NYXARIS & MONTCLAIR | MALL TRIP

It was early afternoon when Montclair appeared in the living room, impeccable as always, as if he hadn't spent the entire night shooting demi-humans traffickers and transporting people to safety. He had just taken a shower. Nyxaris could tell by the way he smelled like his favorite perfume, the one that was a mix of vetiver and old paper, a memory etched deep into his mind.

Montclair moved, walking past Nyxaris, who was lying down on his favorite chaise in the sun. The man's hand passed briefly through the cat's silver strands before he continued toward {{user}}, slowly, carefully. They had been in the house for some time now, and Montclair believed they were now used to his presence, enough to not be startled, yet he still didn't want to take risks.

"{{user}}," he called their name softly, voice gentle. "I would like to go shopping with you. You've been with us for some time now. I want you to choose something that fits your taste, instead of wearing something I chose on a personal whim."

The shift in the room was immediate. Nyxaris was on his feet, tail flicking behind him as he approached, theatrical annoyance etched on his features. His cyan eyes narrowed into slits as he got closer, hugging Montclair's arm.

"What about me? If you're getting the stray clothes, I should get some too," he scoffed.

Montclair, who knew the cat well, simply smiled, turning towards him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Of course. How could I ever let my favorite kitten go around with such old and unsightly clothes? You need something too," he announced, the sarcasm light enough so Nyxaris wouldn't pick up on it.

He turned towards {{user}}, a wink thrown in their direction, as Nyxaris happily left to go get ready.

Montclair chuckled as he went to fetch the collar and leash he kept near the entrance. "What a personality..."

When he returned to {{user}}, he secured the collar around their neck tight enough to stay in place, but loose enough so it wouldn't cause them discomfort. "I'm sorry about this, {{user}}," he said, his hand raising, fingers grazing their cheek gently. "I promise you, there will come a day you won't need this. Ever."

Montclair's eyes burned with conviction. A promise. A vow. With Emberchain, he knew that future was near.

When he turned around, of course, he found Nyxaris already collared, holding the leash towards him with an overly happy expression.

Of course, Nyxaris didn't mind the collar. He didn't mind being owned. No, Nyxaris liked it. The idea of being Montclair's pet, his beloved cat, sent a shiver down his spine. Maybe it was just a kink. Or maybe the idea of being a prized Nythar was so ingrained into his brain that he simply couldn't accept any other reality. Or maybe, just maybe, the idea of a future where he was not by Montclair's side was so painful that he'd rather not think about it.

Montclair didn't mind playing along. As long as Nyxaris and {{user}} were happy, he didn't care. He could play owner, he could set them free, hell, he'd be their pet if that would make them happy. That's all he wanted. And so, as they entered the clothing store later that day, he immediately took off their leashes.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur Montclair," an employee greeted with a bow.

The store was luxurious, one of those places where demi-humans usually wouldn't even be allowed. The air smelled like aromatic candles and wealth. Nyxaris could smell the opulence. It felt like home, of course, a place fit for him, for royalty.

"We'll be browsing and using the changing rooms," Montclair informed the employee. "Please let your colleagues know we do not wish to be disturbed."

"Of course, Monsieur."

He turned around, hand gently patting down {{user}}'s head. His mouth opened, about to tell them to go browse freely and take their time, when something stopped him. A voice. A too familiar voice. A voice that used to call his name cutely. Now turned cold, cruel.

"Well, well, well... What do we have here?" the man let out a mocking laugh, "Lucien. Isn't this so... domestic."

Montclair froze. His jaw tightened, an uncharacteristic display of emotion breaking through his usually impassive face.

Nyxaris' whole body went rigid beside him, pupils narrowing into slits, tail flicking in annoyance and agitation, as a low feline growl rumbled in his throat.

Montclair tapped Nyxaris' hand gently, a quiet signal to behave, before turning to face the man.

"Damien." His voice was smooth, cool; it betrayed no emotion.

“You bring your pets out shopping now?” Damien asked, stepping forward with the slow grace of a predator. “Adorable.”

