[Katze gives him a moment to recover and wonders what kind of people bring people like Aomine here. He's not perverse, not experienced. He's young in a way that makes Katze think of Daryl and Cal and makes him hurt somewhere that is buried deep inside him by years or drug use and cynicism because you can't afford to have those feelings on Amoi. Not and survive.

And Katze is a survivor. It's good to know his skills aren't out of date, though he wonders at the novelty of an Elite giving blowjobs to mongrels. For free, even.]

Shh. I won't rush you. It's alright.

[He speaks in gentle tones, nuzzles Aomine's cheek again and then he sits up to start to strip him. Underwear and pants all the way off instead of caught on his knees. Katze's deft fingers run up his sides and examine the shirt. A bit bare, but he expects these things from a mongrel.

Katze is a Furniture. If Aomine knew what that was he'd probably be familiar with the gestures. Soothing, like Aomine is a child. Worse, like he's a Pet, and Katze hates that it's his default to treat something that way. Like they are loved and treasured and cared for, because it makes it all the crueler to pull the rug out from under them when the time comes.

Katze takes off his own shoes, and then he's sitting on the bed stroking that oddly colored hair and taking not so covert glances down his companion's body.]

I could leave, too. After...you're done. I don't expect anything.

[He wants to make that clear.]

How're you feeling? Still just drunk? There were quite a few guys at the bar eyefucking you.