Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10517961.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      モブサイコ100_|_Mob_Psycho_100
  Relationship:
      Kageyama_"Mob"_Shigeo/Reigen_Arataka
  Character:
      Reigen_Arataka, Kageyama_Siblings'_Parents_(Mob_Psycho_100), Kageyama
      "Mob"_Shigeo, Dimple_(Mob_Psycho_100), Kageyama_Ritsu
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, injuries, Animal_Death
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-01 Words: 7052
****** A Cat's Meow ******
by dusktin
Summary
     Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. Mob thinks
     it's a silly saying.
Notes
     Unbetad and done on a complete whim. I don't write much but I read
     that arc and it wrecked me I got into Mob Psycho late. Comments/kudos
     anything is appreciated.
Mob yawned. Dimple had went to pester his brother, so it was blessedly quiet at
the time being. The day had been uneventful and his master was boarding up the
place.
“What a boring day.” He was still brooding it seemed and Mob spared him a
glance. “Mob, time to go home.”
All he got accomplished was schoolwork and nothing of the spiritual type. Yet
Mob didn't quite care, although his master had complained loudly about the day.
The sun was setting, dusk soon approaching nighttime. Streaks of blue had
appeared in the blood orange skyline, apex into the warmness of the fading sun.
“Okay, goodbye.”
Shouldering his schoolbag more comfortably, he left to his house. On his way,
the street lights had flickered on and he saw a lot of cats had begun to trail
him like silent companions. Keeping his eyes on them, he kept glancing back
until they had swarmed him. Some pawed at him, as if he had food though he
didn't have any. His bento box was emptied and he didn't know if cats could
digest rice grains.
Normally felines wouldn't come up to him unless he persuaded them with anything
fish and milk related but they clambered onto him.
“Oh hello,” he lowered himself to the ground, crouching onto his knees. Bold, a
few go into his lap and seat themselves there or prop their paws to his arms,
tiny claws prickling through his uniform. They were dirty, but it didn't
detract from their cuteness, as he petted the friendly ones that aren't as
skittish. Somehow, there are still scratches that welt up on his hands.
Their mewls are pitiful and Mob’s heart pangs.
He cradled a kitten that had almost topside over his arms and it puffed up into
his hands. “No one wants you huh?”
Purrs of contentment resounded around him and it calmed Mob, therapeutic. Cats
aren't as cooperative as the ones that were by him and he spent a few minutes
petting through them until he saw how dark it had become.
Extracting himself from them he tried to shoo them gently off, and made his way
back home.
However, some still tailed him and Mob knew that his parents would reprimand
him if he brought home stray animals again.
The frog incident came to the forefront of his mind.
Before he could carry it out a car had come tearing before there were heavy
thuds and he turned around quickly. Taking refuge behind a lamppost, Mob peeked
from it. A car had run over the cats, the ones who had survived the collision
scattered. The ones who had been hit laid limply, or hobbled meowing piteously.
The car hadn't even stopped, it was long gone and something inside Mob boiled.
Treading to the scene, he saw the bloodied bodies of the animals and knew that
he couldn't do anything for them.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he repeated as the noises eventually withered around
leaving behind the husks of once alive cats. “I can't do anything.”
His sorrow can be the only remedy to it.
His heart slumped in his chest, his hands shaking, and he fisted them into his
sleeves. He couldn't bury them because the risk of getting dirt and blood would
upset his family. There weren't nearby grounds to dig through, cemented from
the adjacent houses and yellow and white striped streets.
“Your brother is looking for you.” The voice made him jolt and Mob whisks
around and sees Dimple who then surveys what had transpired. “What happened
here?”
Mob swallows, and tried to unclench his hands. The joints were mechanic, as if
locked in position.
“They...they got ran over…” Mob said, a tremble in his voice. “I couldn't stop
it.”
Dimple doesn't bat an eye. “I thought cats had nine lives. Well, what can you
do.” Dimple floated from him looking back. “C’mon then.” Mob willed himself to
not look back and he continued on his trek home, the prickling sensation of
guilt sitting in his guts.
+
A bird chirps by the window, the spring breeze slipping through the cracks of
his window. Tittering, it flies away.
It's still chilly, in the transition between seasons but Mob doesn't mind it as
much. The draft causes his eyelids to flutter, his clothes not protecting him
from the chill. Roused, his mother’s voice wafts through the walls along with
the aroma of breakfast.
What happened from the previous night are not forgotten on him, and he sees his
hands with the healing scratches. His stomach gurgled empathetically.
