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Bad had the start of a really bad headache. Head in hands, rubbing his temples, processing the crazy amounts of information this Aypierre fellow told him.
Then again, that same person was currently cooking something exquisite. The air filled with the beautiful buttery scent of crust mixed with the slight details of eggs, cream, and other goodies. A quiche. It's been a while since he had quiche. It made the load easier to handle.
“Okay-so,” He slammed his hands on the kitchen table, drawing imaginary lines, “Apparently, what you're trying to tell me is that one of my roomies… is my father.”
“Yes,” He heard Pierre say, sitting next to him tinkering with some type of machinery. He explained what it was, but at that point his brain was more into the quiche smell than his words.
He pointed at another grain in the wood, “And Richas is my mother.”
“Yes.”
He gestured to Pierre, “And you are my business partner.”
“Yes, exactly.”
He paused, sorting through the information before slumping back into the chair, staring at the ceiling, “That’s-that’s crazy.”
“Eh, it’s not crazy,” Pierre said, putting down the contraption to send a small, soft smile, “It’s your family.”
“But like… I’m still confused.” He covered his eyes with his hands. Goes through everything again, and again. All the pieces were there yet there was a big gaping hole that connected it all together, “Because Dapper,” He balked out a laugh, “Dapper is not my father, I can tell you that.”
“Well-”
He cut Pierre off, “And I definitely don’t have a mother-unless?”
He stopped that train of thought. If there was one thing he absolutely shouldn’t think about is how his Father fornicates… or if does. Language.
Pierre stuttered through finding the words, “Adoption is a thing.”
“Oh! Adoption!” Bad said quietly, the pieces clicking together while clarity settled in its place. He dropped his hands, lifting his head to look at Pierre, “That makes sense! I’ve never been adopted before!”
The oven dinged, and Bad’s stomach growled. Momentarily distracted as Pierre got up to locate the oven mitts. He returned to his original points, “So like, we’re business partners. What do we… do?”
“Yeah, we help each other out. Go on adventures. Buy and sell things...” Pierre said. He slipped on the mitts and opened the oven. Letting more of that deliciousness seep into the air.
“That sounds nice.” Bad muttered, peeking at the quiche. Perfectly cooked. Perfectly seasoned. Perfectly ready to enter Bad’s mouth.
Pierre mumbled something in French as he reached into the oven. Unfortunate for him, both the translator and Bad’s attention picked it up, drifting from the oven to the bubbles above his head, “Although we were a little more than that.”
Bad squinted his eyes in confusion, “What do you mean?”
Pierre froze, regret filling his expression before putting on a masked smile, “I-I wouldn’t concern yourself with that Badboy.”
He put the quiche on the table. Setting out two plates, picking up a knife. Lowering and carefully breaking the edge of the crust. Bad watched as the quiche gives. Splitting through the filling and his heart if he doesn’t get taste soon.
“Yeah, but now you said it,” Bad commented, slowly reaching out. His hand immediately smacked away before Pierre pulled out a perfect, beautiful, mouth-watering, intact slice of heaven. In this moment, Bad didn’t care about Pierre’s response. The delicate aroma lifted away his thoughts. He watched as it was centered on a plate, before daring to glance up. Seeing Pierre’s eyebrows furrow in contemplation before smoothing out into a playful smirk. Steam brushed his face as he picked up another cut slice. The light illuminated his hair like a halo. This man… this man was a Saint. A guardian angel of food. He could see why past-BadBoyHalo partnered up with him. If he cooked like this everyday then Holy Fudge...
He tried to pick up the plate close to him, but Pierre got there first. A whine pushed past his lips when he held it up out of arm’s reach, training his gaze on Bad. His eyes darkened with… something, “You are my little kitty.”
Bad blinked, disparagingly snapped out of his food-lust, “I was… wait, what? I’m not a cat.”
Pierre laughed, further adding to Bad’s confusion. He sat down and put the plate in front of him, dragging the other to himself. Bad immediately shoveled its contents into his mouth as Pierre explained, “Oh, Bébou… think more-more ‘language’.”
