The next few weeks were a very strange and heady mix of bliss and acute discomfort. Akija's new-found interest in-- or perhaps it would be more accurate to say new-found permission to, since Cacopheny was the one with the most interest-- kissing in addition to the cuddling accounted for both. Whenever they had a minute when one of them wasn't actually doing something, it was hard to resist gathering her up and into an out of the way corner, and most of the time he gave up on the resisting. He had the distinct impression, now and then, that she found the tendency more amusing than particularly exhilarating, herself, but she wasn't exactly protesting, either, so he didn't see any reason yet to stop.

Well, all right, he supposed Sentio's embarrassment might have been a reason, or Chario's smug amusement, or maybe Kenjista's disgust, but... not enough of one. He wasn't in the habit of caring about Kenjista anymore, Chario didn't do any worse than tease Akija about it, and Sentio... well, Sentio could deal with it. It was about time he grew up a little and got used to such things, anyway.

So he stole brief kisses during the day, sweeter ones while the dragons were away, lingering ones after dinner and before everyone bedded down for the night, even the occasional heated ones when they were alone, where he got a little carried away and wound up having to slip away for a while lest he get a lot carried away.

Better, though, were the rarer but still significant times when she kissed him, rather than simply allowing him to nuzzle into her mouth and playing along amiably. Because she did, now and then, surprise him with a quick peck or languid meeting of mouths. She was playful about it, which was different but fine by him-- it was very her-- and, of course, relatively chaste, which he was a little less certain about. What he really wanted was for her to take him upstairs to her bed, to see what that was like-- finally, finally, oh claws and teeth, finally-- but that wasn't something her occasional initiatives would pertain to. He knew it, even before spending a month and a half trying not to push her and wishing she would push him, just a little.

Sometimes he wondered if she really did mean her changed mind, because she wasn't really a wanting kind of person, he was learning. Not that kind of wanting. What if she had changed her mind just because she wanted to make him happy? It didn't make any sense, really, because no one would do that, he wasn't worth it, no one would care-- except that was wrong, now. No one except her, he had to remind himself. And sometimes Sentio. Sentio would do things he didn't want to, too, though certainly not that.

So, all right, he had to concede that it was possible. And, though a remarkably flattering situation, having someone making such an effort just to make him happy, he knew it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted something mutual, something they both wanted, not just take what was offered because it was what he wanted. After being in her place for a very long time, he couldn't-- and wouldn't, even if he could-- make anyone do what they didn't want to just to make him happy. That wasn't right.

Convincing a lot of the shadows of that, however, was a lot harder. Especially because he wanted so very badly. He did, not just them. And since he was the one using the body, for the most part, he was the one who had to deal with the problem of wanting when he had to be careful not to ruin what little he had by wanting wrong: wanting too much, at the wrong time, in the wrong way, or just plain wrong.

He had to find out. Soon. Or he felt like he would fall apart, tremble to pieces from holding himself back and in for so long. Or Flash or Tiger would get out for long enough to do it for him, quite likely without asking anyone, much less Akija. He'd been careful-- he was so used to being the one in command of his body, and so much more disciplined at it than when he'd first escaped Rao, that he'd managed to keep them mostly in line and inside-- but he couldn't be careful forever. He remembered perfectly well what it was like to be at odds with the shadows, and he didn't want that to happen again, but that's what he was afraid would happen if he kept denying them-- and himself. Kissing was wonderful-- amazing, beautiful, perfect-- but it also made things so much worse.

So he had to find out. For himself, for them, for her. She'd said she'd "figure out" how to be herself, she said she'd missed him, she'd said kevazka. None of that had entirely answered his question about what all she had changed her mind about. Just that it had changed. He needed that answer.

But that required bringing it up, somehow talking about it or asking about it. Or asking for it. How well had that turned out, before? Horribly. He'd managed no words at all, just actions, and he knew that those actions were all wrong.

So try using actions without actually acting on them, Genner suggested impatiently one afternoon, as Cacopheny absently washed dishes and the rest of the household congregated in the living room, waiting for him but certainly not waiting on him. Suggest rather than do.

That doesn't make any sense, Araski snorted back at him.

Except it did. Cacopheny paused, his hands deep in soapy water, as an idea struck him. Akija knew enough about him to guess certain things if.... At the very least, it would be a way to broach the subject.

Good boy, Genner said, sounding genuinely proud of him. He flushed at the unexpected praise, and went back to finishing the dishes.

That night, he left the rest of them early, saying his good-nights and giving Akija a light kiss for the same. Sentio rolled his eyes at them both but said nothing, at least. Cacopheny made sure to close down the bond, so he wouldn't bother the dragon or give himself away.

And then, when Akija came up to bed not much later, he was waiting for her, sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed, hugging his knees, and looking up at her hesitantly. She almost didn't see him, her eyes skimming past him in the darkness, but then her gaze jumped back to him in surprise. As well she would be-- surprised-- because he rarely came into the bedrooms this far, much less sat beside a bed. 