His brother waits for him usually now, and they exchange casual conversation
with their parents chiming in. Chopsticks don't bend as easily as spoons, but
do snap, as Ritsu chides him and repairs it before Mob can offer his thanks and
apology. After a few mouthfuls he's cognizant that his younger brother is
openly staring at him, mostly his hands. Mob moves them to his lap.
“Why’d you get home so late? Did Reigen keep you there for that long?” Mob
shook his head, remembering how he barely acknowledged his younger brother when
arriving home. Dimple had made himself scarce and Mob assumed he went over to
Reigen’s.
Then Ritsu doesn't question him, instead moving on to other topics that Mob
responds to after prompting.
Their mother tells them they'll be late and they shuffle around until they're
on the route to school.
+
Class is unvaried and Mob doses through most of the morning until lunchtime. He
doesn't sleep because he's afraid he'll dream of the night before. At lunch,
there isn't any milk, Mob opting for the vending machine. Yet there isn't any
plain milk, strawberry and banana the alternatives. Or coffee milk but he
couldn't fathom why people didn't choose between coffee or milk, they were two
different things that shouldn't be mixed.
Banana is a close second to favorite and he slides in the coins, pushing on the
buttons. The machine makes a gurgling sound and the milk doesn't dispense. Mob
tries it again and then a third but it doesn't budge. At this moment, there
isn't a time where he wanted to use his powers the most but he sighs turning
from it. Normality was what he wanted the most.
He knew that his master kept some stashed somewhere in the office but he didn't
know where.
Lunch would be ending soon and Mob walks back to class as he doodles a cow in
the margins of his notebook. He tries to take his mind off the onslaught of
what had happened but soon the cow somehow warps into a black cat. Mob
scribbles it out with a shaky hand.
+
Afterwards he goes to the pathway home when he finished his club activities.
Panting slightly from over exerting himself again, he wipes at his brows
feeling more tired than winded. Brushing it off, he’s almost home when he gets
a phone call.
He knows it's Reigen because he's solely the one that would call him at the
most unconventional times but Mob answers it regardless.
“Mob can you stop by the office? It seems we may be ghost hunting.” Before he
can reply, the dial tone echoes in his ear and he glimpses down at his phone.
Re-routing himself, he soon comes upon the shop and enters. Reigen takes his
attention off his clients and waves him over, Dimple occupying himself by
darting around.
Reigen pompously boasts. “Here he is my apprentice. He's still learning but can
be quite reliable.” Sliding his backpack off he goes over to the man and
glimpses at the clients. A child and her mother.
Unlike most clients, the woman is exceptionally pretty and the child seems
ordinary enough, bobbing pigtails and the standard elementary clothing with a
yellow cap. The girl is fixated on Dimple and giggles when he waggles his
tongue out that Mob guesses is to be menacing.
Children were more attuned to spiritual things than adults, Mob had thought to
himself.
Mob looks to Reigen for information and the man fills him in. “So this kid
claims that there's something odd happening around town. Heard from her friends
that we can solve it.” He leans into his rickety chair. “Go ahead you can
explain it to him.”
The little girl is flustered but her mother gently smiles and she clings to the
reassurance. “Uh...I was playing in the park and I saw a kitten.” She twiddles
her digits onto her mother’s dress as Mob is taken back from the mention of the
animal. It doesn't show on his face but something spikes higher inside him. “I
wanted to pet it, so I got near it, but as soon as I did it was gone…” she
thought hard, face worked up in frustration, “and I passed out…”
The mother took it from there as her daughter fell quiet, her bravado
dispersing. “When I found her I was frightened…” she turns to the girl,
threading her fingertips at her pinned back bangs. “Sweetie can you show them?”
Tugging at her mother’s dress indecisively, she works up the courage and inches
down her high socks. Black veins rear themselves on her thin limbs, and it
appears painful. Reigen brow’s are furrowed as he took in the new tidbit of
information.
Mob kneels down to the girl as she pulls them back up. “Does it hurt?”
The girl contemplates. “Just a little, mommy had to carry me here because she
was afraid that I may hurt myself again.”
The woman clasps her hands in her lap, putting on a brave front. “I had taken
her to the doctor but he couldn't find anything wrong with her. But I'm afraid
that if we don't figure it out many other children may get hurt.” There was a
beat of silence and Reigen drastically and dramatically launched himself from
the chair.
“Worry no more because we’ll do it free of charge,” Mob is surprised because he
never takes anything for free.
He himself said nothing in the world came free, unless you were to steal it for
yourself. That had been instilled in him and Mob glances to Reigen who winks to
him.