“... Lang-OH! OH! Language!” He shouted, covering his mouth so he doesn’t waste the small bits flying out. He didn’t get the chance to savor, but it was the most absolutely delicious thing he’s had since thirty minutes ago. His mind was preoccupied with other obscene things. As in, what the fudge. Did he really do that type of stuff with people other than Skeppy and Foolish? “Like-how? Why? When?!”
“To help get your mind off things.” Pierre mentioned, eating a bite of his own quiche, “As for how, I think it might be better if I show you if you want.”
Bad nervously glanced down at the leftover crumbs before glancing back, taking the knife and cutting himself another piece to ease his nerves, “Like… right now?”
“Oh, no-no-no-no.” Pierre shook his head and waved his hand in the air, “Maybe tomorrow if you want.”
Tomorrow… Bad didn’t think anything special was happening tomorrow. It would satiate his curiosity, and the faster he can get it over with the better. The thoughts were already starting to ruminate, “... M’kay.”
Pierre hummed as he swallowed, “Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow, you drop the kids at Baghera’s for dinner. I’ll set something up.”
“Okay.” Bad whispered as he sunk into his seat.
“We’ll take it slow. Eh, no toys. I’ll touch you a little bit, yeah?”
“... Okay.”
“And the only thing you need to do is be a cute KittyBoyHalo.” Pierre finished, stacking Bad’s plate with his and standing up, “Sound good?”
So far, nothing seemed too off besides the whole ‘KittyBoyHalo’. It was all… tamer than what he assumed Pierre would start listing off. Maybe Bad will get through it and keep his dignity. Bad nodded, “Okay?”
And that’s what led Bad to this moment, wringing his hands, jumping in place, and hyping himself up. He was a little later than anticipated with meeting Baghera. She seemed… sad that he didn’t remember her, but she did tell him that she was glad he was ‘better’ was eager to help him recover his memories.
Baghera seemed nice.
But she wasn’t the person Bad was heavily thinking about right now. He was mostly focused on Pierre and whatever shenanigans Bad was in for. At least with Skeppy, he knew what to expect. Even if it was one of his impulsive ideas that he just had to try. This? This was walking into unknown territory that Bad wasn’t sure how to deal with.
“Okay-okay-okay,” Bad said to himself, stepping over to the elevator and taking a huge breath in, “C’mon BadBoyHalo you can do this.”
He dropped down and immediately let out a harsh breath. Overwhelmed with the onslaught of permeating smells.
Of meats…
Cheeses…
Bread. The pinnacle of it all. The succulent birth child of yeast and wheat that just made his knees weak. His mouth watered… and so did another body part. He stumbled over to the kitchen. Lightheaded as the state of his table unveiled itself. Kissed with the view of every inch covered in dishes. Thinly sliced Prosciutto… Salami…Tarts… Brie…
Fresh Baguettes laid steaming on top of the stove. Pierre noticed him, wearing an apron covered in flour, turning and exclaiming, “Ah! Hello, Bébou!”
Bad felt like he reentered heaven. This had to be what it felt like. Welcomed back into serenity with the arms of his Father outstretched and welcoming. A hidden desire he always craved, but will never obtain.
“Pierre…” He croaked out, mouth agape as he walked into the kitchen, “How-how-how-”
“You like what you see?” Pierre asked lowly, walking over to throw his arm around Bad’s waist, guiding him over to the table. Bad nodded hypnotically as he was boxed against it. The edge pressing uncomfortably as Pierre asked, “Ready?”
He looked over Pierre’s shoulder to the Baguettes. Entranced by their beauty. He was so hungry. So blessed to be in their presence. A hand gripped his chin as he repeated the question. Snapping Bad out long enough to give a vigorous nod. At this, Pierre pressed forward, releasing his chin. Confusing Bad as he glanced at anything that wasn’t his eyes. Then he backed off, pulling out a small morsel of elegance in the form of a toasted baguette slice smothered in brie and stacks of meat. He held it in front of his face. Fooling Bad into opening his mouth until popping the whole thing into his own. A sharp pain of disappointment erupted in Bad’s heart.
“How was Baghera?” He asked. Stepping away to lean against the opposite counter.
