Honestly, I wish I didn't feel compelled to write for Boris. There are less popular characters who need fanfic…but…Boris is my favorite. I can't help it. It's probably a mental disorder. At first this was going to be M but I said…meh. I'mma just make this high-T. So enjoy. This will be multi-chap. It will have no plot, but it will have suggestive content because those are my priorities, dawgs.

Warnings: Fluff and suggestive content.

He's not nearly as clever and sneaky as he thinks he is.

The aggravated thought ran through Alice's mind as her feet softly carried her along a path through the forest. In the rolling thick trees alongside her there was a rustling of a not-so-sneaky stalker, and she knew just who it was.

But she would play along for him. After all, he wasn't as bad as her real stalker, a certain Peter White.

In a split moment something burst forth, wrapping its arms around her shoulders and tackling her to the ground. He was on top of her, body pressed into hers. She stared up into his rich gold eyes, annoyed, before bursting out into laughter.

"I knew you were there!" she said.

"So?" A smile formed, showing off Boris's sharp teeth. "Doesn't matter. So long as you're incapable of dodging I'll always be able to get you."

"I could run."

"Not fast enough." He leaned his body in against her, closing his eyes and purring.

Pressing her hands against his chest, she tried to push him. "Will you let me up?"

"I caught you. I'll never let you go."

She kicked his leg.

"Alice!" His whining rang in her ears.

"I told you to get off."

She felt his weight shift as he stood up, even offering her a hand up. "Sorry. You're not mad, are you?"

"No." She fell into step beside him, hair wafting gently in the breeze that shook through the forest.

"Oh, good. I hate it when you get mad. You're too sensitive sometimes."

Sighing, she allowed the argument to die there. Yes, she could retort, but arguments could go on for hours with him. At the end of them he still wouldn't likely see her point-of-view. Was it a mere side effect of the two being from different worlds? It could.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his cheery voice.

"Guess who's the prettiest girl ever, Alice? !"

He looked so excited looking at her with that goofy, half-cocked grin that she wanted to crush him.

"Blood?"

His face fell and took on a disgusted look. "Eh?"

"No?" she said, smiling. "Maybe Vivaldi…"

"What?" He said, expression contorting in confusion. "Vivaldi's not a girl."

"Really, Boris? You never noticed the volleyball-shaped boobs?"

"No…" A wicked look sparked. "Have you? You into that, Alice?"

Flushing madly, she flailed her arms out in front of her. "Of course not! I just-"

With a wide, unsettling grin that reminded her of just why he was the Cheshire Cat, he came towards her in an almost predatory way. Grasping her hands in his larger ones, he whispered in her ear. "You should prove it." There was a sweet, sensual purr in his voice.

"Prove it?" She blinked. "Prove what? !"

Without answering, she felt his hot cheek slide against her flushed face. There she was in his arms, frozen by shock as his body warmed against hers.

"Mmm, Alice," he said softly, chuckling. "You're shivering all over."

His words sent wisps of hot air into her sensitive ear, causing her to fall against his chest and deeper into his arms. She shook harder, nervousness flooding her body, her heart beating a wild tempo against her chest.

Holding her at arm's length, he moved away and barked a laugh. "Guess what? I win!"

Cheeks still a bright red, she grit her teeth. "That…was just a joke? !"

"Yeah. It was pretty funny, wasn't it?" There was absolutely no malice in his voice. Alice could sense that he almost couldn't even fathom what he had done was wrong.

"Boris…" Still furious, she turned away, arms crossed. He was so unfair! Making her feel so many wild and mad emotions with just a touch and then only playing it off as a joke. So very unfair. It almost made tears come to her eyes. Almost.

"Hey, Alice! You should have seen your fa-" His words stopped completely as he scooted around her and caught sight of her expression, a mix of sadness and rage. "Alice?"

"That was cruel."

"What?"

She couldn't explain it. When she tried to retort, to tell him what and how he had done was wrong her words were caught in her throat. "Nothing!"

"I made you unhappy, didn't I?" He frowned, his usual sunny expression falling.

"Well…a little," she conceded.

He gripped her arm, pulling her so hard that she almost fell over. "Hey! Gimme a chance to cheer you up, then! Come on to my room."

"What could possibly be in your room that I care about?"

He grinned. "Me."

"Oh, so you think you're enough to get me to leave this nice-"

Before she could even finish the sentence, he picked her up in his arms, holding her bridal style, and began cheerily march the opposite way down the path.

"Sorry, you protest too much."

And with that he carried the protesting foreigner all the way to his room.

"So, whatcha think?" As he leaned towards her, she took a chance to glance around his room. It was as colorful as him, with the same punk style. Pink and black dominated and patterns she never thought went together were tossed together with such lack of taste or care that she couldn't help but laugh.

"I like the chains and gold. Very pimp." She watched him, sitting on his bed.

"Really? Yeah, it is pretty sweet!"

She gave him a genuine smile that stretched full across her face. "You're like a puppy!" She patted his head.

He gave her a flat look. "What are you talking about? I'm a cat. It's obvious."

Laughing, she began scratching behind his ears, her fingers curling through his soft hair. "Whatever, Boris."

"No, seriously. That's not how you pet a cat," he said. "You have to do long but firm strokes."

"Like this?"

"Firmer."

"…this?"

"Mmmm…Oh God, Alice. Yeah. Like that."

His head pushed against her fingers as she petted, his eyes staring up at her with such contentment that she felt her heart melt. He was adorable, like one of the cute, little plushie toys she and Gray loved so much or her cat, Diana. His tail batted back and forth, knocking against her leg.

Laughing, she continued petting him, hand running down his face, his cheek, his neck and shoulders. She almost didn't think anything of it. After all, in that moment he wasn't a boy as much as a cat. She didn't ponder how he was a strange dichotomy of cat and human.

At this moment all she saw was Boris, a perfect mixture of whatever the hell he was.

He practically crawled into her lap, rubbing his cheek against hers, his soft ear accidentally brushing against her face.

A young faceless employee passed by the door of Boris's room. The dialogue she heard from the young cat boy's room made her stop in her tracks. She brushed her red hair up to check what she was hearing was what she thought it was.

"…long but firm strokes."

With wide eyes, she shot against the door, pressing her ear against the chilly wood.

"Like this?"

"Firmer."

To keep from letting out a squeak, she put her gloved hand to her mouth.

"…this?"

"Mmmm…Oh God, Alice. Yeah. Like that."

Oh my. Alice and Boris are much closer than anyone thought.

Much closer.

"I love your touch, Alice!"

"Don't get used to it."

"I just like you touching me."

She scooted from the door and scurried down the hall, simply bursting to tell everyone what she had just found out.

The foreigner and the Cheshire Cat!

Who knew?

Certainly not even Boris and Alice.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, dragging her down on the bed on top of him.

She was so caught up in the moment she didn't even realize what was happening. She had never felt happier or so light. All her worries melted in his arms, and she cuddled deeply against him.

"You're the best bed I've ever had," she said lightly.

"Yeah, well, you're the best Alice ever."

"I'm the only Alice."

"I don't care. Even if another Alice showed up you'd still be the best. I'd even look her in the face and tell her that. Because you're perfect."

The pace of her heart quickened. She pulled herself up onto her arms, face hovering over his, staring into his eyes…

His eyes were closed, his face turned to the side and his breathing slow.

He had fallen asleep.

Sighing, she rolled to his side and scooted close.

What a lazy cat, she thought.