“Oh really? Thank you so much!” The woman was overjoyed and the child grins big
and then Mob understands why he had said it. The happiness from them surges
onto him and makes him a tad better. “We hope it won't cause you too much
trouble!”
With enough pleasantries, they're ushered out and Reigen adjusts his tie and
peers out the blinds.
“Tell me Dimple,” Dimple lazily eyed the man, “what type of perverse spirit
tortures kids for fun.”
“I don't know,” Dimple gives the equivalent of a shrug and Mob didn't know
either. Whatever that thing did made his stomach lurch and Reigen pirouettes
back to him, a swift seriousness underneath his jackknife grin.
“Phone in your folks Mob because we’re going ghost hunting.”
+
His parents had agreed under certain circumstances (not as much as his
brother), and Mob and Reigen had scoured the city, as it descended into night.
They had gone to multiple parks but there hadn't been anything paranormal or
out of the ordinary weird besides Reigen mistaking a balding man for the
suspect.
“I don't think the trash can is haunted master,” Mob leans his head to where
Reigen is half into the garbage disposal and whisks himself out when he’s about
to fall in. Dimple was sent out to report if anything odd was happening while
they wedged themselves in the nooks and crannies of the city.
“Don't knock until you try, it's amazing what people overlook. Besides, no one
is out this late unless they're drunk.” Reigen flicks at his bangs. When he
does that he looks toward the shadows behind the trash he strolls over to a
corner and crouches down.
“Master?”
“Have you seen any odd activity around here?” A pause. “No?” Mob bends over
him, to see over him. The thing he's talking to bolts off and Reigen makes a
grab for it before landing onto his face into the asphalt. It melds into the
shadow and Mob helps him up as the man sneers after it. “This is why I like
dogs better. Throw them a bone and they'll run a mile. Cats are too fickle.
They're assholes too.” Inwardly Mob disagrees with him.
Before long, they amble to the more packed complexes of the living, inhabitants
already asleep and Mob feels himself drifting off.
“You can't sleep on me now Mob! You don't even have school tomorrow so you
can't use that excuse.” The man raps him on his head and Mob steps from him
with a yawn. “Have you been getting enough sleep?” The night before he hadn't
had a nightmare but had been trapped in a bottomless pit of slumber, and it had
felt wrong.
“Yes,” he mumbles because it is true that he had slept and Reigen leaves him
alone and rambles off in a tangent of unimportance. They're nearing the
walkways to individual buildings that are bordered by neighboring houses when
they see a green orb.
“You two, I think I may have found our culprit.” At their feet, Dimple presents
them with a cat, that has Reigen thumbing at his chin.
“I can't tell if this is the one before or another one. There are so many that
laze around.” The feline hisses at them and takes off and they let it, Mob
feeling worse than he had before.
However Reigen clues in, recognition alighting his face. “Wait a minute I think
Dimple may be right!”
“Of course I'm right idiot.”
Reigen ignores the statement and gestures his pointer finger out.
“Anyway, the veins on the little kid’s leg didn't really look like it, right
Mob?” Mob nodded, scrapping the details back into his brain. “When I was a kid
I petted enough strays to know what those were.”
“What?” Dimple hadn't pieced it together but it clicks for Mob.
“Veins aren't straight they branch off. Those were cat scratches weren't they?”
His own brand his skin and he rubs at it. Mob’s back is clapped on and Reigen
beams to him.
“But the question is why are they black? It could be that it scabbed over but I
have to be sure.” Reigen looks to Dimple. “Lead the way to where you found the
kitty.”
+
They've come in a full circle and when Mob fully grasps onto where they are
he’s sickened to the core. Washed away stains are still as prevalent as the
prior night on the pavement and Dimple begins to talk.
“I overheard conversations from the people here that the garbage men had taken
away dead cats from before. Mob had been here.” From that Reigen studies his
pupil as the boy moved from one foot to the other.
“You could have told me,” Mob gulps.
“I don't want to think about it.” Is what is snipped out and Reigen just stares
at him. Mob can't identify what or why he's doing it.
Before he can the street bulbs, crackle with an upsurge in electricity and pop
out. Reigen holds up his phone and it illuminates their surroundings. The lack
of the humming streetlights leaves a destitute feeling behind. Then a cat steps
out of the shadows and then a multitude surround them, as if they were from the
darkness itself.
The moon balances overhead, freshly new.
“Creepy. Mob exorcise them.” Reigen languidly commands but Mob can't find
himself too. The action isn't dismissed on Reigen who is increasingly worried
by it.