“She was fine, y’know…” Watching as Pierre turned. Picking up one of the Baguettes and tore off a piece. The air filled with the sound of the crispy crust and Bad’s brains breaking, “I-uhh. It was… oh, and the kids… uhhh…”
Pierre also grabbed something Bad didn’t care about before walking forward, placing the delicacy and thing next to him. He teased his way into his hood, untying his scarf. A wave of anxiety shot down Bad's spine, “Uh- the hood stays on.”
Pierre retracted, scarf in hand, and smiled. Almost like he already knew, “Of course, Badboy.”
He placed it on the table. Swapping it out for a blood-red collar, holding it in front of him. Wordlessly asking for Bad's opinion. So this is where the ‘KittyBoyHalo’ came in. Okay. This is fine. Bad lifted his head, exposing his neck and letting Pierre buckle it on.
Bad would be lying if he said it wasn't comfortable. The inside was padded with a soft fabric that wrapped around and covered the edges. Snug, but didn't restrict movement.
“Now, Bèbou.” Pierre started. Taking a more serious tone, grabbing his hand and bringing it to a button on the collar. Tapping it with his finger, “If you feel uncomfortable, or-or it gets too much. Press here.”
Bad nodded as he poked at it, “Okay.”
“Can… Can you show me?” Pierre whispered. Sending him a happy look as Bad clicked and popped it off. Picking up the bread and offering it up, “Good boy.”
A moan punched out as Bad reached for it. Only for Pierre to draw back slightly, positioning closer to his mouth. Bad got the gist, cracking the crust under sharp canines and sinking into the soft crumb. Maneuvering with his tongue to push the entire piece in. His eyes fluttered closed, Letting out a sharp, satisfied noise.
“Is it good?” Pierre asked, reclicking the collar on.
“Mmhmm,” Bad whined before swallowing. The taste lingered, tingling his nerve endings over its warm, bready goodness.
“Good. I have so much more planned for you.” Pierre felt down his sides, landing on his hips. Sitting him on the edge before grabbing the whole baguette. He sliced off a piece. Layered with a spread of cheese and salami before he brought it to his lips, “Now, sit there and be a pretty kitty.”
“Ho-oh my gosh.” Bad breathed out. Never has he felt more like royalty in his entire lifespan, even when he was sitting in the laps of French monarchs. Bad carefully gripped his apron, pulling him closer. Dancing his tongue across Pierre’s fingers before lifting it into his mouth. Almost immediately, he made another piece. Then another. And another. Sucked into the rhythm. Opening and accepting whatever exquisite morsel Pierre delivered unto him.
Until he brought out a tart. A trollish glint settled on his expression as he pulled away at the very last second.
“I wanna hear you beg, Bébou.” Pierre said, wiping off a bead of drool on Bad’s hazy face.
Bad surprised nobody with how ready he was to sink to a new level. He focused on making himself look as pathetic as possible, “Plea-.”
“Nah-ah.” Pierre responded sharply, holding the tart further away.
“Wha-uh-what?” Bad stuttered, hunger and need boiling in his veins, “Please?”
“Mm, nah.” His smirk grew wider, not hiding the fact he was teasing.
He paused, befuddled over what this man wanted from him, “... Please, can I have-?”
“Nah.”
Bad felt frustration burn hotter. His abdomen twitched, laughing at the absurdity before desperately clawing into his shirt, “Pierre please!”
“That’s not how kitties beg.” Pierre reprimanded. Finally giving context as to the reaction he wanted.
He considered his options before swiftly concluding that the tart was worth his dignity. Yelling out, “Meow?!”
“Mmm, not yet.”
Bad broke. He cried out, shoving his face into Pierre’s chest. Hand waving in the air trying to catch the tart.
“Better,” Pierre encouraged, shocking Bad. He tilted his head to look up at him, “But you need to ask nicely.”
He tried a new method: he grumbled, the sound catching and bubbling in his throat.
“Almost.” Pierre said, bringing the tart closer. Making Bad’s mouth water now that he figured out the game. He tried again, dead set on making the neediest noise known to mankind. Stifling it as he accidentally slipped into his demonic register.
“Good. Good. Sweeter.” Pierre encouraged.
Bad gasped, not realizing that that was what he wanted. Surprised he even knew about it. He started with demonic chirping this time, experimenting with different positions to soften the tone. It slipped up a register, chest vibrating in response.
