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Gifts	By : AnDesha Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Alice in Wonderland Views: 3459 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on the Alice in Wonderland book series.

Chapter List
- 1-Gifts
- 1
Its been a long time. I am sorry to my fans, but I am having trouble with the flow of either AiW story. I am also working on a new original character, which is taking up my energy.

This is based on a two page comic my artist did a while ago called Unbirthday Present.

Page 1: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/9539683/?qo=125&q=by%3Arowen-silver&qh=sort%3Ati
me+-in%3Ascraps

Page 2: http://www.deviantart.com/view/9539844/?qo=124&q=by%3Arowen-silver&qh=sort%3Atime+-i
n%3Ascraps

Doesn't belong to me. Blah blah blah.

_-*-_

The sounds of a bell played around the trees, disguising itself as birdsong. It put creatures on edge, and caused to them to be wary and skiddish without knowing why. They made mistakes and focused their defense on the wrong things.

That was why the Cheshire Cat loved his bell. Oh, he could hunt just fine without it, his looks and particular brand of stealth inspiring fear and hatred all their own, but the bell added that final little push, making inhabitants of Wonderland think him a demon, or worse.

The only creature who didn’t seem frightened by the chiming of his bell was the Mad Hatter. In deed, it was the Hatter who had given him the one he was currently wearing. It was larger than the last and had decorative etching on it that added an extra air of unease to its sound. How the trapped man had come by it was a total mystery to the Cat, but he was not one to pry.

The sound of baby things playing below him brought him out of his reverie. They appeared to be some sort of rabbit concoction. The Cat smiled, saving his full grin for creatures that could appreciate it. This was going to be a fine snack, and the rabbit fur looked very soft.

He descended on silent claws, defying gravity as he stalked straight down the tree he was resting in. The three young rabbits never had a chance, too young to know that the ever-increasing chiming was a sound of danger.

He fought his urge to just tear into them and revel in the slick feel of blood and young tissue. As much fun as it would be, it would ruin their pelts, and the Cat wanted to bring a gift to his Hatter in exchange for the lovely bell. And so, with due diligence, he separated the hides from the bodies and left them over a branch near him to dry while he ate.

_-*-_

The Hatter was engrossed in the tea before him. It was the same murky substance he had been drinking forever. Nothing had changed. He blew slightly on the surface, sending smoke skittering around it in a spiral fashion, bringing the tea with it and creating a small whirlpool. He watched for a second before tapping some ash into the tea and watching it move around.

A morbid curiosity filled him then, and before he could think about it, he took a large sip of tea. He made a face. He loved his cigarettes and loved his tea, but apparently not together.

An increase in the chink-chink-chink that was now the March Hare's sole form of expression brought the Hatter’s attention to the fact that something was coming. Probably the Cheshire Cat. (Hare never
let on that his bitch of a cousin was on her way until she actually arrived.)

When the melodic (to his ears) twinkling of the bell became noticeable, he stood and cleared the table in front of him of any thing that could spill or break. The Cat tended to wreak havoc when
he visited, and while the feeling of sharp porcelain against his skin only enhanced their activities, he hated tea stains.

He had just finished clearing the table and had sat down in his favorite chair when the March Hare, seated right next to him, let out and ear-piercing shriek. The Hatter looked over, eyes hidden by the brim of his hat.

The Cheshire Cat was practically wrapped around the March Hare. One arm was wrapped around the Hare’s shoulder, toying with the buttons on his shirt. The other was holding a pelt, what looked like rabbit, out in front of him.

The Mad Hatter could just hear what the Cat was whispering in those long, silky ears. "Isn’t it soft? This is the skin of a baby rabbit I caught. I just had to bring it with me to see if your skin was just as soft. "Its softer even than my bed in the palace." He paused to slip a hand into the trembling Hare’s shirt. "You know, I was thinking that I should line my bed with rabbit fur. But then I thought, where will I get enough fur for a whole bed. . .?"

The Hare let out another shriek and wiggled his way out of the Cheshire Cat’s grip. The Cat just laughed and watched him try to hide.

The Mad Hatter observed all this with half an eye, devoting the rest of his attention to the cigarette smoke wafting towards the sky.

The Cat tired of his play and hopped up on the table, seating himself before the Hatter. "I brought you a gift." he said, thrusting three rabbit pelts out before him.

