splitmemory | The Care and Keeping of Bunnies

The tension in the air could be sliced with even a dull blade, so thick that Rayne could feel it weighing down on his chest. How annoying. His gaze isn't as harsh as it could be, even as his eyes narrow, his chin tilts up, and he looks out on a small group of students nearby, who seemed to be chatting about something nonsensical, obvious only by the way one of them had their phone out, showing the other two some picture.

"Right." Rayne agrees lightly, with a side-eye towards Cater. He doesn't believe those words. People were scared of him, not encouraged. That was what he aimed for, sure, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. "Well. Good work." With that, Rayne seems like he's done with this 'conversation'. Where did he have that he could go? It doesn't seem like he has a plan, even as he begins to step away from Cater.

There it is, that cold shoulder, refusing to continue acknowledging his existence at all, as if they hadn't even begun to move past it.

Cater feels a stab of something unpleasant inside of him, when Rayne moves to walk away, when he won't even look at him. It was almost like they'd started over completely, or maybe this was even worse. To be completely shunted was a whole new level, compared to just being regarded with derision. He doesn't want to watch Rayne walk away, so before he can talk himself out of it, Cater decides to try just one more time.

"Hey, thanks!" He sidesteps in the direction Rayne has turned before he can get too far. "You said you don't eat snacks, but try some out, okay? I made sure there was a little bit of everything--if you find one you like, I'll make sure we have some for our next study sesh."

Had Rayne not been clear with Cater? Were all his looks, all his actions, for nothing? The glares, the cold attitude, the refusal to so much as look Cater in the eye, the pain that he inflicted on him for something as simple as a kiss that he enabled. The other teen steps to stop him, to keep him there for even a moment longer. Rayne knew better than to let this continue like this, if Cater wasn’t going to get the hint.

Rayne reaches out, his hand grasping onto the collar of Cater’s shirt, pulling him in so Rayne could look down on him. “Stop trying to be so friendly with me. We aren’t friends. We never will be friends. Get it through your head, Cater.” Rayne states, tone snappy, short. “I’m only helping you out of obligation. Not because I care about you.” Cater’s shirt is released then, and, again, he moves to get away from this conversation, from Cater as a whole.

When Rayne grabs him, Cater's smile falls. It was even too much for him to romanticize the moment, to think that Rayne was pulling him in for something like another kiss. No, the energy was all off, and there were people staring to stare at them. He's frozen as Rayne makes himself perfectly clear, and all he can do is murmur a weak, "Okay, man, I hear you," as he's let go.

He can feel every whisper like it's inside of his head. They're not judging him, of course, but Rayne. How he can be so unkind to someone who goes out of his way to be so friendly. But Cater knows better--knows how worthless his friendship really is. Rayne had the right idea about him. He was better off cast aside.

Whirling around, Cater's all smiles again as he approaches another group of students and begins to make conversation. See? Everything was fine! He goes into full host mode, flitting from table to table, encouraging laughter and educational games to help with studying everywhere he went.

But none of it mattered, because he found himself stealing glances at Rayne every time he caught the guy in his peripheral.

There were a couple ways he could fix this problem, but only one he could act on in the current setting. He sidles up to a classmate that's flirted with him in the past, talking him up until he finds a good opening, leans in to whisper something. The boy in question perks up with a flushed face and nods, and when Cater slips away from the crowd toward a door out of the common area, he's hot on his heels. Not as subtle as Cater would like, but it would have to do.

The other teen is already grabbing at him the second they're outside, but Cater giggles and makes him wait long enough to duck into a more secluded hallway. Only then does he fully consent, letting the kid put his hands all over him. Cater barely had to do anything but hold on, the way things were going.

Each whisper presses into his chest, settling in. Rayne knew in an instant he'd caused a scene. He'd shown the students here what they feared - that Rayne wasn't to be messed with, wasn't someone to get close to, even by someone who was so friendly, so kind to everyone around him. If Rayne could treat someone like Cater so harshly, what was stopping him from treating others worse?

Casting Cater aside hurt his chest in a way he couldn't understand. Was it all the stares, all the eyes on him, that made him feel so small, as if he stuck out among every other person here?

