The Mop

Author's Note: You may wonder what the hell goes through my mind when I decide to write things like this. Partially it's the need to stress that anything can be made to work if you just go about it carefully enough, and to be frank I've seen a lot worse in my day. Partially it's the fact that people give me really bad ideas and then tell me to write them.

Dedicated to Aithilin. Who told me which characters to write about.

Warnings: Cats of the four-legged variety. Described sexuality. Insinuations of slash. A mop.

Disclaimer: I dis-claim ownership, which means the only thing you can sue me for is defamation of character. But please dont.

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He knew where she would be. Right there waiting for him. Just there, angled in that particular way. Hiding in the corner. Munkustrap smiled. The expression on his face was secretive, sultry, his eyes lit up with a sort of predatory gleam. His movement exuded a heated sexuality.
The scent was hanging the air. Lovely, intoxicating and raw. Drawing him in, calling to his body to respond.

Her scent was beautiful, and the silver tabby breathed it in deeply through his nostrils. The pheremones in the air were so thick that he felt his body start to respond even without visual stimulus. Padding around the various obstacles in his way, his pawsteps were soft against the tiles. His body low to the ground in a manner that disguised the emergence of his hard pink shaft.
As he approached the source of the scent he opened his mouth wide, breathing in and tasting the air. The muscles in his throat contracted in answer, an odd chirping noise clawing it's way out of his open mouth.
The sound whisked through the air. A musical trill that signalled his willingness to mate with her.

Munkustrap crested the last obstacle, the claws of his forepaws unsheathing in order for more traction to his pounce. The silver tabby tom was just about to leap when something stopped him. Curiously, he tilted his head to the side, ears flicking back.
That couldn't be right.

He saw the source of the pheremones, and it was no queen. But the scent was still there, so thick and unabated that he couldn't help but be tempted. It called to him, taunting him with the smell of its sexuality.
The ache from his loins precluded his momentary confusion, and he pounced down onto the floor in front of the source of the scent.

Munkustrap's tail waved from side to side in the air, his purr a silent vibration from his chest. He brushed past the thick, ropelike body, slinking close to rub against it. He made a second pass, rubbing his forehead against the body.
He then retreated a few paces, then repeated his strangled chirp. The effort wasn't conscious, it was the scent that was driving him to distraction, and he began to pace closer again, his hips involuntarily rocking against the air.

The silver tabby let out a breath, sighing in pleasure when his pelvis finally met something corporeal. The same something that exuded that intoxicating scent, even if it wasn't a queen. All his senses but sight, and a small part of his mind that portested his actions, were telling him that it was a female. And that was enough.
He could feel the barbed tip of his shaft catch on each of his backthrusts, but there were no yowls. No hisses and screeches of pain. In his opinion, the silence was welcoming. No struggling from beneath him to drown out the pleasure.
His claws unsheathed into the ropelike strands, drawing no sound of protest.

He finished with a whine, and a jerk of his hips that sent the wooden handle falling to the floor. Munkustrap sank down to the floor, tangled in the strands of the mop's body.
Momentarily he spared a thought for his lost dignity. He was a tom who had just finished copulating with a mop. There had to be something vaguely disturbing about that. Rather than bother with anything else, Munkustrap simply lay where he was, panting slightly.

The sounds of another cat's amusement made him glare, and he looked up to see the other tom of the household seated on the kitchen table and looking very amused.
'I see you couldn't help yourself around the mop, either,' the Rum Tum Tugger sent to him silently.
'I don't understand why,' Munkustrap admitted tiredly, 'it still smells awfully like a queen in heat to me.'
The Tugger raised a forepaw and casually gave it a few licks before swiping it over his ear, the feline signal for a nod. 'Jemima is in her first cycle,' the maine coon told him, 'the humans took her to the vet this morning and cleaned up with that mop.' The large bicolour 'coon's nose twitched in a feline pout. 'I made the same mistake as you earlier but the human queen kicked me off. I didn't get to finish.'

Munkustrap's tail twitched as he tried to decide whether or not to untangle himself yet. The maine coon, however, seemed to have other ideas and the larger tomcat jumped down from the table to slink towards him. Munkustrap watched the Rum Tum Tugger with half-lidded eyes, one ear swivelling around to track the maine coon's movement.
The Tugger smirked slightly, his whiskers drawing back momentarily. 'You know, you have the scent of a queen in heat all over you, Munkustrap...'
The silver tabby hissed, attempting to untangle himself from the mop's ropey fibres. 'Dont you even think about it!'

There was a yowl, and the sound of a mop-handle skidding across the floor. A sound that other cats would recognise as a chuckle permeated the air.

Later, while nursing a set of stitches on her stomach, Jemima would be very glad that she had come across neither tomcat in the house that morning.