The roil in his stomach makes Mob uneasy but he acknowledges his master.
“I don't know if I can even exorcise animals,” Mob admits but he holds up his
hand, a spark of power spurting out. Intensifying it whips on their clothes
until Mob puts down his hand, melancholic.
The cat's eyes reflect ominously off him and he's going to be sick. His body is
heavy, hurting and he grabs to his stomach. He goes to turn away, over to the
sideline a hand to his mouth.
“I don't think…”
“Mob?” Reigen steps towards him as he sees the boy shaking. A cold sweat shone
underneath his bangs and he violently shuddered. Then the cats collectively
yowled and went for them. The barrier around them keeps the spirits at bay as
Mob subconsciously protects them but he’s stumbling to his knees, hands
grinding into cobbled limestone, red and soiled under his knuckles.
“Mob!” He's vomiting, it's black and tar thick, going through the gaps in his
hand, expelling it out of him and he wheezes, coughs and collapses into it. It
smears wetly onto him and he whimpers, dismayed.
The scratches feel horrible, pressing into him.
Negativity spread throughout him and his powers flare out, his hair dancing and
then the tears flood his vision. He can't tell if it's from sadness or that he
had puked.
Whisked into arms, his watery eyes pinpoint the gritting teeth of Reigen, his
head throbbing too much and he can see Dimple transforming and yelling at them.
His abilities go to a stalled halt, hazed and foggy.
Jostled around, his head goes lopsided onto the cheap fabrics of his master’s
suit and sighs laborious. He just needs to go to sleep despite the protesting
from his rational side and Reigen who's still distantly shouting at him.
He sleeps anyway, victim to it.
+
A dead black cat lays at his feet.
The pooling blood seeps into his egg shelled white shoes and he knows his
brother won't be pleased with that. They were his after all.
Milk is jammed into his mouth by a laughing crowd and it comes out of his eyes
and mouth, as he hacks it up and is burned by humiliation. Their masked by
looming costumes and he's sick, so sick.
Laughter unravels into bestial shrieks and Mob screams and curls into himself,
screams louder than he ever had before. Louder it makes his eardrums pop. A box
cutter stabs him, the assailant isn't known as he falls onto his side, trying
to wrench it out of his belly but it disappeared in, deeper and deeper.
The headlights of a car erupt into his peripherals, the horn blared and that's
when he awoke.
From before he doesn't feel the phantom pains, instead a dull emptiness that
had managed to worm itself into him and opens his eyes blearily. His body is
leaden and groggy, confused at what time it is and whether it should be getting
up.
“You're awake. I called your parents and you aren't going anywhere anytime
soon. So rest assured—” he stops and lets out a sigh. Mob cranes his head to
the source of the sound. “You really scared me back there.” His tone is softer,
vulnerable than Mob had ever heard and Mob searches his face.
His master is disheveled, his white collared dress shirt still blackened and
there are noticeable lines underneath his eyes that would become eyebags. Mob
lets out a breath, freshening his lungs. It's stale, the air, and he parts his
lips.
“How long was I out?”
“A few hours. Dimple went to tell your brother what went down.” Mob didn't like
upsetting his brother but he was too tired to dwell further on it.
“What's happened?”
“I don't know.”
“Maybe...maybe you were cursed. Like that time when that guy put a curse on
me.”
Mob ponders on it. “Can animals even do curses?”
Reigen idles on himself, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it. He's
seated beside Mob, crouched on the ground beside his bed. Mob wasn't even aware
he was on his bed, and he sees that they're in a sparse room, a computer and
chair tucked into the opposite wall and his outer suit and lucky tie on a
hanger of the sliding closet.
“Anything can be cursed if they can hold onto a grudge. But why of all people
did it choose you?” From his inference, Mob was one of the most harmless people
when he wanted to be, and the fact that he never used his powers for that
reason made him perplexed. Mob was too sweet for his own good if anything.
The boy eyes at the shades and kept silent. Deciding to give it time as grief
was a delicate thing, Reigen got up. “You can take a shower before me, we need
to get you cleaned up.”
Mob agreed with him, sitting up but vertigo overcame him and Reigen caught him
by the arms. “Careful.”
The layout of his apartment is modest, quaint and not as extravagant as the
owner. Mob lets him guide him to the bathroom, lagging behind him as he's
handed a change in clothing and a linen towel. He held it to his chest as the
door shut.
Steam billows around himself, soaking into his weary bones, as he stood.
