splitmemory | riddle/cater shenanigans

He'd gotten Cater to flush from such simple words. Sure, Riddle's own face was burning, but he could easily blame it on the fever, blame it on his cold. Cater had no such thing to blame his own red face on. The very sight of his flushed cheeks sent a rush through Riddle. Oh he could get used to this. That look on his face, the shock, the surprise.

Those stammered little words.

One finger under his chin becomes his thumb pressing against him, his hand fully grabbing his chin now.

"Yes," Riddle confirms, trailing his thumb up to trace Cater's bottom lip. He'd already decided he wanted to do that again with Cater. Not necessarily right now, obviously, but... sometime. Someday soon. If Cater wanted it too. "I do."

Just like that his hand retracts, pulling back from the other boy.

"If you don't, then forget I ever suggested it." Shuffling on the bed, Riddle shifts down against his headboard, pulling his covers up. "I can try to find someone else to learn with, if that's the case. They won't have your expertise," Is that a compliment?? "... but I could make do, as long as I could get my hands on them."

For a moment, Cater's completely frozen as Riddle speaks. On one hand, this energy completely suits the little housewarden, but on the other--where did it even come from?! The older teen finds himself stammering again before remembering himself. He sits up, all wound up, staring Riddle in the face.

Why did it bother him so much, the idea that Riddle was happy to just go to someone else, randomly? What if he asked Trey?!

"There's no need to find anyone else!" He makes the declaration maybe a little too forcefully, clearing his throat. Get my hands on them, Riddle had said. Like, seducing them? OMFG. "I'll do it. Sure, I mean, we've already had sex once, so..."

So it just made sense.

"Spoilers, though: aside from practice, it's a lot of instinct."

Easy wasn't a word that Riddle wanted to use to describe this, to describe flustering Cater. That word wouldn't be accurate. More, he had grown accustomed to what was expected of him, figured out the ways to shock, to surprise. Red was such a pretty color on Cater's face, too, that flush across his cheeks.

... That declaration was made so very quickly, wasn't it? Or was it his imagination?

The smug look on Riddle's face is too obvious. He's won this battle, as he won many of their verbal battles throughout the last two years. Even as he looks back up at Cater, stares right back into his face, he looks oh so very pleased with himself.

"It's settled then. I'm glad to hear it," Shifting slightly, he reaches his hand out, grabbing at one of Cater's, to slip his fingers between his again. Seems he missed the contact and he wasn't going to ask- that's embarrassing.

"... Is it?" This seems to bring on a more thoughtful expression. "So, you're saying... I should go with what feels right in the moment?" His free hand rests under his chin in thought, as if he really WAS treating this like studying, thinking it through.

"If I wanted to, for example, touch you and tease you until you're begging me to let you finish, simply to hear you beg and whine - would that be an instinct I follow in the moment?" How was he able to say that with such a straight face. Riddle, is this something you've thought about?????

So, Cater is finding that Riddle isn't going to need any help learning about dirty talk, because those words coming out his mouth right now, whew! It's very possible he's getting turned on right at this moment, imagining the explicit implications. The scenario is playing out in his head so abruptly that he forgets, for an instant, to actually respond.

"...yes, that would, ah, that would be what you would do."

Seven, he feels so weak, looking at Riddle with that smug little smile on his face. Feeling the burning in his own cheeks.

"Hm..."

This might be easier than he initially thought. Such words easily made Cater's face burn even brighter, to the point where Riddle began to worry if he was getting sick too, now. Or, were his words that effective? As much as he wanted to take advantage of the moment, to pull Cater down into a kiss, to rile him up further...

He'd essentially promised he'd rest until this fever breaks.

"Alright then. If it feels right in the moment the next time we do that sort of activity, I'll go with it." He confirms aloud, squeezing Cater's hand carefully in his own. Had he already said too much, got the other teen thinking too hard on it? ... he hopes so. It was so perfect watching Cater get flustered like this.

Letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Cater slides out of bed--letting his fingers linger in Riddle's until the last second. As easily as Riddle had conjured such a tense, sexually charged energy, he had dismissed it again. Truthfully, Cater wasn't sure just how he felt about being jerked around so easily--and he could feel it, that he was anxious to jump right into Riddle's arms at so much as a command.

"I'm going to bring this back to the kitchen," he says as he retrieves the finished breakfast tray. His eyes catch the red camellia that was still on the nightstand and without giving it too much thought, picks it up and slides it back into place in his hair. He'd have to find a good place for it in his room, where it wouldn't get damaged.

Maybe while he was cleaning up from breakfast, he'd cool off a little.

Had he pushed Cater too hard, already? As much fun as he was having teasing him, the very last thing he wanted to do was make Cater uncomfortable, to push him to a point where he wanted nothing more than to escape. It didn't seem like Cater was upset, even as he gets up from the bed and moves to pick up the tray. With a small nod, Riddle settles himself further into the bed again.

"Eat if you haven't." He 'orders', a soft smile coming to his face as he watches Cater slip the flower back into his hair. Did Cater like it, or was it easiest to carry it that way? He makes a mental note-- get Cater some flowers sometime, as thanks for taking such good care of him during this illness of his.

"And come back after-!" As if he wasn't planning to already.

With a huff of a laugh, Cater sweeps out of the room. It doesn't take him too long to clean up, and downing a quick bowl of porridge for himself before he puts what's left in the fridge doesn't take much longer. It gives him a few minutes to clear his head from all of that...whatever that was.

Once he feels more grounded, he returns to Riddle's bedroom, helping himself to sliding in under the covers. If he's going to be hanging out, he's going to do so at max comfy! This time, he has his phone handy, and he's ready to get to mindless scrolling while Riddle rests away.

By the time Cater's back, regardless of whether it's only a few minutes or several too many, Riddle finds himself already dozing, comfortable under his warm, clean covers. He hadn't quite fallen asleep though, and when Cater slips under the covers, the smaller teen shifts to roll over on his side, his breathing coming out in small huffs.

He felt like shit and, in his mind a little selfishly, wanted to curl up against Cater. His arm slips around the older teen's waist, his cheek pressing against Cater's chest easily, his eyes squeezed shut. It wasn't that he was doing worse-- well, maybe a little, but that was just the way that illnesses like this went, with its ups and downs.

His hand tangles against the fabric of Cater's shirt, head turning to let him bury his face against him. "Ugh..." He mutters, his brow furrowed, body shaking slightly. "... hate being sick." The housewarden adds on, somewhat stubbornly, as if wishing he could do something to wipe it away in an instant.

riddle/cater shenanigans

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