deathoftheauthor | decadia ic inbox

fuck, impeccable timing. you're getting good at this already and welllllllllll, i already said i can't sleep. you're obviously not busy. sooooo. we could watch a movie? talk about boys? paint each others nails? bitch about the drama we saw at the ball?? or i can let you bite me and we can see where the evening takes us whatever appeals more :3

Does :3 mean something different from :)?
Wait a moment... Is it because you're a cat? Is that your feline smile?

Regardless, yes. We should meet, whatever we end up doing to fill our time. The ball was absurd, and it most certainly did not get me "in the mood," as they say. But I would be very pleased to see your :3 again. Did I do that properly?

goddddddddddddddddd, louis, you are so fucking cute sometimes who cares if you're doing it right, keep doing what you're doing, it's driving me crazy

[ And then, a mere handful of moments later, a polite little knock on Louis' door. ]

ding dong :3

( Louis doesn't have time to wonder whether the Cat is being condescending— or rather, whether he cares, when he's so endearing about it. Once again, if he were a human (or another vampire) and not a cat, Louis might feel differently about it, but he suspects that most cats think they're just a little better than everyone else anyway.

Louis nearly types "I'll be right there" before he realizes what he's doing and hastens to the door. )

Good evening. ( A soft little smile. ) Won't you please come in?

Why, thank you~

[ He purrs, stepping inside. Tonight he's dressed in a plain leather jacket over a velvety little slip dress that looks more like a nightgown than clothes one should be wearing outside, but he's paired it with semi-opaque stockings and big combat boots to make it look a little more appropriate. His hair is slicked back into neat little finger waves — like it had been at the ball, but without the pearls — and curls delicately around his ears, where the pearl earring he'd also worn at the ball still hangs from the lobe of his left one. Evidently, even though the ball itself was a bit of a bust, he's at least obtained a few staples he found playing dress up. ]

Mm, that makes me think. If I ever invite you over to my place, do I have to make some grand announcement so you can cross the threshold? Or is intention enough to let you inside? I never know which movies have it right.

That's an interesting ensemble...

( Though the Cat's outfit is not at all to Louis' taste, he cannot deny that he makes it work, enough that Louis can almost appreciate the chaotic intentionality of it. And so he ends up sounding rather like a supportive but vaguely bewildered uncle when he comments upon it, his eyes moving up and down the Cat's form to take in the whole of his presentation this evening with a curiosity that is not lewd, but certainly appreciative.

Louis himself is dressed more casually than the last time the Cat met up with him, in a soft black cotton tee that shows off his slender arms in a way that makes him look nearly modern. He had not expected company, and so had dressed for comfort. )

But no, no, I have no such limitations... I can enter any building I please, regardless of who might wish to keep me out. But I always appreciate a proper invitation, if you would like me to pay you a visit some night.

Ahhh, so the stories are all bullshit then? You're welcome in my Kingdom any time, the door is basically always open since I don't often wear pajamas. You're pretty lucky I didn't just show up here naked.

[ The Cat King says, stalking his way inside like a panther, shedding the jacket to reveal the low back of the dress and the little spaghetti straps keeping the fabric on his shoulders. He dumps it unceremoniously onto whatever piece of furniture is closest, and turns to survey Louis with a knowing smile. He caught the inflection in his voice, after all. ]

I know people who look like I do don't wear dresses much in 1985, but give it forty years or so, and you'll be surprised what strides fashion will take.

( The sofa seems like a charged place to sit, considering what happened between them the first time the Cat visited him, but there is only one armchair, and the bed is even more drenched in symbolism. Not that Louis has any illusions that the night will remain chaste— and it's best for everyone if it doesn't, right? Of course. So he gestures for the Cat to follow him to more or less exactly where they first sat, with himself against the arm of the couch, and the Cat wherever he pleases. )

Did I sound so judgmental?

( Yes, Louis, you did! At least he's sorry about it. But not sorry enough not to tease. )

Surely you aren't saying you would stoop to wearing something commonplace...

Mmm, a little. But I'm not offended.

[ The Cat, being a Cat, glances at Louis' little gesture and clearly understands it, and then does the complete opposite. He parks his ass instead on the coffee table directly in front of Louis, crossing his legs as he leans back, supported by his arms. ]

And I'm not saying this is commonplace where I come from, it's definitely still considered weird that I walk around looking like a man while wearing skirts and dresses, but I like the way they feel just as much as I enjoy something more stereotypically masculine.

[ He tilts his head, however, clearly intrigued. ]

So, is this you telling me you're not into femininity?

