It was a dull night, a night that seemed it would be as uneventful as any other. I stood on my front lawn, gazing up at the night sky and enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet. I'd been taking the garbage out to the curb, but I'd found myself taken by a sudden appreciation for the serenity of the moonlit suburbs.
I was roused from my reverie by an abrupt noise from the darkness behind me, a strange noise, somewhere between an animal's cry and a low moan. Startled, I spun to see what had made it.
I was met with a curious sight—it was a boy, perched gracefully atop the low wall that separated my yard from the next. Despite his precarious position, he seemed relaxed—he lay on his side, reclining on the narrow brickwork with the air of someone relaxing on a couch. He was tall, or at least looked it, though it was difficult to tell with the way he slouched and coiled his body in on itself. Dark brunette bangs framed an androgynous face that might have been handsome, were it not for the innocent, wide-eyed look of curiosity he regarded me with, or the soft-furred pair of cat ears that peeked from beneath his hair, twitching this way and that of their own accord. I caught a glimpse of movement behind him, one I quickly recognized as a tail; long and covered in sleek, shiny black fur, flicking lazily through the air.
The most bizarre thing about him wasn't the ears or tail, though, but the outfit he wore. He was dressed in a ridiculous mockery of a maid's outfit, a haphazard mishmash of skin, skirts, and sandals. From the waist down he wore a long black skirt, with a white apron over the top and a lacy white petticoat visible beneath. On his upper body, however, he wore only a slim black bodice that covered his nipples, biceps, and little else, bordered with a white lace frill to match his skirts. Stranger still, in place of shoes he wore japanese sandals: thick blocks of wood strapped to his soles, over a pair of white lace stockings. I blinked in confusion, convinced that he must have been a hallucination—he seemed so jarringly out of place amongst his surroundings I was certain he couldn't be real.
When I opened my eyes, though, he was still there, head cocked, lazing on my fence as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Hello?" I ventured, breaking the silence.
"Hey." he replied simply, his attitude almost indifferent.
Staring at this curiously calm, content catboy, my mind raced with questions. Why was he dressed as like some twisted combination of maid and stripper? Why just hang around like that in the middle of the night? Why my yard, of all places? Instead, I asked the most pertinent one: "Who are you?"
"Cyan." he offered with a shrug, as if that was all that needed explaining. "Who are you?"
"I'm ${name}. This is my yard." I explained, unable to contain my curiosity anymore. "What's with that outfit?"
Cyan sat up on his haunches, taking an interest for the first time. He looked down at his outfit, puffing out his chest and admiring it.
"It's cute, don't you think?" he simply said, a hint of vanity creeping into his voice. "It looks really good on me."
"It's the middle of the night." I pointed out, shaking my head, flabbergasted. His nonchalant attitude only made the whole situation seem stranger—not that it wasn't weird enough already.
"You're kinda cute too." he noted wryly, his gaze roaming down my body. I felt suddenly self-conscious of the way I was dressed—in my nightwear, ready for bed.
All of a sudden, with scarcely a warning twitch of his tail, his carefree demeanor shifted in an instant. His wide, innocent eyes narrowed to mischievous slits, and his curious expression twisted into a playful smirk that revealed a pointed pair of feline fangs. The abrupt change caught me off guard, and in that moment, he pounced.
Before I knew what was happening, I found myself flat on my back with his lithe form atop me. His hands pinned my wrists to the ground above my head, and he straddled my waist, his lean hips swishing back and forth in time with his tail. His face hovered inches from my own, gazing down at me with a triumphant sneer, his ears standing straight up and twitching towards me. I squirmed and struggled beneath him, but he easily shifted his weight to counter my every motion. He bore down upon me with a surprising strength, prompting the realization he could overpower me with ease—though, for the moment, he seemed content to let me struggle. Instead of pressing me to the ground with his full power, he used just enough force to hold me down, dangling the chance of escape before me before snatching it away over and over again, amusing himself as if it were a game, as if I were a ball of yarn for him to unravel.
"G-get off me!" I spluttered, wriggling and thrashing. The leverage I needed always seemed just a movement away, yet no matter how I squirmed I could never seem to find a foothold.
"Why would I do that~ ?" he teased, shifting and repositioning with a fluid grace to deny my every struggle, his smirk growing wider with each little victory. "You want this just as much as I do!"
"I don't want anything!" I protested, trying to slip my wrists from his grip. To my surprise, he let me—before immediately catching them again at my sides, his hands already waiting there to pin them, as if he knew my every movement before I did.
"Oho~ ? If that's true, then why are you blushing like that?" he snickered, his low voice gaining an almost impish quality.
"I'm embarrassed for you, wearing that weird getup!" I shouted, still reeling from the almost surreal situation I was trapped in. "The hell's wrong with you, strutting around dressed like that?
"Don't be jealous." he countered, flashing his fangs with another roguish smile. "You wish you looked as cute as I do!"
The whole situation seemed unreal, almost dreamlike; I was being held down by a catboy twice my size, who'd decided to hang around in my yard, in the middle of the night, wearing a skimpy maid outfit. If it wasn't for the gentle bite of his hands gripping my wrists tight, I'd be almost convinced it was some bizarre dream.
I tried to pull my knees up in an effort to push him off me, but he simply shifted his weight backwards, planting his firm butt squarely on my thighs and sitting atop them, his tail swaying playfully to and fro. As he arched his back and drew himself up to his full height, I found myself suddenly struck by the way the moonlight played across his bare torso, outlining every curve and contour. Despite his sleek build he was surprisingly toned: long, sinuous bands of muscle shifted beneath his smooth skin, almost hidden until cast in sharp relief under the cloudless nighttime sky.
A snigger drew my attention upwards to Cyan's eyes, which studied me with a wicked interest, his lips pursed in a fascinated 'O'. My momentary distraction hadn't gone unnoticed. A low rumble emanated from his throat, and I realized he was purring.
"See something you like~ ?" he asked, his tone laden with intrigue as much as it was with invitation. He coiled his body over me, bringing his face close to mine again. His voice fell to a hushed whisper, dark and thick with desire. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to get off me!" I retorted, renewing my struggle to free my wrists from the unyielding grip of his warm fingers.