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Lions are the kings of the beasts, and Mark is a lion. He is not afraid of this mansion full of people. He’s not insecure because his human abandoned him here in the middle of all these semi-strangers. He’s fine—absolutely the picture of ease and confidence, furry golden ears up, tufted tail relaxed and barely even twitching behind him.
He just really wants some ice cream.
That’s all it is. Not nerves, not the desire to be denned up with the comfort of delicious food, not the annoyance that there are so many people milling about that he can’t even smell his human even though he lives here. He just wants the cool sweetness of ice cream on his raspy lion tongue.
So he strolls over to the kitchen—he does not slink, like a cowardly hyena or something—and just casually pushes through the doors. The staff know him, of course—Sicheng is the best human and he feeds Mark all the best food so he’ll finish growing up to be big and strong. Mark’s basically grown up already, but Sicheng insists that young men can grow into their early twenties and his lion will only have the best.
Sicheng is the pastor’s son and Mark is supposed to be the visual representation of the Lion of Judah or Aslan or something about lying down with a lamb but Mark really doesn’t care about all that, he just wants to lie down with Sicheng and Sicheng is definitely not a lamb.
It’s Mark that feels rather young and silly next to his human, several years older and a few centimeters taller and very proper, especially with Mark. Hybrids are raised to expect that their human custodians—no one likes to use the word master as if the hybrid has no say over their own lives and the relationship—often adopt hybrids as companions in a physical sense as well as a mental one. And lions are very social cats so Mark loves all the cuddling he gets when he and Sicheng watch movies together, but Sicheng is very handsome and Mark is very attached to his human. He’d be happy to sweeten their relationship, but while Sicheng seems to genuinely care for Mark, he hasn’t made any moves to that effect.
So Mark has to settle for the sweetness of ice cream, bowing and smiling at the staff who stack several scoops of vanilla creaminess into a crunchy cone for him. And he should probably take it back out and be an outgoing, magnanimous representation of his human’s religious upbringing, but he’s afraid to drip ice cream on his nice suit in front of everyone. So instead he takes the cone and wanders, licking at the cold sweetness as he prowls the hallways of the mansion he’s lived in for months and still feels lost in much of the time.
Lions are not easily alarmed, so it’s just discretion that leads Mark to duck into a side room when he hears voices approaching. He doesn’t want to have to answer questions about why Sicheng’s lion is wandering around upstairs instead of socializing with the guests. Sicheng’s family had paid a lot of money for him—sorry, donated generously to the hybrid rescue fund and the wildlife reserves in Africa— so of course they expect their regal investment to be on display, looking all righteous at their son’s side. But Sicheng isn’t out there with the crowd and Mark is tired of looking righteous by himself. He likes looking good for Sicheng, making Sicheng look good in front of others, but without Sicheng, Mark would rather be in his Simba pajamas, curled up in his room.
Except it’s not his own room he’s ducked into, it’s Sicheng’s, and he feels a little silly for following his nose again, tracking his human by scent even though he’d meant to wander aimlessly until he’d finished his frozen treat. He’s not allowed in Sicheng’s room if you ask Sicheng’s parents but Sicheng brings Mark in here sometimes anyway because Mark is his lion and they can do what they want. So Mark doesn’t feel out of place hunkering down near the pile of stuffed toys at the base of his human’s bed. Most of the toys are lions, anyway, having been gifted to the pastor’s son over the years. Mark feels right at home among his plush pride.
He does not startle when the door clicks open. It’s just the light going on above his sensitive eyes that makes him wince.
“Mark?” his human’s voice calls. Not angry—Sicheng is rarely angry and almost never with Mark—but maybe a little concerned.
“Hi,” Mark answers, the word a little distorted by the ice cream he’s just swiped with his tongue.
Sicheng smiles at him, that soft look-how-cute-my-lion-is smile that Mark feels a little silly for liking so much. “Aww, hiding in here with ice cream? Were you overwhelmed or just bored?”
“You abandoned me,” Mark accuses. “And all your parents’ most boring friends wanted to coo at me and pet me. It’s creepy.”
“You like when I coo at you and pet you,” Sicheng points out, crouching to sit beside Mark and the pile of plushies.
“You’re my human,” Mark says with half a shrug and another lick of his ice cream.
“I am,” Sicheng agrees. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone so long. My mother needed my help and then I got stuck talking to a deacon. But I thought I saw you chatting with Jongdae?”
“I was for a little while,” Mark says after swallowing the last of his ice cream. He likes the leopard hybrid and his cat-eyed human. “But they didn’t stay very long and as soon as they left, the weird old people descended.”
Sicheng laughs at Mark’s curled lip. “I’m sorry, baby lion. Let me make it up to you?”
Mark’s tail twitches in interest. “How? I already ate all the ice cream.”