( Louis lets out a longsuffering but ultimately inconsequential sigh as the Cat seats himself nonchalantly on the polished surface of Louis' coffee table. Well. Someone probably polished it once. Louis certainly hasn't, and probably won't bother to dust the Cat's ass prints off of it after this visit, either. )

... I don't know.

( Louis shrugs, considering the question as he folds his long limbs into the nearest armchair. This all feels rather philosophically modern, and once he would have been too embarrassed and self-conscious to so much as think about having a conversation like this about himself. )

I suppose cats have no reason to care what human beings consider feminine or masculine, do they? You look captivating and comfortable— what more could you want? As for myself... all things are beautiful to a vampire's eyes, and all living beings wondrous to behold. I have no preference when it comes to victims; I would never choose someone because I favored their appearance, nor would I spare them for that reason. And as to my own tastes... of course some of the things that were considered to be masculine when I was young are now seen as rather effeminate: long hair, jewelry, heeled boots, those sorts of things?

( A brief, tiny hint of a smile. )

I am no great lover of what mortal men in the 1980s would consider to be "macho." ( He says the word wth all the Creole disdain that he can muster. ) But I do have a preference for men.

[ The Cat smirks through Louis' explanation, reasoning that he's got a good point when it comes to his victims. That would be like refusing a steak because the cow in question just so happened to enjoy the grass on the left side of the barn rather than the right. Foolish, a waste of time. But they're not talking about food, now, are they? The Cat had asked, in a roundabout way, what Louis' preference was in partners — and he already knows he has a boyfriend, so he's got a good idea, but he's always curious about the specifics. Especially with a creature like Louis, where all his thoughts seem so complex and well thought out and yet so easily pondered and expanded and explored. ]

Mmhm, that makes sense.

[ Honestly he hadn't expected any different, but he also wonders if the preference comes from experience, or something else. Has Louis ever felt the touch of a woman!!!!!!!! ]

And, for the record, cats don't have a preference, no... but that isn't why I don't. I have human cognisance they don't. I've lived in the human world in a way most cats haven't. I've seen trends change and people decide what's good and bad, what's in and out, what's for girls and what's for boys... I just don't care.

[ He dusts one hand over the hem of his dress, idly. ]

But at least I know not to turn up here next time with a pair of tits or anything. [ He mimes wiping sweat from his brow, as if he'd been considering it. ] Phew.

( Louis feels the sensation of what would be a blush creep up his neck and across his cheeks at the suggestion. )

Ah— I'm certain that you would wear them well...

( God. What a thing to say. He rubs at his face a little, as though that might clear the blush no one can see. He wonders whether he would feel something in that scenario, whether his natural curiosity and affection for the Cat might blossom into something more. The idea, he finds, is not offputting. Vaguely intriguing. Thank goodness he has no particular attachment to any labels for his own orientation, or this might force Louis to reevaluate some things.

He clears his throat. )

I hope that I did not offend by presuming it had to do with your nature rather than your own individual preference. It is common for my kind to lose interest in various human concerns after our turning... for us to become more open-minded as we change. At least in some regards.

[ That. Is not the reaction of a man who has a sole preference for men, which lends more credit to the Cat's idea that Louis' preference might simply come from that being all he really knows. He's not about to insult him by insinuating that, but there's the growing seed of something starting to take root in the Cat's mind. He crosses his legs, recrosses them, tilting his head in thought. ]

Don't worry about it. I'm not offended by people not knowing any better. And it's hard to know anything about a mysterious creature like me.

[ Except everything Louis saw in his head, of course. The fact he's seen Edwin. That still lingers in the back of the Cat's mind when he looks at the other man. Does he see him differently, knowing there's someone he carries around in his heart like that? ]

So, does that mean vampire kind in your world stop thinking in binaries and start seeing the fluidity of the world? Or do you just stop caring what movies and books were rated the highest and read whatever you want? [ He asks, mostly joking, but his grin turns sharp as he settles in for his next question. ] Because I've gathered you'd still wanna bite me if I looked more feminine, but I'm curious if you'd still want to get to know me. At my core I'm neither male nor female, I just exist in whatever shape I want to given the day. Or, at least, that's how I normally operate when I have all my power.

( Louis makes a face, uncertain and vaguely uncomfortable, because of course he doesn't consider himself someone who wouldn't want to get to know someone just because they present themselves in a certain way... How many true friends has he had in his two centuries of life, of any gender? He could count them on one hand, before the City. Even now, hardly any. )

I would have found you fascinating in any form.

( That much is true, at least. Would he have been so willingly seduced? That... he can't know. But he suspects that the answer is no. )

But this place complicates matters, doesn't it? It isn't as though we've come here to make friends.