Humidity from the water stings at him but Mob scrubs at the sooty liquid that
had cloaked itself on him. If it was a curse, then he could easily get rid of
it from his powers but Mob didn't think that it was that. The soap smelled like
his master and Mob colored at using the same one.
Rinsing his hair, and he dried himself off and pulled on the shirt. There
hadn't been any underwear but he doubt it could fit him when the pajama pants
dropped pathetically off his spindly legs.
Leaving the towel and pants in the hamper, he went back to the room and sat on
the bed, waiting as the shower started up.
“Mob why'd you take it so hot? I’m being cooked!” Comes a shriek and a
resonating thump and his antics make Mob smile, diminutive and secretive in the
concaves of the room.
He's almost to the brink of falling asleep again when the door opens and
footsteps come near as he gets up. Reigen has on grey sweats and when he seems
him he sputters.
“Where are the pants I gave you?!”
“Didn't fit,” he crooks out a leg and Reigen eyes skim up it, drawn by the
dainty complexion before he snaps to attention.
“Well let's get to sleep,” Reigen said and heads out back to the living room,
but a hand on the hem of his shirt makes him stop. Mob ducks his head down.
“Can you, stay with me?”
The inquiry makes Reigen’s pulse throb and he swallows his leadened tongue and
lets out a foolproof smile instead.
“If it'll help.” Mob wouldn't say it out loud but he knows it'll help
immensely.
Being close to someone, especially his master, is comforting.
+
A passing vehicle lets fluorescent lights flit over them and Mob shrinks from
the window. Reigen can't sleep. Neither can Mob. They had crammed themselves on
the tiny bed, cramped but it somehow supported them and worked. They both face
the other way, Reigen conscious to how close they are to one another while Mob
thinks the exact opposite. When he gets closer his breath whisped against his
nape and Reigen suppressed a screech.
“I was petting them and because they kept following me.” The soft-spoken voice
is almost a whisper, like he's in a church telling him in a confessional.
Reigen stiffens but doesn't move from him. Instead he listens. Mob keeps his
view on the ceiling, a solace.
“They didn't see the car coming. I didn't see it too. I couldn't help them and
I...stood there.”
“What about the car?” Mob bristles not at the question but at the bitterness of
how cruel humans could be if capable.
“They drove off.”
Reigen tsks. “A selected few of the population can just be shitty and
irredeemable.”
There's a pause that elongates into a unsettling silence and Mob speaked, only
adding to it.
“Still...if I could have done something I would. But I couldn't…” his throat
closes up and he huddled in the swathy blankets as a safeguard. The despair he
feels has not gone away or lightened, burdening the boy.
“It's my fault isn't it? All of this.”
That cues Reigen to finally switch his side, and he faces inward to the boy.
His hair is askew, not brushed through and tangles so he cards his fingers
through it and Mob gives, eyes slanting from his touch.
“No, it's not your fault. No one could have predicted that it could happen.”
The sincerity pierces through him but Mob doesn't appear convinced and weaves
his fingers into the larger one that had come and rest at his cheek.
“I had a nightmare. It was unpleasant and very dark.” He huddles in, as if he
could escape the dark that shrouded them. Reigen may not have the solution for
their current predicament but he could solve this one. Kicking off the covers,
he went over to his computer and raised the settings to the highest brightness
and left it open. Monitored light filtered through the room and he got back
into bed and saw Mob’s expression. Gratitude. At least that’s what he had
thought originally.
“Thank you.” The hand found either side of his face and Mob only gazed at him,
and Reigen knew that he had helped. His hands encased his and he inclined his
head to touch foreheads. Mob seemed surprised but then did something more
unexpected, more daring, tilting his head upwards that his lips went onto
Reigen’s. The gesture could be a token of his gratitude but Reigen didn't take
it as such.
Reigen should have expected it but he was startled from the contact and jumped
back from it. Mob’s upper lip was nudged by a tooth and he nursed it.
“Sorry, but Mob why'd you do that?” Mob had rubbed at his mouth until numbness
had set in and let his hand hang at his side.
“I don't know. I do know that I want to do it again,” Reigen flushed at the
straightforwardness, but then again Mob had a straightforward nature for
someone so young.
Mob was young, Reigen shouldn't be doing this. He was so foolish, they both
were. Immoral thoughts wrapped him in a vice and what had happened would cause—
“Master,” his hand clasped to his, finding it through the bedsheets and Mob
squeezed it but it really felt like he was squeezing his heart in the palm of
his hand. The organ thudded around in his chest, frantic. Mob had his heart
entirely. “You mean a lot to me.”