Without a second thought, Rayne forces himself to move to find a spot to set himself up at. His jaw is so tight it hurts, his teeth grinding down against each other. The only student who really actively approaches him at one point is Max, checking in and making sure that everything was okay. Obviously not, but Rayne doesn't say anything, just waves him off until the next time that Max approaches, this time with a few students who had questions that he knew Rayne would be able to answer.

His roommate was far kinder than him, far more able to socialize and help people get what they needed. Even as the questions are answered by Rayne, advice offered, his eyes weren't focused on any of the students around him, or the notes in front of him. No, his eyes had picked up a situation that he didn't like. Something that stung almost more than anything else he was inflicting on the two of them.

In a second, Rayne is excusing himself, leaving Max to help their underclassmen, as he slips out of the party, trailing along down the halls. Silent footsteps, an anger that felt so unnatural, unable to be placed on any logical level-- what was he even thinking, right now? Was he?

A familiar spell is cast, the mage not needing to so much as murmur the words for it to pass. Several swords appear, throwing the boy off of Cater. There's no mercy with how the blades shove him, bat at him. Only then would the mage who cast the spell be visible - not that it was any surprise, given that was his signature. Rayne looked pissed, as his fist ends up colliding with that boy's face, sending him to the ground. He slams his foot down onto the teen, heel first.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Rayne's fully focused on the poor boy who'd mere moments before been victim to his spell. His swords were more forceful than stab-heavy, though it's clear the teen was bleeding from cuts and scrapes that were already forming, questioning in sputtering words what he'd done to evoke such a response from Rayne. "Don't touch him." Rayne kicks him again, even harder this time, directly to his ribs, causing the boy to cry out in pain.

"He's mine."

The two words are spoken as Rayne shoves the boy onto his back using his foot, pressing his heel down against the boy's chest to hold him down. He's clearly not going to stop anytime soon - another stomp against the boy, and not a single glance towards Cater.

Cater was nearly at a point where he could turn his brain off, even if he was imagining the lips on his skin belonged to someone else. And then he's cold--the body wrapped around him thrown off, and his eyes snap open to see Rayne hovering over them. Not that he's standing still for more than a second before he's taking out his aggression on the poor boy Cater had seduced.

But for what? Why? That Rayne cared at all was baffling, but those two little words made Cater feel like he was reeling. For too long, he stands flush against the wall, wide-eyed and frozen. He watches the gruesome scene unfold in front of him without comprehension, trying to get a gauge of what Rayne was thinking, but how could he when he didn't spare him as much as a single look?

Finally, a broken whimper of pain jolts Cater from his own mind and he rushes to action, grabbing Rayne by the arm with both hands. If needed, he'll summon doubles to help him restrain the rampaging teen, but for now he's just acting on instinct.

"Stop it, you're killing him!"

Where did all this anger come from? Why was it directed at this kid-- at this person that was all over Cater seconds before. His breathing is even, far more even than when he wasn't being violent against someone. It's in moments like these, filled with rage and anger, that he felt at his calmest, listening to the instincts of his body.

The hands around his arm don't quite stall him, another kick being sent against the boy, before those pleas reach Rayne's ears. Cater's voice, begging him to stop. His foot stills, resting against his chest, eyes focused down on the labored breathing under the pressure.

Had the lesson sunk in, then?

Wrenching his arm from Cater's hold, Rayne finally looks to him.

"I know when to stop." Rayne snaps, though he's sure given enough time he could recall how many slip ups he'd made before, where he'd gone way too far, where he'd nearly killed another student.

His shoe is lifted up from the boy, whose arm is grabbed harshly. Tugged to his feet, Rayne drags the boy's arm over his own shoulders, his arm slipping around his waist.

"... Help me get him to the infirmary." He might be the one who injured him so thoroughly, but it's... still his responsibility.

Edited 2024-05-22 21:10 (UTC)

Did he know when to stop? He should've stopped sooner. No, he should've never started. That was the real issue. Cater hisses in a breath, whether it's from the anger in Rayne's voice, the way he looks at him with such cold calmness, or from the absurd request...he doesn't know.

