Secrets

And now for the second (and final) part. Do be warned: this part contains naughty sex and is not for kittens. It also contains mpreg, in case the hints in part one weren't clear enough.

Enjoy! :)

Part Two

Skimble hadn't bothered joining Jenny for tea for weeks, and she and Jellylorum seemed quite content to keep their distance. Though Jenny still gave him looks here and there around the junkyard—disapproving, disappointed, but occasionally compassionate, and somehow that made Skimble feel even worse.

He wondered if she was giving Mistoffelees any such looks. It was obvious that most everyone knew about his relationship with the young tom by now—gossip spread like wildfire in the junkyard. Skimble found himself on the receiving end of more than a few strange looks and awkward conversations. From the toms such as Munkustrap and Alonzo, he received icy stares; from the queens, he received sad and pitiable looks; and from the younger generation, Mistoffelees' friends, he got confusion, as though they couldn't quite wrap their minds around what they'd supposedly heard. He hoped nobody was harassing Mistoffelees, though the young tom hadn't said anything, and in fact seemed as bright-eyed and cheerful as ever.

None of the stares and attitudes mattered, not when he had his sanctuary with Mistoffelees. They still met every few nights to cuddle by the train station, to laugh and talk about everything that had nothing to do with the junkyard. It was these little moments that made it all worth it in Skimble's mind.

They'd kept to kissing and rather chaste touching for the most part, though it was obvious Mistoffelees longed for more. He wasn't an innocent kitten, and had needs that needed fulfilling, though Skimble couldn't help hearing the disapproving voices of his former mate and her friends whenever he thought of taking things further with his young lover.

It was Mistoffelees who finally decided they'd waited long enough, crawling into his lap one evening and kissing him hard enough to silence the disapproving voices, giving Skimble a seductively cheeky look as he arched his spine and twined his tail around the other cat's legs, beckoning him to slide into the safety of their little crate cubby-space, away from prying eyes.

They kissed for a few minutes, slowly and deeply, and the way Mistoffelees insistently rubbed himself against Skimble left his intentions very clear.

"Love," Skimble said, gently nuzzling the side of Mistoffelees' face. "You're quite sure about this, now?"

The young tom's response left very little to the imagination. With one paw, he gripped the fabric of Skimble's brown vest to pull him closer; with his other paw, he took the bigger, orange one and guided it down to rest against his own very prominent erection.

Skimble shuddered slightly and rubbed his lover's member, keeping his touches light for the moment. He remembered being a young, excitable tom, and how easy it was to spend oneself under a too-strong caress.

Mistoffelees' eyes slid shut and he bit his lip, breathing hard for a few moments and encouraging the touches with little hip thrusts. After a moment he opened his eyes and whispered, "You're my first, you know. But I'm not scared."

With a small, nervous laugh, Skimble gently kissed the other cat and laid his forehead against the other's. "You're not? I am."

"Please don't be," Mistoffelees huffed, and rocked his hips to emphasize his point. "I'm ready for you—I want you."

It would have been too much to explain to him, Skimble thought, why he felt apprehensive about this, why he feared reprisals if word of this got back to Jenny through her gossipy contacts. But—as he leaned in to kiss Mistoffelees again, and felt the young tom happily smile into the kiss—he remembered that any comments or jeers were worth this. If Mistoffelees was happy, then he was happy.

"Just lie back, lad," Skimble whispered, giving the hard flesh in his paw one last stroke, earning an adorably frustrated glare in the process. He grinned, soothing the frustration by pressing his mouth to the tux's neck, replacing his lips with the gentle press of fangs as he began to work his way lower.

By the time he was done nipping over a fluffy chest and stomach, stopping to dip his rough tongue at the juncture of hip and thigh, Mistoffelees was a squirming, panting mess. While the tux wasn't a kitten, in many ways Skimble was reminded that he also wasn't the type of grown-up, experienced tom Skimble was used to courting.

Skimble had fond memories of an older tom he'd met years ago, long before Jenny. He'd been about a season older than Mistoffelees was now, and jumping aboard the Midnight Mail for one of his first trip. On board, he'd made the acquaintance of a patchy silver tom, and before long, the acquaintanceship turned to attraction.

There, in their own private space on board the Midnight Mail's luggage compartment, the patchy tom had asked the younger Skimble to lie back and pay attention as they first kissed. Soon, Skimble discovered the pleasures of having a tom take him in his mouth, and within a minute he was spent. Afterwards, the tom laid back and asked Skimble to try it out for himself.