"What're you up here for?" she asked, blinking and coming in without bothering with the lights. She dropped to sit on the end of her bed, and he scooted around so he could face her, timidly putting his hands on her knees and looking up at her.

Something about this room makes Akija denser than a rock, Flash muttered. Maybe we shoulda done this downstairs.

It's not the room, stupid.

Well, what else would it be??

"I... vell, I... rrrr." He smiled a little, nervously, but all she did was tuck one hand over his on her knee and run the fingers of the other through his hair. "I had hoped you vood kess, put I kess not.... You tchantch'd your mind about kissing. And-- and ssat is kood, yes?"

"I changed my mind on you, Coffee," she told him with a smirk. "And it's good, yes."

He had to smile at that, no matter what, and leaned his head a little into her fingers. "I vas hoping," he continued... er, hopefully. "Maybe. Ssat means tchantch'd your mind apout. Apout osser ssingks, too." Fortified by smile and touch, he shifted the hand she hadn't claimed onto her bed and, a little tentatively, patted it in an attempt to show what he meant. "If-- if you might vant... maybe more?"

She followed the gesture with a curious frown, but realization dawned quickly, skewing her ears and widening her eyes a little as she looked back at him, but she didn't recoil-- there was none of the horrible shock and denial that he'd been half-afraid to see again. Just... confusion and surprise. "It is something you want?" she asked quietly, her head canted aside and her voice sounding almost... worried. "I would've thought you'd... never want to go near a bed again."

He stared briefly with surprise.

Is she really that oblivious? Tiger demanded incredulously. Have we been more subtle than I thought we had?

It's the room, Flash reiterated stubbornly.

He really ought to answer. "Rrr. Vell. I mean." He looked away in an attempt to get his thoughts organized. "Jzust because Zhe--" No, that wasn't right. "I mean, I'm still--" No, wrong, too. "Zhe didn't break me ssat mutch!" he blurted unhappily.

She actually twitched a little under his hand, startled by his outburst, and he winced. He hadn't really meant to say it like that. He found both her hands on his face a breath later, though, turning it back towards her. "Oh, Coffee, no," she said, ears back. He blinked at her, looking up into the contrite, almost ashamed expression on her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that.... I wouldn't have you any other way, you wouldn't be you, wouldn't be kevazka. I just... had to be sure. That I wasn't understanding wrong."

A little surprised by her babbling apologies, he reached up to cover one of her hands with his own-- hers was so much smaller, on his face; his fingers actually touched his own skin above hers-- and put the other to her lips. "Sssss arright," he assured her. "Ton't be sorry. Not mad. Can't essprain right. I ssink-- I ssink-- maybe can be kood. Viss no hate, maybe can be kood. But if you still ton't vant to, I... I'll be arright."

She dropped her now-free hand into her lap, ears still skewed and eyes both warmly on him and somehow inward-focused as she thought. He brushed his fingertips over her lips once more, enjoying the feel of it, before dropping his hand to join hers again. He had to wait, just a little while longer. She needed to think. He'd let her think. She didn't think too long. There was a sizable pause, all right, but it wasn't long enough that he got more than a little worried, looking up at her and trying not to shift anxiously or push her, and why had gone from an expression of deep thought to a lop-sided smile?

That looks kind of promising, actually.

It doesn't look like anything, to me.

Hush, would you? She's gonna answer!

"No," she said, with some sort of personal amusement that he didn't quite understand in her voice and expression. "I think you're right."

It took him a second to get past the "no", but when he did he twitched just enough that his fingers jerked on hers, then closed. "Really?" he asked.

She chuckled quietly, ran her thumb over his cheek, then leaned forward to kiss between his brows. It tingled warmly, and then she pressed her forehead to his. "Really," she said, and he shut his eyes with a sigh. "You and me... yeah, that's a good thing."

Claws yes! Flash agreed gleefully. Cacopheny tried to ignore him, tried to ignore all of them, just for right now. Privacy, he thought as he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her palm gently, would be nice.

"Ssank you," he said quietly.

What she said in return had no words attached, but it meant everything he could have hoped: she brushed her hand back from his cheek and behind him, drawing his face up to him and kissing him warmly.

Now <u>that's</u> what I'm talkin' about!

Flash, go bother Araski or something--

Hey!

--because this time is <u>mine</u>. All right?

Whaaaaaaaat? No fair!

... next time you can watch. But just... please?

No, c'mon--

Flash, maybe if you're really good and leave them alone, they'll even let you out. Maybe. Eventually. If you're really good.

... you think so?

Sure. Come on, you can bother me for a while.

... Let's all of us go.

Relieved that the majority of the shadows were going to play along, for now, Cacopheny left them alone and put his attention back where he wanted it, on Akija and leaning up into her mouth.

All of you, move it. Leave the mutt alone.

Awww....

I mean it. Fuck off.

... okay.

... just this once.

All right, all right....

Tiger?

Since Tiger was doing nothing but purring quietly to himself-- and because she didn't really want to fight with him over it, just then-- Almadir didn't bother him. Cacopheny didn't even have to ignore him. By then, he'd forgotten, because he had better things to think about.