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Rubra and Penny are nestled together. An entomologist and a voice actor have found good company in each other.
"I want to try again."
"Me too."
"We'll take it slowly, to avoid... miscommunication, like last time."
"Mm-hmm." Penny traces invisible stars into Rubra's fur. "I think I'd like to be the sub this time."
"So you liked having me on top of you?"
"Well, I'll like it when I expect it."
Rubra smiles. "I trust us to communicate."
Penny's cheeks are flushed. "I'd love for you to hold me down. Maybe even pretend you're mad at me, if it feels right."
"Okay. Should I be mad about something in particular?"
"Anything. We'll improvise," Penny replies. "Maybe you're mad because I keep trying to escape. Make me be sorry for it." More invisible stars in Rubra's fur. "Ooh, and take my shirt off me."
"I can definitely do that."
"How do you want to lose your shirt?"
Rubra thinks, then shakes her head. "Too much future. We'll see what feels right in the moment."
"Your shirt is great." Penny stares, mesmerized.
"This is my favorite shirt." It's the forewing venation pattern of a honeybee depicted as stained glass, with the cells and main veins labeled.
"It's beautiful."
"It's more than just beautiful. We'd be nothing without insects and their wings. No pollination, no food. No decomposition."
"Would you be an insect, if you could?"
Rubra rubs her chin. "That question is very broad. I've certainly thought about what it would be like. But at the end of the day, I can't know that reality."
"Fair enough."
"And this reality is quite enjoyable."
"I agree."
They kiss. They shift positions. They tussle. Rubra's wrists grab Penny's. Penny fights, her pulse quickening as Rubra gently presses her down against the bed. They kiss more. Rubra nibbles Penny's throat and the human gasps with delight. As Penny tries to resist, Rubra comes down heavier. "How dare you try to escape!" she whispers, her tone threatening enough to make Penny shudder.
"I'm sorry!" Penny squeaks. Her legs are helplessly tangled in Rubra's knees and ankles. Her arms are pinned down by Rubra's elbows. Somehow, beautifully, the cat can control all her limbs and still have two free hands with which to open her button-down. And she does it without a rush in the world. The two creatures bask in this sea of air that they've evolved to breathe, these neurotransmitters they've evolved to crave.
"This good?" Rubra asks. Her knuckles graze Penny's ribs and arms as she removes the unbuttoned blouse.
Penny is breathless. Her nerves shudder. She nods. "Uh-huh."
With Penny's shirt out of the way, Rubra encloses her fingers around the human's wrists once more, denying Penny's efforts to free herself. She has a thought to reprimand Penny again for her attempts to escape, but she doesn't want to overdo it. There must be more to feign anger about.
Then she hears a deep gasp of an inhalation from below her, and Penny sneezes. She's a skilled voice actor, and Rubra would assume it was a real sneeze if she didn't know any better.
"I'm so sorry!" Penny continues to struggle against Rubra's grip, making the cat tighten hers.
The spontaneity and originality of this idea is amusing to Rubra. "You just sneezed on my favorite shirt!" she growls.
Rubra feels Penny's energy shift on this. She writhes in discomfort, her eyes marked by a kind of terror that Rubra hasn't seen before. "I-I didn't mean to!"
Rubra stares down at Penny's wide eyes. "Um, safeword." She releases Penny's wrists. Penny still looks stressed. "We're just acting, right?"
"I'm sorry," Penny cries. "That was real. I actually sneezed on your favorite shirt."
"Oh. Ew." Rubra takes off the shirt and tosses it to the floor by the laundry hamper in the corner. "I guess that's how I get my shirt off today," she laughs. But Penny doesn't look amused.
"I'm sorry," Penny repeats, hugging her knees to her chest.
"Penny, it's okay. It's a shirt. I'll wash it."
But Penny is listening to some other, louder voice. Anxiety. You did something wrong. In fact, you can't do anything right. Now Rubra is mad at you. Her anxiety has the tired, tense voice she once used to perform the character of a surgeon who, despite decades of grappling with the unpredictable nature of bodies, would still blame herself and her team when the infinite variables could not be controlled.
Rubra strokes Penny's hair -- a reaffirming gesture they've discussed previously. Penny welcomes the grounding touch.
"You do know you didn't do anything wrong, right?" Rubra asks.
"I find that hard to believe," Penny sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm making too big a deal out of this."
"Penny," Rubra coos. "You have a beautiful soul. You are a vertebrate. You have mammalian reflexes. It's part of having a body. Anxiety is also part of having a complex nervous system. It's all... just... existing. There's nothing wrong with it. There's nothing wrong with you."
Penny lets the words sink in while Rubra strokes her hair and rubs her back. She sighs. "Thanks, Rubra."
Rubra puts her hands behind her head and leans back. "This reality is quite enjoyable."
Penny smiles. Rubra is very grounding in this moment. "I really liked the way you were holding me down. That felt good. Do you want to keep going?"
"Yes!"