The patchy silver tom had been his first. They mated here and there for a few weeks before he disappeared from the station, leaving Skimble momentarily lonely but pleased with everything he had learned. Despite years of being mated to Jenny, he hadn't forgotten what it was like to be with a tom, and purred with pleasure as he took Mistoffelees in his mouth and licked at him.

He took his time touching and tasting and preparing his young lover. Mistoffelees purred and arched as Skimble now played teacher, remembering his own first time with that tom.

Even as he moved inside Mistoffelees, slowly and gently, he kept his gaze fastened on the delicate white face, supporting his own weight by splaying his paws on the ground on either side of Mistoffelees' head.

It didn't take long—oh, the impetuousness of youth—before Mistoffelees came for the first time in the presence of his lover, gasping soundlessly and pulling on Skimble's arm fur. When he was finished, the tux slumped back and unfurled his arms, looking up at Skimble with a hazy, satisfied smile as the tabby continued his gentle pace and reached his own peak.

Afterwards, they curled into each other's arms as the gentle whistles of the trains came and went. Skimble tightly held his purring lover, idly wondered if any of Jenny's friends happened to be wandering in the area, intent on eyeing or overhearing a bit of juicy business, but all of a sudden, Skimble found he couldn't care less about Jenny's and Jellylorum's and anyone else's thoughts and opinions on the topic. He had Mistoffelees. This was all he needed.

If Jenny and the other queens somehow knew about the progression of their relationship into a more intimate one, they made no mention of it. The usual glares and glances continued in the junkyard, but Skimble was used to it. It had become part of every day life now.

As before, he kept his distance from Mistoffelees while in the junkyard, saving the kisses and touches for when they could surreptitiously sneak away to his or Mistoffelees' den, or step away and head to the train station. Their relationship was no longer a secret but it seemed prudent not to broadcast it to everyone.

Skimble had, in fact, been on his way to locate Mistoffelees, with the intent to ask him to come along on an earlier shift at the train station. He'd followed his young lover's familiar scent to a corner of the junkyard, where an old rusted truck sat on its wheel-less undercarriage, two doors missing. He wondered if Mistoffelees had curled up inside the truck for a nap, but the sudden sound of voices made it clear that Mistoffelees was not alone.

On the other side of the truck, not visible to Skimble, rose a taunting voice. "What are you trying to prove, anyway?"

"I already told you to stop following me," Mistoffelees said, agitated. "I have nothing to say to you two."

"We're asking you a question," said a third voice. "Because you're not making sense! Is he giving you something? Presents? Catnip? Why else would you want to be around him? It's so bloody weird!"

Skimble closed his eyes with a wince. Tumblebrutus and Pouncival. Both younger than Mistoffelees, but bigger than him. Stepping in would be awkward, given the power differential, but could he risk letting the heftier kittens hurt Mistoffelees? Not that the tux couldn't handle himself, but…

"What does it matter to you?" Mistoffelees huffed. "I love him and he loves me. Does it matter why?"

"You love him?" Tumblebrutus said with a disgusted gasp. "Do you… do you kiss him?"

"Ew, Misto! That's so disgusting!"

There came a frustrated groan that was clearly from Mistoffelees; it was all Skimble could do to keep himself from running around the truck and helping. It was torture enough just listening to his lover being bullied like this.

"I don't care what you two gits think!" Mistoffelees shouted. "I'm asking you again to leave me alone. Is that clear?"

"Everlasting, tell me you don't… mate with him, do you? That's sick!"

"So what? So what if we do mate? So what if we enjoy it?"

All of a sudden there came the sound of a dull smack, a brief scuffling sound, and two alarmed yelps as a flash illuminated the other side of the car. It was enough to make Skimble bolt from his hiding place, though he'd already started moving the second he heard the smack.

He glanced at the retreated backs as the two young cats high-tailed it from the area… and Mistoffelees, kneeling on the ground and clasping a white paw to his nose.

The tux looked up with watery eyes as Skimble approached. A small blossom of red began to coat the paw.

"I… I didn't hurt them," Mistoffelees said, voice muffled behind his paw. He sniffed once, and winced. "I just scared them away."

Skimble sighed, kneeling down besides the bleeding tux. "I know, love, I know. I heard it all. Let me see…"

Mistoffelees resisted at first as the older cat tried to pry his paw away, but finally relented and allowed himself to be examined. His whiskers twitched as blood dripped down onto them; after a few seconds, Skimble nodded slightly, satisfied that the injured nose at least wasn't broken.

"Might be sore for a bit," he said, allowing Mistoffelees to press his paw to his nose once more.

The tux nodded glumly. "They… they were saying some awful things about us… about you."

