smile softly at the sound. "I'll go slow. If it's not what you want after all, just say the word. Alright?"

"Y-yes..." Seam rolls off you, body now facing up. Hindlegs and tail dangle off the beanbag, and Seam's tummy is entirely bared, face tilted to the side. It's hard to tell where those eyes are pointed when the only swiveling motion occurs in those three button holes, twirling in time to the tapping of the tail.

Seam's body is long, and the legs are bent in such a way that you glimpse orange toebeans facing skyward as you hook your leg over Seam's tummy. That seems to be the relaxed position for Seam's legs, though, laying like this. Interesting. You place your hands where they were before Seam stopped you, scratching gently down through the expanse of fur, getting a feel for the body under you. Seam has a dark green patch stitched somewhere over the left hip, and you let your fingertips pass over it.

"Can you feel that?"

"Ah?" Seam glances down at you. "Oh, yes. It doesn't feel any different, but it would hurt if you tried to lift it."

"Did you... Sew this on?"

"Mmm. I did."

Oh. There's a piece missing there about how Seam is able to feel using a patch of fabric as if it was inherent to the existing nerve system (if one exists?), but you think that's as much information as you should pursue on this right now. You wonder briefly of what would happen if one day Seam's whole body was to be covered in patches so none of the original fur or cloth remained, if Seam would still be Seam, at what point would the original cloth not respond to touch? How would a patch bind to a nervous system? Would the needle or thread need to be enchanted? The thread you see is thick, much thicker than normal sewing thread or medical stitching. Absurdly, you wonder about Seam's thread count, like you'd see on the label of a set of sheets. You shake the thought from your head. You can ask about the specifics later, if you remember.

Scooting down Seam's body, nestling right in the cradle of the pelvis, you move your hands across Seam's lower tummy. You figured initially you'd scope out down here then move back up to sneak some kisses and maybe find a place on Seam's neck to put your mouth, but you feel something under your fingers at the same time Seam brings up a paw to stifle a noise. You pause, and reach out again, trying to find what had caused the reaction. There, raised just above the cloth and so small it could get lost in the long fur, you find... What appears to be a nipple, on Seam's lower stomach. It's on the right, so you mirror your other hand and find another on the left. Further searching (to which you observe Seam blushing hard, eyes shut tightly and refusing to make any sudden noises) reveals five more; six in two rows of three, one toward the center and bottom.

"Huh." You use your indexes and thumbs to rub four of them. "Are they... Sensitive?"

Hazily, Seam nods, not willing to unclamp that paw. There is too much fur for you to use your mouth, but since Seam doesn't look ready to kiss right now, you decide to see how worked up you can get Seam down here before moving between feline legs properly.

Seam trembles under you as you tweak each nipple in turn, feeling them harden under your fingertips. They're smaller than a human's would be, and not attached to any breast tissue that you can see. You know that cats' breasts are only really visible during and after pregnancy, though, so this isn't a surprise. They do have that same fabric texture, though, which is a surprise. Some Darkners don't have the flesh necessary for recreational sex. Those Darkners can learn how to use their magic to create synthetic flesh that responds to touch just as normal skin would. Some Darkners conjure breasts and nipples just because it feels good to, and some are born with them. You didn't expect a Darkner like Seam to have nipples without having to conjure them. If Seam was a normal cat, sure, but one of cloth and thread? Maybe Seam was born, then, and not sewn to life.

Your mind returns to you when you hear two distinct popping noises, and you look to see that Seam's gripping the beanbag so tightly that those claws have put two small punctures in it. You ease off for a moment, looking up apologetically and watching the way Seam trembles, as if caught up in your gentle touches still. By the Angel, Seam is so beautiful. Clearly you're not supposed to be observing the throes of pleasure displayed on that face, clearly there's some embarrassment, and something too close to shame. You can see flashes of black teeth through a gap in the fingers as Seam's chest heaves, like Seam hadn't been breathing. It's true; the purring had stopped and now has started again so forcefully it sounds like sobs. In that moment, you both take pity on Seam and want to tear a scream from that throat.

After only a second, you brush your fingers firmly over Seam's nipples again, then you finally kneel between those legs to see what exactly you'll have to learn how to pleasure. Hindlegs brushing your shoulders, you gaze at the crux of Seam's legs and wonder at why a stuffed cat with already surprisingly realistic anatomy would have need of conjuring a set of genitals. But Seam has conjured one, glowing green, and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief that you won't have too much of an interspecies learning curve. The porn you've seen has shown you that the sky's really the limit for a species that can conjure genitals at will, but Seam's selected bits appear to be a human vagina with an enlarged clit, clearly larger than appears naturally in humans. As it twitches, you idly think that it looks more like a dick than a clit. 