The Hatter took off his gloves, storing them in some inside pocket before grabbing the pelts. The Cat watched in fascination as the Hatter studied his gift.

The Hatter ran his fingers through the short fur, creating patterns on the light and dark of it. His touch was gentle and purposeful, and making the Cheshire cat squirm. Finished with his visual exploration, he picked up the pelt, running it gently over his cheek and moaning softly at the feel of it.

The Cat licked his lips and squirmed in his place. He wanted the Hatter to touch him like that, but he knew if he just ripped the fur out of his hands and pounced on him, the Hatter would send him off. So he kept still, well, as still as he could, with only little, aborted movements to show his impatience.

By now, the Hatter had undone the top two buttons on his shirt and was rubbing the fur on his neck. The cat’s eyes were glued to the dichotomy of dark fur and alabaster skin. His whole being itched the run his nails down that smooth column and add red to the mix.

The Hatter was quite far from being lost in his own world, and while the fur felt fantastic, he was merely using it to incite the Cat’s passion. He was watching the feline from under heavy eyelids, enjoying the unconscious show the Cat was putting on. Every muscle was being flexed, and the supple leather of his court pants hid nothing.

The Hatter laughed to himself and undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt and traced the path with the fur. Slow, circular motions pushed his shirt open and brought the pelt to rub over sensitive nipples. He arched his back, hissing at the contact.

His other hand, which had been lightly resting on the arm rest, allowing his cigarette to burn to the filter, flicked away the used cancer stick, and undid the tie on his pants. The Cat licked his lips
as the Hatter’s rapidly hardening cock was freed.

The hand holding the rabbit fur moved slowly down the Hatter’s torso, hitting sensitive spots and making the normally stoic man squirm in his seat. When he got down to his hips, he wasted no further time and wrapped it around his cock.

Before he could stop himself, the Cheshire Cat lunged forward, tearing away the fur and replacing it with his own hand. The Hatter started, surprised at the violent action, and then sank down into his chair. No matter how good his own hand felt, someone else’s always felt better.

By this time, the Cat was impatient and hard. He let go of the Hatter long enough to work on getting his own clothes off. The Hatter just sat there, smiling at his lover’s frustration until the Cat pinned fuchsia orbs on him.

"Take off those wretched garments and get on the table before I do it for you."

The Hatter chuckled at this, but stood and carefully removed his clothes. The last time the cat had decided to help, he had ended up with only the vest and jacket of his suit until the cat brought him another one.

Once his clothes were carefully folded with his hat on top, he crawled up onto the table to join his writhing cat. The Hatter had it in his mind to tease the Cat a little longer when something hard and cold bumped his knee.

He looked down and saw the butter dish resting there and looked questioningly up at his cat. Cheshire lifted himself up on his elbows from his position on his back. His tail was flicking wildly with restrained annoyance. "I know that look and I don’t want to play anymore. Fuck me now." he laid back down and wiggled his hips slightly.

The Hatter grinned. "Who am I to refuse?" He coated himself with the butter, glad it was already warm, and pulled the Cat’s legs over his shoulders. He gave no warning before thrusting forward. The Cat arched and hissed, grabbing at the Hatter’s hips and leaving long trails of blood in his wake.

This set their rhythm, with the Hatter rocking forward into pleasure and back into pain. The creature beneath sent up a cacophony of moans and curses, twining his tail around the arm the Hatter was using to stroke his cat to completion.

The Cheshire Cat cried out his lover’s name as he came, striping himself with white and throwing off the beauty of the delicate pink swirls that adorned him. The Hatter rode out the Cat’s orgasm, barely holding on before losing himself in the now pliant creature before him.

In his bliss, the Cheshire Cat didn’t notice the onslaught of the Hatter’s climax, and thus was terribly surprised when he was scooped up. The Hatter trembled against him, sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of the Cat’s neck. The Cat cried out and clenched against the Hatter, drawing out his orgasm, and causing them both to collapse in a boneless heap.

They slowly regained their senses, with the Cat running his hands through platinum hair, and the Hatter playing with a momentarily still, swirled tail. The Hatter inspected the bite mark he had left, pleased with its size and location. He then moved on to blow in one pink, furry ear.

The Cat giggled, “Happy Un-Birthday.”

_-*-_

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Gifts