The human’s smile is soft again. “You have to close your eyes.”
Mark smiles, too, amused by his human. Had he hidden something in his room for Mark? Perhaps it was behind the pile of stuffed toys. So Mark closes his eyes, inhaling happily as his human’s scent gets stronger. He loves that pleasant clean smell. Sicheng smells so good all the time and he’s so pretty and of course all the guests had wanted to talk to the pastor’s pretty son.
His jealousy evaporates into shock when he feels the press of soft warmth against his lips. He freezes and immediately Sicheng is pulling back, his heat and scent swirling away with a whispered apology.
Mark’s eyes pop open to focus on his human’s regretful face. “Please kiss me,” he blurts.
“Shh, baby, I’m sorry, we don’t have to. I should have asked, not assumed you would because you’re my hybrid, I don’t own you and—”
But Mark has waited so long for his human to be interested in him like this. He is not letting his momentary surprise deny him a proper taste of Sicheng’s charms. So he reaches out to grab his human and pull him back towards himself—perhaps a bit too enthusiastically since Sicheng ends up sprawled on top of Mark, both of them sinking into the pile of plushies.
They’re both laughing as the dislodged toys tumble down around them but Sicheng’s pressed so tight against Mark and it’s different, so different from their usual playful cuddling and Mark’s laughter trails off as he finds himself staring at his human’s lips.
Sicheng’s staring at Mark, too, and his expression is thrillingly intense. “Can I kiss you, Mark?”
“Yes,” Mark breathes.
Then his breath hitches, filling his head with Sicheng’s warm, safe scent as his human’s lips once again collide with his own. Oh, it feels so nice and Mark responds eagerly, heart kicking behind his ribs at the excitement of finally experiencing what he’d been dreaming about since he’d first been brought to the mansion and laid his eyes on the pastor’s son.
Mark can’t hold back a happy, satisfied sigh, cheeks heating at how soft and silly he sounds but then Sicheng’s licking into his mouth and that feels so amazing Mark’s entire world narrows to the sensation of the human’s smooth tongue sliding against his own. Sicheng tastes sweeter than all the ice cream in the world and Mark can’t quite swallow a groan as the human pulls away with a final nibble to Mark’s bottom lip.
For a moment all Mark can do is pant, needing air as much as if he’d just charged across the entire savanna. Sicheng’s panting, too, lying beside Mark amid the plushies, one arm thrown over his face. Mark can’t resist pressing back up against him, tugging that arm out of the way so he can see his pretty human properly.
But Sicheng groans, screwing up his face so he doesn’t have to look back at Mark and suddenly Mark wants to burrow into the pile of plush toys so that no one can tell which dumb lion disappointed the human by being terrible to kiss.
“Sorry,” Mark mutters, releasing Sicheng and scooting away. “I never—I don’t know how—I’m sorry it wasn’t good.” He scoops up an armful of the tumbled plushies, holding their embroidered faces up in front of his own.
“Why are you hiding?” Sicheng asks, tugging at the toys obscuring Mark’s shame. The human works one out of the way enough to witness the first of the tears Mark can’t suppress and suddenly he’s pulled tight against the human again, held to Sicheng’s chest.
“I’m sorry, baby, don’t cry. Of course it was good—you’re my baby lion. I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you’re so cute and your eagerness was almost too much, baby, I wasn’t sure I could control myself. You’re just so appealing.”
“Sicheng,” Mark murmurs, pressing closer.
“Mark. My baby lion. I never want to make you uncomfortable, you shouldn’t feel obligated to go along with things and I’m sorry if you felt pressured or rejected—I just. I really like you. Not just because you’re my hybrid, but because you’re Mark.”
“So… you want to kiss me because you like me? Not because I’m supposed to…” Mark blushes all the way up to his rounded lion ears.
“I would never expect you to do anything you weren’t excited about. But I do want to kiss you all the time. You’re so cute. My little Markie baby lion.”
Mark is very excited to kiss Sicheng again so he does, lifting his face from Sicheng’s chest to press his mouth against the human’s again. And Sicheng hums happily against Mark’s smile, letting himself be pushed down among the plushies again.
They’ve been away from the party too long already so Mark swallows a whine of disappointment when Sicheng pushes him gently away.
“Come on, pretty baby lion. We’d better get some more ice cream on the way back downstairs—our lips are all puffy from all that kissing.”
“I like ice cream,” Mark agrees, letting Sicheng tug him to his feet and straighten his clothes. “And kissing.”
“Me, too,” Sicheng smiles, that soft adoring smile that Mark loves. “Ice cream now, more kissing later, okay?”
“Okay.” Mark takes Sicheng’s offered hand and allows himself to be led back to the party, tufted tail flicking happily. He’ll proudly tolerate all the boring old weirdos in the world if he has his sweet and gentle human by his side.