But he knows that the bloodied, barely conscious student didn't deserve this. That it wouldn't have happened if he'd been in this hallway with anyone else. So Cater takes the other arm, silent and feeling a pressure growing inside of him as he helps Rayne cart his victim to the infirmary.

It won't be until after they get him into a bed and are allowed to leave that Cater finally speaks again. It's maybe the quietest he's ever been, and his voice is still incredibly small as he moves in front of Rayne, not wanting to take the chance that he'll just storm off without looking at him.

"What was that, Rayne?"

His heart is still pounding in his chest, the adrenaline of the one-sided fight still seeping through his system, still spreading through him with every beat of his heart.

Thankfully, it seems that Rayne has some shred of humanity within him. He's silent, too, as they get the other student to the infirmary, as they make sure he'd be fine and cared for. He wasn't even sure what was going on in his own head. He felt dizzy, too many complicated feelings swirling in his head.

Unfortunately for Rayne, Cater steps in front of him before he can so much as slip away, to avoid a talk about this. At long last, Rayne's eyes meet Cater's, if only for a second. What was that? Did Rayne even know?

"He shouldn't have been touching you." Are the first words that slip out, illogical as any other explanation he could have given. "That's all there is to it."

"I told him to do it," he counters, feeling frustration leaking in with the rest of his emotions. Mostly, he's tired. Exhausted, from all this overthinking. Why was all of this so confusing? "It shouldn't matter to you who touches me. Or, what, do you have an obligation to get me off, too?"

Is he being unfair? This is the sharpest he's ever talked to Rayne--the sharpest he's probably been with anyone for some time. It went completely against his chill-guy persona, to be so strung out.

His own words are tossed back in his face. It wasn't surprising that Cater would react that way, would use such a sharp tone with him. "No." Rayne answered the question, feeling his face tighten. "It does matter. I don't want to see you with anyone else."

"If I have to make it an obligation of mine I will. If that's what it takes to never see another person's hands on you."

Taking a step towards Cater, one of his hands comes up, grabbing a section of his hair against the back of his head, tugging his head back a bit, to assert some sort of dominance, some sort of control over the situation. "Is that what I have to do, Cater?"

Where was this coming from? All of that effort to push him away, and now Rayne was putting a claim on him. His heart thumps, finding a sick sort of excitement in the attention no matter how threatening it is. No matter how frustrated he is. He keeps his eyes on Rayne's even as his head is pulled back--he doesn't fight against it, allowing Rayne that position of power over him.

"If you're not letting anyone else touch me, then you need to step up," he agrees, swallowing, feeling weaker than before, but trying to keep his resolve from crumbling. Not yet.

"If I'm really yours, prove it."

Prove it? How was he supposed to do that, to prove that Cater was his? No, he knew what he needed to do. What he had to do, to prove this to Cater. They were the only people in this dark hallway, the only two around. He doesn't need to lift his head to confirm that. The silence that settles between their words is enough to confirm it. Why, if he was going to be this possessive over Cater, had he not just let them continue making out the other night?

Why, if he was going to prove this in that way, had he shoved him away?

Rayne stares at Cater for a second, seeming to be at a loss for words. He often was, with things that didn't require words but felt so odd to act on. He isn't gentle in the way he leans in, grabbing the collar of Cater's shirt as he presses their lips together. It's harsh, selfish, and he knows it. There couldn't possibly be anything romantic about this kiss, could there?

No, it wasn't romantic, but that was fine. The energy between them was wound tight, a coiled spring. Cater's completely in Rayne's hands, his fists, and he kisses him back so eagerly, like he was waiting for it. It doesn't matter that it isn't a sweet kiss, because he drinks it in like it was salvation just he same. He couldn't say that Rayne was his, the same way Rayne was saying that about Cater. How could he, when he felt so powerless? When he still felt as if trying to grab Rayne back might push him back again?

The kiss might be all teeth and tongue but Cater moans into it, shivering in pleasure. So what if he was at a disadvantage, if it still got him what he wanted?