“There you go,” He brought it to Bad’s mouth. Whimpering pathetically as he sank his teeth into the delight. The taste the literal definition of ‘worth it’. He experimented with the new noise in between bites. The way it buzzed in his face scratched an itch he didn’t know existed. Once Pierre stuffed the last bit into his mouth, brushing his fingers on his tongue. He reached over and put another in Bad’s hand. Permission to indulge himself as Pierre unbuckled Bad’s pants, slipping underneath his hoodie to pet his belly as he absentmindedly ate. He slid into his pants, gliding a finger in between the lips of his pussy.
“Oh, Bébou… You are too easy,” Pierre breathed out, pulling his hand out to show the trail of slick, “Look! You’re so wet!”
Bad couldn’t think, staring silently before Pierre dragged him off the table, taking his pants off before sitting him back down. He grabbed his hips and tilted him back, making him lose his balance and bang on the plates. Dragged by the base of his tail closer to the edge, and giving Pierre access to his holes, “Accept what I give you, yeah? No begging. Enjoy the feelings.”
He brought a chair over, and sat down. Hiding his face from Bad’s view. Pierre nestled two fingers between the labia, spreading it out. Exposed to the cold air. Using his other hand, he lightly pinched the inner lip, massaging it under calloused fingers as Bad let out a breathy moan. Pierre pushed his thumb a fraction deeper, making his heart beat faster in anticipation.
Pierre circled and pressed into the walls, and not in a way that gave pleasure. It only set Bad’s nerves on fire. Bustling with need and emptiness. His whines grew intenser before impulsively bucking his hips in attempt to slip it further inside. Pierre drew back, wiping the slick on Bad’s thighs. Softly saying, “What did I say, Bébou?”
Bad tried to talk back, but his brain only supplied worthless noises and syllables. He sat up, giving Pierre a dirty look. He responded in a teasing smile. Uttering, “Just enjoy it. Enjoy what I give you. Eh-only. Only what I give you.”
“Be still,” He shoved Bad back on the table. Returning to roughly massage his inner thighs, slowly creeping up to the obvious destination. A long, needy noise erupted from Bad’s lungs when Pierre got to the outside, dragging down the lips. He removed his hands for a few seconds, before scissoring it open. Repeating the exact same actions, before an intense shudder caused Pierre to lean back. Wordlessly this time as Bad’s breath grew stronger. Waiting a minute before moving back to repeat the same thing.
Bad stared at the light fixture, mouth agape before reaching over and eating a handful of salami slices. His words from last night repeating. Pierre knew him. He knew Bad’s body better than expected. However, he didn’t consider the possibility that it meant he knew exactly how to touch him to turn the feelings into pure agony. The thumb was replaced with a finger. Slowly, slowly pushing in deeper and deeper. Bad suppressed a gasp. Forcing his body to freeze in worry that he’ll retract. Pierre kept it there, not moving himself. A small, promising pressure gradually curling into his g-spot. He twitched. Restarting the frustrating process. One question rattled around in his head.
Why did he agree to this? Maybe if he popped the collar off he could tip the scales and convince him to touch him properly-
“Eh-remember. If you take it off, we stop completely. I won’t touch you anymore.” Pierre mentioned nonchalantly.
He can read his thoughts. Bad was struck with intimidation of the person between his legs. This man… this man was not a guardian angel of food. This man was a devil. He was-it felt.
It felt familiar. Not familiar in the way of demonic freedom, but in heavenly restriction. Of impossible expectations. Of trying-needing to be good in fear of the repercussions. The love intoxicating despite it’s hurt. Old feelings and desires overtook his mind as he stared at the light. The blood rushing in his ears felt like a chorus of siblings. The quivering of his tail felt like the quivering of spread wings. The hands coaxing felt like the hands of-
He spread his legs further. Deadset on proving his worth. To prove that he is redeemable.
“Good…” Pierre praised, stuffing two fingers in and holding them still. Bad felt himself slipping. The feelings that once brought him nothing but desperation were now-Tainted. Sinful. What the fudge was he doing? If he wanted his Father’s approval, having a man knuckles deep in his pussy was the last thing that would achieve that. He shook himself out of it.
“No! Bébou! Bébou, you were so close!” Pierre erupted. Further dragging Bad out of it at the sudden switch of emotions.