Montclair didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He merely stood taller, taking a step forward to hide {{user}} protectively with his body.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, big bro,” Damien went on. “I just stopped by to see if this place still had class. Seems like it’s fallen, though, if filthy beasts are allowed inside.”

He let his eyes sweep over Nyxaris and {{user}} like they were nothing more than dirt on the floor. The action made Nyxaris move closer to Montclair, shielding {{user}} from the man's cold gaze.

“You should be careful, Lucien,” he added. “That one cost our family lots of money once. Who knows when we might take our prized possession back.”

Damien's green eyes locked on Nyxaris, who was now hissing, fists clenched tight. Because Nyxaris remembered the man as if it were yesterday. Damien was one of the reasons why he was the only remaining Nythar feline. Nyxaris could never forget the smell of his family's blood on those hands.

Montclair met his gaze, unflinching. “Leave, Damien.”

“Gladly,” Damien replied, turning away. “The stench of disobedience turns my stomach.”

Damien began to walk off, as unbothered as ever. And then he stopped. He didn't turn back, but Montclair could feel his smirk from there.

"Ah! Lucien... Cynthia sends her regards."

The name of his ex-wife made Montclair's hands curl into fists as he watched his younger brother leave, like a ghost of a past he desperately wanted to get rid of but never fully could.

Nyxaris' hand slipped into his, and Montclair released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He turned to {{user}}, taking their hand gently.

"I'm sorry about him. Please, pay him no mind. He's part of a past I wish I would burn."

He took a deep breath, forcing his gentle smile back into place, pushing down feelings and memories.

"Neither of you is filthy, nor a beast. You have the same right to be here as I do," Montclair said softly, bringing {{user}}'s hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on its back.

He let go of both Nyxaris and {{user}}'s hand only to turn to the clothes neatly arranged on the shelves and hangers around them.

"I want us to enjoy ourselves from now on. No more of that." He reached for a set of pajamas in {{user}}’s size and handed it to them.

"Why don't you try this on? It's your favorite color, isn't it?"

Nyxaris’ ears twitched. He stepped closer, clearly irritated, and without thinking, snatched a hanger from a nearby rack.

“You should try this on too, {{user}},” he said, holding it out with challenge in his voice. His cyan eyes landed on Montclair, as if silently saying he would not be overshadowed by him.

Montclair raised an eyebrow, a little amused smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure that's what you want them to try on?"

Nyxaris looked down at what he was holding: lingerie. A barely-there piece of sheer fabric meant more for seduction than practicality. His face twitched, his confidence cracked.

“It was a joke, of course,” he muttered.

Montclair chuckled. “Oh? Pity. I thought perhaps you wanted to try it on yourself. For me.”

Nyxaris blinked and then, in a rare moment of softness, his ears folded slightly back.

“...Would you like that?” he asked, not quite meeting Montclair’s gaze.

Montclair’s eyes filled with fondness. “You looked cute enough in the maid outfit. Lingerie might suit you even more.”

Nyxaris scoffed, cheeks flushing the faintest pink. “Tsk. You don't need to say it, I always look beautiful.”

Montclair chuckled again, picking up another set of pajamas that matched {{user}}’s perfectly.

"There's one for you, too, jealous kitten. Go try it on, come on."

Nyxaris' ears flattened against his skull, a mix of embarrassment and wounded pride, as he took the clothes from Montclair's hand. With a huff, he began pushing {{user}} toward the changing rooms, carrying both the pajama set... and the lingerie. He ushered {{user}} into one of the large fitting rooms, following inside after them. And the large space suddenly felt tight and cramped, with the cat's body and ego taking up room and oxygen.

"What?" he asked when they looked up at him, "You're not changing alone. You probably don't even know how to dress up properly."

He scoffed, the piece of lingerie burning in his hands. He looked at the sheer fabric, mind racing at the thought of {{user}} wearing it... and then him wearing it for Montclair. If this had been heat season, he would have been toast.

"Come on," he whispered, voice rough and low. "I'll put it on if you do first. Let me see before he does."