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He shouldn't have his hands on anyone like this, shouldn't be pressing his lips against theirs, shouldn't be wanting to prove they're his in any capacity of the word. To have ownership over another person was as dangerous of a game as having a friend, wasn't it? In a lot of ways, it was an even more dangerous game. At least this way he could lie and pretend he had it under control, couldn't he? Without feelings, there was more control in it, more ability to push and pull in the directions he wanted.

Rayne's hand releases his shirt, moving to instead press under his shirt, grabbing at his skin, nails half digging in to pull Cater close, to press their bodies together. It doesn't feel the same as the other night. Doesn't feel as good, but it'd have to do, wouldn't it?

Shifting against him, Rayne releases his hair, both of his hands moving to grab Cater's wrists. With one shove, he pushes the other teen against the nearest wall, pressing his hands above his head. Shifting his wrists together, he presses them down with one hand, as his other moved right back down to slip under his shirt again. No, Cater, he doesn't want you to touch him, not without permission.

Cater doesn't have long to enjoy the feeling of Rayne's fingers against his skin before it's gone again. He loses his breath as he's pushed back, but as Rayne pins his hands above his head...Cater starts to relax. His body loses some of that tension from before, seeming to fully ascent to being put in such a helpless position. To being dominated by the other boy. With his hands out of the way, he didn't have to worry about messing this up. All he could do was give in to Rayne's whims.

And feeling those fingertips return to his skin, he sighs in relief. Even if it isn't a kind touch, if it leaves bruises, he's just happy to have it. Rayne was so close, and he was right there.

"Rayne," he breathes, admitting out loud just what he'd been thinking. "I'm yours."

Strange-- that Cater began to relax as he's put into an even further helpless position than before. With his hands out of the way, pressed up above him, Rayne had free reign over all of Cater. The kiss breaks, to allow Rayne to look at him, to fully take in the sight of him. Cater submits so easily to being helpless, doesn't he? Rayne wonders, briefly, if that's ever gotten him into trouble, or if he's the only one whose been able to get Cater to submit like this.

Those fingers shift up along his skin, grabbing at his hip, at his waist, his chest. Thumb brushing over one of his nipples, as if he's trying to see where all of Cater's sensitive spots were. There's no shame in the touches he offers, even if he'd shoved the other teen away so quickly before they'd taken this too far last time.

Such simple words-- Rayne's leaning in, pressing his mouth against Cater's neck, teeth making contact with skin, nipping lightly at him, before he murmurs: "Say it again."

Rayne touches him so resolutely, so without hesitation, that Cater finds himself doubting whether or not he was really a virgin. He had to be, right? This was just his personality, to be so straightforward, to take control like it was natural for him. A shudder of pleasure ripples through him at the brush of skin against his nipple, and as he's sighing in gratitude for it, he arches his neck to give Rayne more room.

That was going to leave a mark, but the idea excited him.

"I'm yours," he repeats without a hint of shyness, despite it being such an intimate thing to say. Any average teenager would blush and stammer, to come out with such a statement. "My body belongs to you."

It would be easy enough to call it nothing more than foreplay, if Rayne hadn't just hospitalized someone.

He's still angry. Still frustrated, still so confused about his own feelings, the way he was acting regarding Cater. None of this was anything he'd have thought he would do, thought he would be like. Was it something about Cater that made Rayne feel it so necessary to be so possessive? Was it that ease of talking to others, of managing to get someone so eager to touch him without so much as trying?

If Rayne didn't get possessive, get serious, then Cater would slip through his fingers, find someone else who could satisfy him.

That little shudder urges Rayne on, his index and middle finger pressing against either side of that sensitive area on his chest, pressing him between both fingers, tugging slightly at him. The gentle bite of before is repeated, harsher-- sorry, Cater, you're going to need to figure out how to hide that later.

Panting softly against his skin, Rayne can be felt nodding. "Don't forget it." Should they really be doing this out here, where anyone could walk by and see them? No, absolutely not, but where should they go? One of their dorm rooms is the obvious place. Max would be out for a while longer, sure... what about Cater's? Did he have a roommate? Rayne's mind wasn't nearly focused enough for him to remember.