And yet, here we are.

[ The Cat grins, because of all the things he could call them, friends is probably the closest one that won't make it seem seedy. After all, he could just as happily hang out with Louis and not fuck him as he could the opposite..... but, does Louis know that? He had kind of come here with feeding him in mind, which he's still more than willing to do, but that's not necessarily the only reason he's here. ]

Maybe some day we can test that theory. See if I taste different in a different form. I could be a nice pretty blonde for you. We could have attended the ball together in each other's arms. Might've been more entertaining to play a part like that.

( Though he isn't sure how much the Cat King is teasing him in this moment, Louis has to admit that the idea is at least somewhat appealing. It certainly sounds better than how the ball had been in reality; perhaps if he had had the Cat King for company, he would have felt less irritable and out of place. Would he have agreed to be Louis' date if he'd asked? Louis hadn't considered it at the time, but perhaps next time... )

Certainly more entertaining than what I got up to.

( He leans back in his seat, huffing with mild annoyance at the memory of it. But his expression softens into one of curiosity as he asks: )

Do you think that you could do that? Purposefully, I mean. You can change every part of yourself at will, why not the blood? Though... ( God, what is he saying? Ridiculous. ) I suppose you would require more reference as to your own natural flavor.

Mmm, it's more... I need as much information as possible when I shift, right? If I don't get a good look at someone, I can only shift into what I've seen. So, I can look like a photo, but I might get the back of the head wrong, or the shape of the legs, or the hands. The blood, if I don't know it's different, would probably be the same as it is when it's just me, unless I'd already tasted or sensed a difference somehow.

[ He slips into quiet consideration for a moment, then shrugs. ]

At least that's how I think it works. Cat Kings aren't exactly the most interlocked bunch. We don't really talk amongst Kingdoms, not about our existence at least, and the whole forgetting past lives thing makes it kind of difficult to be a hundred percent sure about things like that.

[ He grins, then nudges Louis' long legs with the toe of his boot. ]

Besides, I already know what my own blood tastes like. I've died before, remember?

( Louis does his best to ignore that small pang of distress that he feels again at the reminder of the Cat's death. If he can talk so casually about it— and he has every right to do so, of course— why should Louis be so bothered by it? But he is, nevertheless, in a way that makes him feel strangely helpless. It's an illogical feeling; he can't change the past, and Louis did not even know him then. And yet... and yet. )

Of course I remember.

( He returns that nudge with one stockinged foot to the Cat's calf, perhaps more deliberate than flirtatious, but he's doing his best. )

You would probably have to be some sort of connossieur to truly tell a difference. It isn't quite like wine tasting, with subtle notes of this or that. The difference is in the individual... their memories, their thoughts, their mood. ( A raising of one eyebrow. ) I might recognize you by your blood even if you looked completely different.

... Fuck.

[ The Cat King raises a hand to his face, sharp fingers wiping confidently at his eyes, further smudging the eyeliner already effortlessly smudged there, as he visibly tries to withstand some sort of emotional onslaught brought on by Louis' words. ]

That shouldn't make me as hot as it does.

[ The fact of the matter is that the idea of anyone knowing him in any way, let alone such an intimate one, is appealing to him. Shrouded in the mystery that comes with the territory of being a shapeshifting cat, he's rarely had the opportunity for anyone to get to know him - and even when he's desperately wanted them to, his fickle nature has got in the way instead. What Louis is talking about isn't the same, but it's close; it's still some connection that is undeniably his, something that will define who he is, even if he can't. And, obviously it's making him think of the pleasure of being bitten again, too. ]

It makes me want to test your theory, even if I'm pretty sure you're right. Even in a perfect copy, I'm still the same Cat beneath. I can't fake memories or feelings or anything like that. You'd still see whatever you saw in my blood the first time you drank it.

[ Edwin, his mind unhelpfully reminds him. He'd still see Edwin. ]

( The Cat's reaction takes Louis by surprise; he had been speaking pragmatically, mostly, though of course all talk of blood will pique a vampire's thirst. But he was not being intentionally seductive or planting any deliberate ideas in the other man's head, so when the idea of it seems to wash over the Cat like something physical, Louis watches with sharp, bright-eyed interest. His tongue works at the flat white back of his fang for a moment, lips pressed together in a way that only makes him look more thirsty. )

I saw many things.

( Which sounds far more opaque than he means for it to. He lets out a slight breath, wondering if being unhelpful and avoiding straightforward answers to questions is actually a preternatural gift that no vampire has named yet. The Vague Gift, he could call it. )

Of all the creatures I have fed upon in my long life, you must be the eldest. And I do not make a habit of feeding on magical creatures. This, too, makes you singular among my meals.