“... I was?” Bad said before Pierre shushed him. The ‘close to what?’ stayed silent.
“Let’s try that again, yeah? Be good. Be a good little kitty,” Pierre said, switching tactics and relentlessly stroking his g-spot. Now, overwhelming in the opposite way, but glad to receive some form of actual stimulation. His voice tightening and squeaking in his nose.
Yet Pierre pulled out when Bad wiggled his hips, exclaiming, “Ah-ah! Good little kitties don’t squirm.”
Bad whimpered. Unable to stop writhing at the loss of contact.
He felt his tentacle stir. The tip curiously peaked out of his slit. Pierred snickered, poking and encouraging it to twirl around two fingers. Then he roughly shoved it back in. Bad shrieked and scrambled. Pleasure and pain mixed as Pierre declared, “I want your pussy, Badboy. Keep this in there.”
The sheer pressure from the squirming tentacle and fingers overwhelmed him too much to process his words. Bad tried to bat the hand away, but only succeeded in getting his fingers caught and wrenched. He pinched the tip hard, causing it to burrow into the safety of his slit. Slowly dragging his fingers out afterwards.
Aftershocks flew through Bad’s body as Pierre rubbed his hips. Waiting for Bad to relax before returning to spread Bad’s pussy and shove back in. Pulling out when Bad clenched, “You need to stop moving, Badboy.”
“Oh, gosh please! I-I can’t help it.” Bad cried out, Pierre was muttering something in a sweet tone, but he wasn’t listening. Trapped in an impossible task again. This one harder. Emotional. More stakes. He wanted to be good, it’s required of him, but it also feels good. Feeling good made it hard to be good. This would be easier to deal with if he wasn’t trapped in such a sinful body. If he didn’t automatically twitch when Pierre touched him. If he was allowed to serve without his own desires getting in the way, “I can’t-”
It was too much. He was trying to stay still but it was too much. He wanted to go back. He missed his siblings. He needed someone. He needed, “Daddy…”
Pierre paused, “Oh… eh… that-that's new. Wha-what do you want from your daddy?”
“I wanna…” He choked on a sob. His vision watery and hearing dulled, “I wanna be forgiven.”
“Bébou, you can be forgiven, but you need to be good still.” Pierre consoled, cooing and petting his thighs when a tear ran down Bad’s face. He gathered him up and off the table. The slow drop to the floor felt like a baptism.
“You’re my good kitty, Bébou.” Pierre professed, wiping off the tears and massaging up to his horns. Feeling the rugged texture before slowly gliding over Bad’s eyes to close him. Smoothing down his face and petting behind his ears. It felt lovely. Eased out of the intense moment. Curing him of his tainted ways. The feelings between his legs felt like a distant memory. He let himself relax into it. Hands traveled down to knead his stomach. Washing away his sins and purifying his soul. Purrs resonated in his chest, losing himself in the sensations and holy relief. Barely recognizing his consciousness was slipping away too.
He woke up from a dreamless nap. Right in that in-between state of feeling refreshed and wanting to go back to sleep. He grumbled and rolled over.
“Good morning, Badboy!” Pierre interrupted. Continuing his noisy protest as he lifted his head. Seeing Pierre on a chair with a glass of wine. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Realizing he slept on his kitchen floor, with only a mystery pillow and blanket that must’ve been put there by none other than Pierre. He didn’t have his pants on, and there was a lot of pent up energy and leftover wetness in his lower areas. He wondered if Pierre was waiting on him to wake up in order to take care of it. He crawled over, catching the blanket on a raised tail, plopping his face on Pierre’s lap and playing up the ‘KittyBoyHalo’ persona. In response, Pierre took off the collar and handed him a glass of wine.
“I didn't finish.” Bad hissed, taking the wine. Ears pinning against his skull.
Pierre took a sip, “Eh, maybe tomorrow. I’m tired.”
Bad raised his eyebrows as amusement slowly built on Pierre’s face. He was lying. He was doing this on purpose.
“Oh, you’re cruel. You’re so cruel!” Bad said, his breath catching in his abdomen in realization that he was not coming today, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna flipping kill you,”
Pierre shrugged, “We’ll see about that.”