This is Louis. Good evening. Or good day, if you're attempting to reach me during my scheduled rest. Please leave a message, and I will get back to you once I've regained consciousness.
( 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.
[ 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.
[ 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?
[ 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.
( That touch makes him shiver, and he swears that he can feel the heat of the Cat's body even through all the layers separating them. His nails scrape audibly on the upholstery, and his body tenses with desire, humming like a plucked string on a harp left to vibrate in the open air. It's disorienting not knowing whether this instinct is thirst or arousal or both, having the urge to take someone into his arms for the purposes of something other than killing but still tasting blood in the end...
He does not know how to respond, what one is meant to do when a handsome man has his foot halfway up one's calf; he can feel himself approaching that place again where he overthinks everything, instinct becoming too much and too dangerous and desire too tangled up with death. And then there is the plain fact that he rather likes the Cat, whatever that means in a place like this, and the idea of watching him across a room is not so far from his reality. )
I would miss your company as much as your blood, watching you.
( He looks a little shy as he says it, knowing that it isn't quite in the spirit of things, too genuine to match the Cat's flirtation. But he means it. )
Forgive me. I was just— overcome with how much you've meant to me here.
[ Arousal is quickly making the Cat's head feel hazy and warm, his thoughts lingering around the fantasy spinning between them of being connected to Louis in some invisible way only they know about, like a partner being sent off into the crowd wearing something their lover gave to them, or put in them, knowing that he'll always come back to where he started. He thinks of that little possessive thrill he'd felt kissing Simon before the ball, the enjoyment he'd felt seeing Rowan looking put together and confident, and the way he'd stifled both of those feelings down into the dark depths of himself when he'd realised what he was feeling. Possessiveness has no place in a world like this.
But then Louis' comment brings the focus back to a point of precision, and the Cat's mouth falls slightly open, with his foot pressing against the inside of Louis' knee. It catches him completely off guard, because how could it not? Being a meaningful influence to someone like Louis, who must surely pick his company carefully, who seems to not be the type to waste his time on those he doesn't care for... It's flattering, to say the least. It's incredibly exciting, too.
The Cat exhales a little breath that isn't quite a laugh but isn't a sigh either, the high planes of his cheeks diffusing with flushed colour as he tilts his head slightly, eyes never leaving Louis. ]
That's a very sweet way of saying you'd miss me too much to let me go. You mean a lot to me too. [ He says, voice quiet but purr loud. Then, he holds out a hand to Louis. ] I want to be closer to you. Do you wanna take me to bed?
( Watching that flush of color rise to the Cat's cheeks is like watching a perfect red rose blossom and unfurl before his eyes. To a vampire's vision, yes, all things and all creatures are beautiful, but there is a certain personal pleasure in knowing that he had a hand in this particular event, a warmth that glows in his chest like winter coals. And, of course, he is just glad that he did not say too much, too easily, and that the Cat did not laugh.
The offer, then, is both forward and achingly romantic. How can Louis do anything but rise to his feet and take that warm hand in his own and nod yes? )
I do.
( His own cheeks are humming, though he's sure that he's too pale for it to show; if he were a mortal man, or freshly-fed (and perhaps soon he will be the latter, at least) then he would like as not be blushing like a schoolboy. He wants to press his hand gently against the Cat's throat and feel the rumble of that purr against his palm, or pull him close and let it vibrate against him. But for the moment, he is every bit the gentleman that he appears to be, and lets the press of their hands be the only point of contact between them. )
[ This feels horribly romantic, and even though fear threatens to pierce through the warmth of his heart and the brimming arousal in his blood at the realisation, the way Louis looks at him as if he is the only thing that matters in this strange little world they've found themselves in does a wonderful job of calming that instinctive fear back down to something quiet — relegated to some dark, barely recognisable place at the back of his mind to be worried about later.
Later, when there isn't a chilled hand in his own, and he isn't smiling happily down at a handsome creature as he swiftly pulls them both to their feet. ]
Lead the way, then. I'm in your care.