"It's all right, love." He pulled Mistoffelees into a hug, mindful of jarring the paw covering the injury, and laid a gentle kiss between his ears. "Has… has anything like this happened to you before? Has anyone else given you trouble?"

Mistoffelees' lengthy silence was answer enough, and suddenly Skimble went from concerned to angry. Jenny and the other cats jeering at Skimble were one thing; but for the others to be targeting Mistoffelees…

"It hasn't been bad," Mistoffelees finally said, his voice small and weak. "This is the first time anyone's ever hit me. Mostly they tease, give me looks, call me names, tell me we should consider breaking it off."

"Who does?"

"… Everyone."

"Bloody hell," Skimble muttered.

Mistoffelees sighed, cuddling harder against Skimble's chin. "I don't care. I-I'm happy with you. I don't care what anyone says for me to do."

"You should care a little lad. I don't want you to keep getting hurt like this."

"It's all right." The tux gently rubbed his nose and made a tentative sniff. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Quite right it won't," Skimble said sternly. He punctuated his words by tightening his hold. "Because whatever it takes, I'm going to keep you safe."

Munkustrap gave a weary sigh, looking down at Skimble with an air of apathy, which served only to further frustrate the other cat. "And? What exactly do you expect me to do about this?"

"Anything, Munk," Skimble pleaded. "Talk to the lads—they look up to you. Let them know they can't keep bullying Mistoffelees like this."

"If I talk to them, it will look like I'm taking sides."

Bristling, Skimble cast a pleading glance to Demeter, who stood impassively next to the tabby. If she disagreed with Munkustrap's attitude, she made no show of it.

"If you do nothing, you'll be taking sides anyway!" Skimble fumed. "Inaction always benefits the ones doing the oppressing, Munkustrap."

"Aren't you being a little over-dramatic?"

"I'm not asking you to take sides. Just to protect a young Jellicle in your charge who is being bullied and beaten. Does it matter why?"

"It does. I can't defend him if I don't agree with him."

"So you too, eh?" Skimble sighed. "And you don't call that taking sides?

"You've got the whole junkyard in an uproar," Munkustrap said. In a deliberately intimidating posture, he straightened up to look down at the older tom. "You want me to fix things? Even if I did, it wouldn't change anything. If you want to protect Misto, then end things. Admit that this wasn't a very good idea to begin with."

"Sweep everything under the rug? That will make everything better, will it?"

"It might make the others leave Mistoffelees alone of their own volition."

"That's very neat," Skimble said with a bitter laugh. "Very neat indeed. Thank you for your tender concern, lad."

It wasn't helping, Skimble thought darkly, to be making more enemies, but it wasn't as though he had very many allies left in this junkyard. Without giving Munkustrap time to argue any further, he turned his back on the so-called protector and stalked away.

He found Mistoffelees later at the train station, sitting on their favourite spot by the crates, holding a small bloodstained cloth. At least his nose had stopped bleeding, and didn't look too badly bruised.

"It didn't work, did it?" Mistoffelees asked softly.

"How can you tell?"

"I can always tell when you look sad."

Skimble chuckled softly, pulling the small tom into an embrace. "And I try so hard to hide it."

"You can't. That's what I like about you. You never hide your feelings." Shifting into the hug, Mistoffelees sighed and murmured, "It's getting so hard, isn't it?"

"I should have known," Skimble said. "I should have thought about what this might do to you."

"I don't care. You didn't make me do anything."

"I doubt I could make you do anything. But I need to keep you safe."

Mistoffelees nodded sadly. Skimble wondered if he could read minds too. "We'll figure this out, won't we?"

"We will."

"You're planning on leaving."

Not 'you're planning on leaving me', Skimble noticed. There was no fear in the tux's voice, no worry that their love had somehow waned, only sad resignation at a situation that left them very little choice.

"For a while. Until all of this gets better. Until they leave you alone."

"I want to come with you."

"I figured you would want that."

"But you won't let me."

"Clearly, I can't keep any of my feelings to myself."

"I still want to come with you."

"No, Misto," Skimble softly said. "At least, not yet. Not when you still have a chance to fix things with everyone at the junkyard. Your life is there."

"It doesn't have to be!"

"For now, it has to be. But no matter what happens, lad… I love you."

Mistoffelees nodded, possessively sliding his claws into Skimble's brown vest. "Me too."

There, in the train station behind the crates, they mated one last time, and held each other for hours afterwards.

Once the station became crowded with passerby and stray toms and queens, they staged a loud, very public argument, and parted ways. As Skimble later learned, the gossip quickly made its way to the junkyard: the two scandalous lovers had finally seen reason, and ended their union, as evidenced by Skimble's sudden disappearance and Mistoffelees' saddened state.