His words weren't exactly a love confession, or poetic enough to be in a love
letter for wax poetry but it was coming from his dear student and to Reigen
that's all that mattered, it was Mob.
“You mean a lot to me too. Too much really.” With that he took the opportunity
to kiss him, soft enough for him to break from it if he was scared. Only he
didn't, holding onto his arms, and he cupped his face, his lips against the
pursed ones that hinted at tasting of confectionary milk. Mob tastes cinnamon
from his toothpaste, a fire on his tongue. His other hand stroked through Mob’s
locks of hair and Mob’s hands purchased themselves on his shoulders, clenching
into his skin and rumpling into the clothes. Mob did lean away for a breath of
air as Reigen thumbed at his lips, swiping idly at the lower one.
That probably was his first kiss as it certainly wasn't Reigen's. The
sloppiness from it was evidence of that and the pinkish hue that was creeping
onto Mob’s face.
Kissing him deeply, he drew him closer until they were pressed together and his
hand came to push up his shirt, exposing the paling skin that contrasted his.
His stomach was softened from the shower he had taken, taut from his leaning
back and his nipples were florid and Reigen teased a finger over one.
A tongue went across his lips and Reigen let his mouth open, his tongue licking
across the rows of teeth as Mob exhaled out heavily, his hands coming to his
forearms. A moan leaked out and Reigen let Mob feel what he was doing to him,
his hips against him. The hard shape makes Mob stare down and Reigen stopped
kissing him to tilt his head up, though his eyes don't meet his.
“What is it?”
“Can I...?” He stops and instead reaches down and tugs at the waistband of his
sweats. Reigen watched as the boy took in the sight, the ruddiness going to his
cheeks and traveling to his neck and ears.
Wetness nudged onto the head of his erection before to the vein that ran down
it as Mob took as much as he could. His hands grappled onto his pants, hot skin
hidden under that. Reigen let out a exhale of heated air, making sure he didn't
thrust into his mouth.
“Don't scarf it down,” Reigen grunted and Mob glanced up with him, the head of
his cock outlining the contour of his mouth. His belly twitches lowly with
heaping anticipation. Although inexperienced, Reigen appreciated his
inquisitive attempts, the boy mouthing along what hadn't been touched yet. He's
dutifully into what he's doing and it makes Reigen’s stomach twitch.
For a few moments he let him, until he took him as far as he could the
underside of his jaw skidding over his length as he accidentally thrusted into
it. Mob gagged but didn't spit him out completely and Reigen apologized.
“Is this okay?” Mob nodded, the sensation of molars against his flesh making
Reigen bite the webbing flesh inside his mouth, Reigen hands straining into his
hair.
Mob eye’s met his, nails prickling into him. His hips rotated and Mob dragged
his tongue over and Reigen pulled out. Saliva dropped from his lips and Mob
wiped it away before, swiveling his tongue at the engorged tip and took him in
slowly until Reigen groaned, hips moving automatically. Flicking his tongue
again, Reigen came, thrusting harshly into his mouth.
Mob coughed, but swallowed it with an exhausted huff and sat back on his
haunches. Reigen was mortified.
“You're not supposed to drink that it's not like it's milk!” Using his shirt as
a napkin, he swabbed at the remaining substance and sighed. Mob shifted his
legs together and Reigen peered down. A hand came to part his thighs, another
hand went between them but it came up with stickiness and Reigen was
incredulous.
“You already came?” Reddening eartips, stick out from his messy hair and his
teeth furrow into his lips.
“I don't really touch myself there. We were taught about it and some boys do it
but I didn't think it was like that,” Reigen was astounded and he dried his
hand off in his clothes.
“Mob we can continue.” Reigen angles himself until he hunkers over the boy.
“Unless you want to stop.”
Mob rejected the suggestion. “No. I trust you.” The simplicity in his words
made Reigen resign himself and he whisked his shirt up. It wasn't as big as
his, but Mob was stuck in the limbo of his body transitioning. Reigen twisted
him in his hand until he was satisfied from the sweaty clump that Mob had been
reduced to.
Fumbling for the drawer, Reigen takes out ointment and considers it viable. His
own thighs breach Mob’s and he dips his fingers in the lubricant as Mob follows
it with an inquiring glance.
“What's that?”
“So it won't hurt you,” Mob nods and Reigen puts pressure on the hole before
delving into it. It's not much, up to the knuckle and Mob’s panting, his legs
locked and Reigen rubs at his belly in patterns. “You're doing so good. Just a
little more okay?” Mob nods, shy from the praise. Reigen notes that Mob feeds
off his praise, much to his ego's arrogance.