( And the fact that he'd survived, of course. Not many can say that. )

Now you're really making me feel special. Like a nice, juicy steak.

[ He's such a little freak for saying that in such a sultry way, but he feels an odd prickle of dirty excitement at the thought of Louis savouring the taste of him and longing after him like a man might reminisce over a hearty meal.

He doesn't bother to bring up the fact that being singular amongst anything is what's really getting him hot, because if Louis saw many things in his blood, like Edwin and the Cat's more surface desires, it stands to reason that he might at least know the shape of the hunger in the Cat's soul, even if he doesn't know it's entirety. So he must know, then, that this kind of focused attention dedicated solely to him, when the Cat doesn't really have an altogether firm grasp of who he even is, is electrifying.

He hums, then hisses a breath through his teeth. ]

Fuck, now I'm really regretting not dragging you to that stupid ball with me. We could have found a nice dark corner for you to get a taste of me in. I looked sooo good, too. But I would've looked even better with a little red staining my collar.

( Louis swallows, his throat making a nearly silent sound that seems impossibly loud in the little shared space. He's so used to vampiric company, to the sharper senses of his maker and Armand, that he feels as though the Cat can somehow hear the blood moving in his veins, the subtle speeding up of his heartbeat that signals his own budding interest, his growing arousal. But then, the Cat is a fellow predator, isn't he? Perhaps he can hear these things as well as Louis can. Something stirs hot and hungry in the pit of Louis's stomach at the thought. )

Shameless...

( It doesn't sound very much like an admonishment when Louis says it. His fingers move restlessly against the arm of the chair before he makes himself be still again. )

Of course you would force me to remember it all night, each time I looked at you.

[ The Cat has spoken about Louis biting his neck without even thinking about it, but now that the thought is there in his mind, he can't stop touching it, like a bruise only just starting to blush into colour. He can feel a subtle shift in the air between them, everything becoming sharper and in more focus while the world around them slips into a dark vignette. He wants to climb into Louis' lap and feel his fangs again. He wants to kiss him, properly this time, out of desire rather than curiosity. He wants to know what it feels like to be prey.

He tilts his head, delicate claws against his pulse point as he hums consideringly. ]

Mmm, every time I turned my neck, letting out a little— [ He draws in a sharp breath, demonstrating a little jolt as though he just touched something very hot. ] —gasp of every time it brushes against the collar of my shirt. Not sure if I'm feeling pain or pleasure...

[ The points of his other claws slide down his body, over his tummy and then over his thighs — down and then back up — points catching in the fabric almost teasingly as he continues to smile, more than a little smug. ]

( Louis watches the movement of the Cat's hand on his own body, his fangs itching behind his lips, his heart thudding hard in his chest and wrists and thighs. There's the familiar needy, faintly painful pull of thirst at his veins that reminds him he hasn't fed himself properly tonight— and that he hasn't truly had a drink since the Cat's first visit, and no bottle had compared to the hot, distinctly inhuman ambrosia of his blood.

I would heal you, he wants to protest; he is a monster, but he is also a gentleman. But that isn't part of the game, he reminds himself, stopping before he ruins the moment by not playing along correctly. Besides, it is a lovely little vision to imagine, and it thrills him in a quiet, selfish way to think that he could be responsible for anything like that. )

A more appealing sight than anything else at that ridiculous ball. Would you have left early with me if I sighed about it? Or made an attempt to convince me to stay?

Why not both?

[ The Cat asks simply, because his keen eyes — though not capable of the finite attention to detail that a vampire's might be — can pick up on that steady pulse of tension in Louis' body as he watches the Cat toy with him. To some, this level of obvious seduction comes off rather eye-roll worthy instead of being genuinely alluring, but Louis is still looking at him like every drag of the Cat's claws against fabric and skin is stoking flames, to the point where the Cat wonders again about how Louis might fare simply watching, observing, thirsting. ]

I could convince you to stay a little longer with a taste, just enough to coat your tongue and keep you sated while I run around and have fun, but I can't help but catch your eyes over the shoulder of every person I talk to...

[ It's clear the Cat has either had one too many romantic fantasies like this, or he's watched one too many movies where this kind of cliché crops up, because even as he talks about it he can start to feel arousal prickling at his skin. He raises an elegant foot, sliding the rise of it along the long line of one of Louis' legs. ]

And be tempted to leave early with you when I see the hunger in your eyes reach a pitch I just can't ignore anymore.

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