They'd at least accomplished a semblance of a return to peace, and an assurance of Mistoffelees' safety in the junkyard, if only for the moment.

If only he'd known what else they accomplished that night.

When Skimble clambered back into Mistoffelees' den, seeing him again for the first time in weeks, he felt at once incredibly happy and incredibly guilty.

Guilty, because in an instant, he realized what he'd unknowingly left Mistoffelees alone to deal with.

And happy, because the sight of Mistoffelees sitting on his blankets and very obviously pregnant was the most unexpected and wonderful thing he could have imagined.

"So, how long do you have left?" Skimble asked, smiling uncontrollably as he now sat between Mistoffelees' legs, gently massaging his feet.

Mistoffelees was reclining on a thick pillow, purring softly as he ran a hand over the prominent bulge of his belly. He'd earlier insisted that he didn't need his feet massaged, and Skimble had insisted in turn that he was going to make up for missing out on so much of this unexpected, yet completely amazing pregnancy.

Skimble still couldn't believe it. A kitten; they'd made a kitten.

"Any day now, actually," Mistoffelees said. "I was sure you weren't going to come back in time—if you ever planned on coming back."

"I shouldn't have left," Skimble sighed. "Everlasting! If I'd have known, I never would have left you!"

"I know. And you were right—it did help, for a while. Everyone thought we'd split apart. In fact, everyone was very kind to me, thinking I needed all sorts of comfort, and even Jenny seemed pleased with you, saying you'd done the right thing."

"But for only for a while, I suppose?" Skimble asked.

"Well—Tugger tried to 'comfort' me after you left, and invited me to his den. I hacked up all over his floor."

Skimble snorted with laughter.

"You should have seen the look on his face," Mistoffelees smirked. "It didn't take long after that for everyone to realize I was pregnant. Everything changed then… it was just like before. Most everyone hates me now."

"Has anyone been hurting you?"

"No, no… at least there's that. But hardly anyone wants to talk to me now. It's been hard, being alone like this… but I wouldn't have changed anything. I like knowing that I'm going to have your kitten."

Skimble smiled warmly. "A little gift from your magic?"

"Maybe I didn't want you to leave," Mistoffelees said, biting his lip. "I wanted to go with you, and I don't want to stay here any more. I didn't mean to get pregnant, Skimble, not consciously, but…"

"I wouldn't blame you even if you did," Skimble said. He gently set down the limb he'd been massaging and shifted up to lay himself down next to his young lover. Hesitantly, because this still felt rather surreal, he placed a paw on the swollen stomach. "Has someone been checking on you and the kitten?"

"Jellylorum, mostly. She says the kitten is healthy and that I should be ready to give birth any day now."

"Then we shouldn't waste any time," Skimble said, sitting up. "Do you feel well enough to walk?"

"Of course!" Mistoffelees said with a small laugh. "I'm pregnant, not sick. Why, where are we going?"

Skimble rose to his feet, offering his young lover a hand up. It was the first time he'd clearly seen Mistoffelees' new figure and he smiled proudly at the sight of the small rounded belly.

"To start a new life, away from here, finally. We're going to do what we should have done weeks ago—leave, together. I know a queen who lives near the train station who will be able to help you deliver the kitten."

"Really? We won't have to come back to the junkyard? Ever again?"

"Not if you don't want to do."

Skimble huffed slightly as Mistoffelees pressed into him for a hug, squishing the pliant roundness of his belly into Skimble's stomach, and leaned down for a kiss.

They had no trouble finding themselves a new den, on the outskirts of London near the train station. Thankfully, they had no trouble finding an experienced queen to help deliver the kitten, since two days after leaving the junkyard, Mistoffelees woke up in the middle of the night to excitedly announce that he was having birthing pains. A few hours later, he gave birth to a tiny tortoiseshell queen they named Molly.

"She is simply lovely," Skimble sighed, protectively leaning over Mistoffelees as he cradled their daughter.

"Of course she is!" Mistoffelees beamed, amused whenever Skimble hissed or swiped at any passing humans who got too close because they wanted to pet the 'momma cat and her cute little baby'. "She has your ears."

"And your nose, I'd say."

"And your… punctuality."

"And your irrepressible sense of mischief, I'm sure."

Mistoffelees laughed and pillowed his head against Skimble's shoulder, rubbing Molly's head as she yawned and snuggled back into her parent's chest fur.

It was little surprise that Molly slept best while at the train station, with the hustle of humans and the sound of train whistles in the background, safe between her parents.

The End