Cater moans a bit louder at the harder bite, at the pinch of his nipple between Rayne's fingers. He bites his lip, knowing he shouldn't be too loud while they're out in the hallway, lest someone overhear and come seeking them out--but how could he help himself? He was getting more aroused by the minute and unlike last time, it didn't seem like Rayne was going to stop.

That was fine by him.

"My room," he suggests. He's not a mind reader, but it's becoming so clearly a necessity for them. There was no way he was going back to the party like this, and who knew how long it would be before the rest of the crowd dispersed. "We'll be alone."

Plus, he had what they needed, there, if things got even heavier than this.

At this rate, someone'd hear them, they'd be caught, and--
Cater's room. Rayne nods against him, showing that he heard, that he understood. He really didn't want to pull his hands away from him, to no longer be able to feel his soft skin under his lightly calloused hands.

With one last tease of his thumb along him, Rayne slowly pulls his hand back from under his shirt.

Releasing his wrists was the next necessity, for them to move. It wasn't as though either of them had transport magic up their sleeves that'd get them there in an instant. Rayne wanted to take him here and now, not wait. Still, he moves to release his wrists, only to pause.

Lifting his opposite hand, he grabs Cater by the chin, pressing his thumb against his bottom lip, tugging it as he moves his thumb down, only for his thumb to press slightly further into his mouth... to prod at the tip of that little sharper tooth of his with the pad of his thumb.

Then, his hand pulls back, his other releasing Cater's wrists. "Let's go."

Cater locks eyes with Rayne as his face is taken ahold of. He isn't sure, exactly, what Rayne is doing...but it felt good. It was sexy. He couldn't look away from the boy who held so much rage in his beautiful body. Finally, he's released, but there's a few seconds where he stays there, hands still over his head, like he's been captivated.

They'll get nowhere like that, though, so Cater starts moving in the direction of his dorm. His hands are itching to reach for Rayne, but he doesn't dare try and touch him--especially not while they're out in the open. The walk feels far longer than it should, but ultimately they reach the familiar doorway that they'd kissed against just days prior. Almost clumsy in his eagerness, Cater steps forward to open the door and let them both in.

It took way too long to reach his dorm. Rayne had to keep himself from being touchy as they walk, from reaching out and slipping his hand around Cater's waist. Luckily for him, no one seemed to be in the hallway, so even if he had reached out, it might not have been a problem. Hell, even them walking together now would be suspicious, after the way he'd acted earlier with Cater.

Mere seconds after the door is open, Rayne slips inside with him, making sure the door is shut before he turns his gaze back onto Cater. His hand reaches out and, where one might expect him to grab his tie roughly, he's gentle, tugging the material loose and pulling his tie off. They've barely gotten through the door and he's decided he wanted Cater less dressed than he is.

"Get your robe off." Rayne tells him, keeping ahold of the tie he'd taken off of Cater, as he slips his own robe off to set aside. The extra fabric would only get in the way.

It's a good thing Cater was well-suited to taking orders. There's an anticipating smile on his face as Rayne removes his tie, even if he had expected a bit more roughness as soon as the door closed behind them. He starts to shrug off his robe without question, stopping with it over one arm to fondle the top button of his shirt questioningly. "Should I keep going?"

Or did Rayne want to tear it off of him, himself?

What a dangerous situation they've gotten themselves into, huh? Rayne can't take his eyes off of Cater as he starts to shrug off his robe. Now that they're alone, behind closed doors, he could fully have his way with Cater, couldn't he? So why was he just standing there, watching him?

"No." Rayne shifts, moving Cater's hand out of the way, to undo the first buttons of his shirt. Resting Cater's tie over his own shoulder, Rayne leans in to press his lips against the other teen's collarbone, his hands falling down to touch him through his clothes. Staring at his waist, his hands travel down along the curve of him, moving back around to trail down the curve of his ass. As his hands reach that point, Rayne's teeth sink in against his skin, along his exposed collarbone. Seems he's set on proving Cater is his, both to Cater and anyone who looked at him.

Now that they're in private, he couldn't keep himself from being as touchy as he wanted to be.

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