He pushes further and crooks a finger inward and a stilted gasp comes from the
boy, his body trying to seek out relief. Another finger adds and another and
Reigen stretched him out to where his breathing isn't as pained and melting
into the littlest sighs from it.
He lets his fingers glide in and out, engulfed in the overbearing heat and
slickness. Mob is already filled with the sensation, as the fingers prod inside
and make him stutter on his inhale.
“Does it feel better now?” His tone is rumbling, and it makes Mob abashed.
“Y—yes.” Reigen takes that to be an affirmative thing.
The hand that's soothing him goes up to his clavicle and traces to his neck
before Mob clamps onto it, licking at the fingers and nibbling marks into it.
Reigen’s erection jerks with newfound interest and he withdraws his warmed
fingers that Mob looks to, toes curled into the stitching of the bedding.
Whipping off his shirt, Mob’s pupils enlarges and he peers away.
“What is it?” Reigen makes his way over to him as Mob avoids him. The shyness
he exhibits makes him more innocent than Reigen would have thinked, while Mob
covertly stared at Reigen.
Covering himself with it, his erection edges itself into the loosened opening,
as Reigen eased it in. Mob sucks in a breath, his hands coming to scrabble at
Reigen’s arms and he lets him scratch into them as he seat himself to the base.
The hand that had been at Mob’s mouth goes to his rump, pinching at the flesh
there and fingering the crease down to the opening where they're joined at.
Mob takes in the intrusion, rocking a bit on it as Reigen holds him up onto the
pillows. Mob can clearly smell the cleanliness of the soap that they had shared
and is aware of the hand that pushes his bangs back, fingers hospitable and
welcomed.
“Okay,” Mob mutters after a while and Reigen can't contain himself, pushing
back out from the ache of the tightness making it harder for him to steady
himself.
Mob gasps sweetly and can't catch his breath as Reigen drives himself back in,
a hand lingering on his chest as the other nimbly went over the ridges of his
ribcage. He admires the fragile structures that compose Mob and the arms that
encase him make Mob hot, buttered by the contact that he was given and shared
with.
It boxes him in as Reigen kisses at his skin, pressing his lips to meld onto
the warmth before Reigen reaches his mouth. Chapped but warmed over, Mob lets
his hand come to entangle itself in Reigen's sunny hair, slightly damp from the
shower and rapturous.
Mob smiles into the kiss and he lets Reigen see that, the man jacking his hips
upwards that hits into Mob and makes him whimper, muffled out onto his skin as
Reigen takes that in, goosebumps forming.
“It feels good…” Mob leaves the sentence undone as Reigen's picks up the
tension, from the bunched up muscle that meets his thighs and Mob has his legs
curve to Reigen’s hips, his own trying to match to the others.
Letting his lips imprint on the corner of the other mouth, Mob feels a building
pull on his underbelly and interlocks them together, his hand finding the one
that's lazing around on his chest. He brings it to the center, the roar of his
thumping oversized cavity beneath their hands.
The noises Mob allows out of him are cut-off and loud, with outbursts of
‘master’ (Reigen prefers his name), unexpected from a quiet boy like him but
Reigen wants more, wants to hear it all and he invokes it out of him with each
movement.
From Reigen the drawn out sighs and scrunched up space between his eyebrows has
Mob entrances as he drinks it in to become an afterimage in his eyes, not
taking his eyes from him.
Reigen's cock pulsates and he jackhammers his tempo, harsh and unyielding that
forces Mob to take gulps of oxygen as if his lungs are consumed in dioxin and
he strays his fingers to Reigen’s face.
They both come, Reigen before Mob as he continues thrusting, a hand going down
and palming him until Mob comes after, coating his palm. Mob tightened around
him as Reigen stills, head bowing to entice Mob into another kiss.
He rolls off, hand going to where his attire had went off the bed and cleaned
themselves off and threw it back somewhere. “Let's get some sleep now,” Reigen
said and puts Mob near to his chest. Reigen smoothed down his flyaway hair, as
Mob crowds himself partially onto him.
Reigen lets himself succumb to slumber, thoroughly tired by the day. His body
craved a smoke but Reigen doubts he has any left and is already asleep before
he could follow through with pertaining it.
Mob couldn't yet, despite his body telling him to, brain erratic. On bare skin,
Mob is at unrest until the lull of the heart against Reigen’s sternum convinces
him otherwise.