"Hey, is this... You didn't make something human just so I'd be familiar with it?"

Seam peeks down at you. "N-no, this is what I usually make. Is it--" Seam chokes at the sensation of your thumb pressing lightly on the hood "--Does it please you?"

Shamelessly, you stare at the organ in front of you. It's a kind green, with just a tinge of blue, the same as the aura surrounding Seam before and the blush across that face. If you stare closely, you can look through it and see where the ectoflesh melds with the fabric, twining together like they're not even different material, one and the same. Which, you startle to realise, is technically true. You try to suppress the twinge of jealousy that comes from experiencing firsthand what being composed of magic can do for matters of self-expression. Why can Darkners manipulate the magic they're made of, but you can't manipulate the water you're made of?

You abort the thought by smushing your face into Seam's thigh, squeezing your eyes shut and sniffing deeply. Here, Seam has that cat-scent, sweet and alive. The deep breath helps you steel your nerves, and Seam seems to like it, so.

You glide two fingers down the middle of Seam's slit, avoiding the clit for now, and find that Seam is already veritably soaked.

"Oh," you intone while Seam sighs and slumps into the beanbag, as if finally accepting that this is happening. You slowly dip a finger inside and it's velvet all the way through. Not real velvet, but soft and smooth and so very warm. It squeezes around your finger so needily you get goosebumps, feeling the hair raise on your neck. You immediately put in a second one and delight in the gasp that tears from Seam. You smile to yourself, and angle those fingers so when you push them both in to the palm, you can curl them up. You rub slowly, not pushing too hard, searching immediately to find-

"A-Agh?!"

You freeze and leave your fingers right where they are, and you look up to see that Seam has abandoned stifling noises behind a paw in favor of gripping the beanbag just to stay grounded. Eyes cast up to the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream, tail swishing frantically under your arm, Seam almost seems surprised at the pleasure that must be running its course just from gentle, steady pressure against that sensitive spot.

"You like this?"

Slack-jawed and almost looking fearful at what you could do with such a short amount of time, Seam nods. You manage to lock eyes and smile gently.

"I like it too." Your voice comes out coarse, a husky whisper that makes Seam shiver. "I love seeing you feel good, Seam. So don't feel like you have to hide from me. It's just us here."

Seam nods again, but says, "I'll try. It's been a long time since someone has done this to me... And I'm not used to making noises like that."

"Try not to think about it too hard. Don't let the urge to keep quiet get in the way of how you feel, yeah?"

Seam visibly swallows, and you curl your fingers again briefly, taking a perverted sense of pride in the full-body convulsion and shocked gasp. You start moving your fingers, shoving in as deeply as possible and bending them in half-crescents, then straightening them. It's not as vigorous as if you're fingerfucking Seam, but it makes your fingers press into yielding walls in a way that has Seam curling in and whimpering in little "Ah, ah, ah"s that make your heart throb. The tail pulls you in, wrapping around your back and under your other arm and touching your stomach. You push your fingers in as deeply as you can and scissor them, feeling the slick between them and feeling it start to drip down your hand.

Seam, meanwhile, is shaking, tensed in a euphoric state of paralysis, gazing toward you but avoiding your eye, ears flattened in pleasure. The purrs have become jagged, like they're coming out in quick breaths, and there's a strangled whine in the back of Seam's throat just begging to be given shape. You move to wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth and disguise the action by sucking on two of your fingers, getting them slippery, and gently stroking down the hood of Seam's clit, base to tip. Seam's whole body jumps, not having seen what you were doing, and a beautiful mewl rings out, as sweet and encouraging as Seam's laugh but somehow so filthy that it drives a spike of arousal right back through your stomach. Seam is so beautiful. Coming to visit the seap will never be the same, you'll never be able to do it without remembering the face Seam is making right now, and you swear on your fountain you never will forget. You let out a shaky breath, feeling something in you give way, too.

"F-Fuck." You wet your fingers again, twisting the ones inside Seam, and rub circles into the hood, just above where that clit peeks out. You tread lightly at first, watching Seam tremble and moan and feeling that flutter in your chest at the display of trust Seam is giving you to allow you to see the reactions clearly after the earlier hesitance. You increase your pace, feeling the clit shifting from side to side under the hood as you move, feeling it jump under your fingers, and Seam moans gratefully. Juggling the two hand motions, you add a third finger, and Seam falls apart under your hands.

"Ah, please , keep going, keep going, that feels magnificent ." A paw comes up as if to hide part of the face, but alters course and comes to clutch at a broad chest instead. The other paw comes down near your head to play with those nipples, claws tracing small areolas and sending visible shudders through Seam's body with every graze.