He doesn't dream of anything else but pleasant desires and his love for milk
and doesn't wake for several hours more.
+
Mob wakes first, having no recollection of his dreams that were beginning to
ebb and flow off into the air, and he could barely recall the vivacity with
what he associated was the night and the blurring events from before.
Reigen cushions himself around him and Mob disengages him off from him, taking
his arms off. Unsurprisingly, the man goes back into the bed, receding into the
mattress and blankets.
Straightening the borrowed shirt, it drags off his shoulder as Mob makes him
breakfast while Reigen slept in, tossing the covers over to shield from
lengthening rays of the sun.
The idea for breakfast was to show his sentiments to the other. Also that Mob
had skipped dinner too but mostly from his idea.
In his house, Mob makes the choice to use the psyche transference as the sparse
ingredients consisting of toast and eggs, the carton of coffee and milk waltzed
into mugs that sat on the table.
The oiled eggs sizzling in the pan has Reigen up like clockwork, as he sprawled
out, soothing the itch under his sweatshirt and cricks in his back.
Footsteps cause Mob to greet the man, with a piping hot breakfast and amiable
smile on his lips.
He's happy and that's all that mattered to Reigen, the minuscule smile growing
to a proportion that Reigen hadn't experienced yet. His shirt that droops off
Mob is irresistible and Reigen takes a liking to the picture, haywire hair and
the smile that graces his features.
“Good morning.”
Reigen forks the egg onto his toast as Mob chugs the milk from a chipped mug.
It's Reigen’s favorite, abused from his routine of coffee, to curb his
addiction to cigarettes and alcohol.
Only for the mornings however.
“Good morning.”
They eat their dinner in a fleeting quietude as they both overviewed what had
happened. It was eating Mob up from how he was fidgeting and Reigen gets up to
put his plate and silverware in the sink. Not before he kisses the crown of
Mob’s hair that makes several things in his kitchen move inches, as Mob
occupied himself with his food.
“You need to eat, you did puke up a lot the night before.” Reigen offhandedly
said as he pours himself an abundance of coffee, spilling before Mob rights it
for him.
“Alright.”
He wanted to put his forehead back onto Mob's and take his temperature, so
cliched but Reigen restrained himself. Instead Reigen goes to sit back in his
chair taking a long sip, looking at Mob. As the boy began to eat he decided to
tell him a probable solution to the hauntings.
“It might not work but it's worth a try. Don't you think Mob?”
Polishing off his plate and cup, Mob nodded, thrilled at what his master had
proposed.
+
A shrine had been placed by the lamppost to where the incident had happened.
Simplistic trinkets, food and cat toys as Reigen and Mob stepped back as they
assessed their handiwork.
“That should work. Their spirits can rest now.” The man cleans his hands off,
as he steps toward the shop. “Let's go Mob.”
Yet Mob does move, rooted in place. In the sun beams that shone on them, Reigen
thinks that he's never seen the boy as insecure and he wants to take that away.
Flowers bloom at their feet, an offering in a stained glass vase that Mob fixes
his eyes to.
“Master...I don't think I was cursed.” Mob stares down at the memorial site as
Reigen approached him.
“I think I felt their emotions—it was awful, what had happened to them. They
didn't want to be forgotten, left behind. They didn't deserve it.” A hand is at
his shoulder and Mob lets it stay there as he smiled.
“Yet when I look down at this I feel...pleased.” His heart is lighter than
before. “I can't explain it but I don't feel sick anymore.” The scars at his
fingers weren't as noticeable, waning. With that Mob gazed to Reigen. “I think
they're at peace now.” Mob hopes that he's right.
Reigen inputs his own wondering. “You know, there's this saying that curiosity
killed the cat,” Mob waits for him to finish it and Reigen does. “But
satisfaction brought it back.” Mob thinks it's a silly saying.
Reigen takes his hand, prodding him to walk with him. Mob let's him as they
walk together, not towards the office but a takoyaki restaurant.
“Well in kitty-cat heaven they can use the rest of their eight lives for
wagering. Let's go get some lunch now.” He ends it with a chuckle.
The hand around his holds him tenderly, over his wounds. Eventually, Mob links
his fingers through his.
“Yes master.”
On their way, on the blocky fencing around the neighborhood in the greenery,
Mob spots a white cat. Pure white. It meows a greeting at him before it
vanishes into the bushels of cotton blue hydrangeas.
Mob grins and asks his master if he could get a double order of takoyaki which
Reigen replies with a scoff then a smile as they leave, hand in hand.
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