You take to fucking Seam in earnest with your fingers, lowering your face to lick that clit softly. Seam yowls , and before you can ask if it's okay, there's already a paw flat on your head, pushing you down. You take it in your mouth, pressing your tongue flat against it, trying not to touch the clit directly knowing that you are bound to by accident. Seam's hips squirm in time with your fingers, now stroking relentlessly inside, twisting, glancing that spot and making Seam exclaim a little more intensely every time.

You wonder if it's cheating that Seam's wrist is obscuring your vision as you gaze up and try to catch an expression, but the noises are worth the tradeoff. Your fingers are being squashed together as Seam's pussy tightens, squelching and dripping right under your chin. Your own arousal has warmed and wetted the inside of your own mouth, and sucking Seam's clit feels almost like making out, though you consciously keep your jaw lax so the clit never has a chance to tilt against your teeth. Seam's claws scratch at your scalp encouragingly, and a scenario flashes through your mind for a moment; you're in a lion's den, being pinned down before being devoured. The paw on your head feels massive enough to belong to a lion, anyway. 

The legs next to your head are trembling, fur pomfed in Seam's version of goosebumps, and they're twitching inwards as if Seam is resisting the urge to wrap them around your neck. Even Seam's tail has stopped its staccato and stiffened, swishing jerkily against your chest. Seam's purring sounds shallow, like in order to truly rumble, that internal engine needs deeper breaths to build inertia.

You form a tighter seal with your lips around Seam's clit, pressing your tongue flat and flexing it from side to side, and you return your fingers to that spot, pressing insistently when you find it. It takes a moment for the pressure to process in Seam's head, but when it does, Seam yowls and kicks out, claws scratching your scalp.

"It's too much-!" Seam's other hand freezes where it's splayed in front of your face, and you very nearly back off when Seam suddenly wails out catastrophically, legs locking around your head. Your body flushes with intensity as Seam writhes, brought down by you, gushing around your fingers, sobbing your name. Time slows down, and Seam is all you can see; your fingers throb in time with the clenching of the cunt around them, and Seam's natural smell is suddenly inescapable, coating the back of your throat in a way that reminds you of clean laundry from the washing machine. In the back of your throat, also, is some of Seam's cum.

"A-ah.... Hah..." Seam is pressing paws to face, hiding again in the aftermath, and you can find no fault in that. You remove your hands gently from Seam's pussy, causing an overstimulated twitch, and scoot up so you can lay on top of Seam. Your legs lock around sturdy hips, and Seam moves one hand to allow you a kiss. Seam's so, so warm, trembling still but wrapping arms around you to pull you in. You feel the purring deep in your soul, vibrating your atoms apart, and all your muscles relax. You kiss Seam gently with your smile, feeling tumbled. Five minutes to end cycle.

"Was it a good end to your dry spell, darling?"

Seam just meows at you. That's fair , you chuckle.

Nuzzling into your face, Seam turns you both onto your sides. There's enough of Seam that you don't even feel like you need a blanket, and Seam certainly doesn't, but the robe that had been cast aside is draped over you anyway, big enough to cover a queen-sized bed. You wriggle your arms out from under it so you can snuggle closer to Seam and tuck into the middle of that tummy, hugging Seam with one arm.

"I think you should give yourself more credit, little human," Seam murmurs as you're just drifting off.

"Hmmn?"

"You think you can't use magic, but what you just showed me can be mistaken for nothing else."

You snicker and press your other hand against Seam's chest. "Oh, quit that." It's warm. Your fingers disappear under the fur, but your head is tucked so it's your moment alone.

"It's true. Magic is just understanding energy in a way that allows you to control it. Being able to read it, being able to shape it to your desire. This is exactly what I mean when I say that listening to the unspoken is a kind of magic." Seam hums thoughtfully. "As far as I'm concerned, you're just as much of a magic user as any other Darkner."

"Hmm. I think I'll need some extra practice, hone my skills. You can be my guide. If that's what it's like to cast magic, I want to learn it until I can get it perfect."

The fur around you raises subtly, and you hear Seam swallow.

"Th- That... Please. There's no one else I'd..." Seam's arm tenses, brings you closer. You don't want to raise your head, but you can't, now. "That is, I would be pleased to enjoy you this way again. Though, I feel that you've been my guide tonight, dear."

You curl closer, pressing your face into the fur. It really is so warm, snuggled up like this, and Seam's breathing is slower than yours by virtue of being much larger than you. There is no one else under the entire dark geyser you'd want to forget about the whole world with, no one who you'd rather turn your face to in the absence of the light. You are lulled to sleep in the gracious arms of the seapkeeper.