[ Okay so perhaps he's playing up the romance novel aspect of it all, but his mind is full of thoughts of balls and jealous lovers and possessive bedroom scenes where the love interest makes the main character certain beyond a doubt who he/she belongs to. Who can blame him for having a little fun with it? He can't see Louis minding, not with the way the Cat is looking at him, clinging to his hand with both of his own, eyes full of sparkling affection and no small amount of a familiar, eager hunger too. ]
( Louis lets out a soft breath of amusement as he guides them the short distance toward his bed. He's sure that the Cat does not need his care in the slightest, and it has not escaped Louis' awareness that the Cat is probably several orders of magnitude older than he is, and certainly a great deal more experienced in the things that matter here. But he can play the part, at least until clothing starts coming off and he finds himself utterly overwhelmed again. )
Do you want my care, or my fangs in your throat?
( Louis' voice is warm and faintly teasing, but very fond. After all, he is fairly certain— and fairly hopeful— that the Cat will let him drink again, and as cautious and gentle as Louis will try to be with him, "care" hardly seems an appropriate word.
He takes them to the little bed across the room, the covers made but slightly rumpled, as if someone had been curled up there reading or napping and had not thought to smooth them out again. Louis sits first, without letting go of the Cat's hand, pressing the warmth of it between both his own as he turns his back toward the mass of pillows at the headboard. )
Mmm, I would argue both of those options aren't mutually exclusive.
[ The Cat believes he'd have a strong case to make that Louis has already demonstrated to him that he is extremely skilled at caring for him, since his fangs had felt pretty amazing the last time and he'd come out of it on the other side probably harder than he's ever been in his life, and rather than turfing him off his lap or letting him deal with it alone, Louis had been patient and pliant and just as hungry for that part of him, too... but something else about the comment snags in his mind as he follows the vampire toward his seemingly barely used bed.
His throat. He'd mentioned blood on his collar without really thinking about it in any realistic terms, plucking the fantasy from every fetishistic story he's ever heard about Louis' kind, and hadn't considered the reality of the thing. But now, being led to bed by the very real creature from those fantasies, Louis' warning from the first time they met comes slowly back to him.
He keeps it to himself just long enough to watch Louis sink into the cushions, long enough for the Cat to push him back a little more, getting him propped up and comfortable so that the Cat can slide side-saddle into his lap, free hand around his shoulder, while his other lifts their joined ones to his mouth so he can kiss slowly and soothingly at Louis' fingers. From this close he can see so much colour and depth in Louis' eyes, and it's a tough thing to not get lost in the green of them. He inhales and exhales slow, then drags his gaze to his mouth. ]
( Louis lets the Cat climb into his lap and touch him as he pleases, allowing the gentle kisses to his cool hand and settling his free arm lightly at the Cat's waist. It's intoxicating, watching the pink flush of his lips against the pale porcelain white of Louis' hand, how conviningly human he appears (save for his eyes, of course) despite being less human than Louis himself, never having been human at all... It's easy to get lost in it, to feel a strange mixture of relaxation and intense focus, as the world narrows down to the simple sensation of warmth against chilled flesh.
It's only when the Cat dares to ask what he wants that Louis falters, that same vaguely troubled look returning to his face, as though he's been asked something far more complicated. His fingers tense slightly in the Cat's warm, gentle hold, but he does not pull away, only sits quietly, not knowing how to answer. )
How can I not, when you put such ideas in my head?
( He replies softly, finally, with a helplessness to his voice that makes him sound as though he has little say in the matter. )
[ That helplessness coming from a creature with the kind of strength Louis has turns the Cat's blood molten hot with desire. Even though Louis would no doubt feel this pull with anyone warm and willing, the fact that he's saying it to him now – when he knows the Cat, cares for him beyond a simple meal, wants to keep him alive and happy – feels poignant.
And he wants it, too. Even though he shouldn't. Even though it should make his hackles rise and fear turn the haze in his mind to a cloudless sky of clarity, he wants it. And every iota of focus in his body turns toward how he could make that fantasy a reality.
His mouth, however, tells a different story, as he presses Louis' cold fingers to his own cheek, tilting his head into the chill touch, eyes on his mouth. ]
Are you so easy to lead astray? [ He asks, thinking about kissing him, thinking about feeling his fangs in his tongue, his lips, thinking about collars and chains and magical spells meant to restrain but with flex. Testing the boundaries. Giving a little more. ] Or am I just that tempting?
( His thumb moves against the rise of the Cat's cheekbone, his mind cataloguing the differences between this face and that of his beloved, the warmth of living flesh (or the convincing illusion of it, anyway) and the enticing give of it beneath his touch. It is the sort of thing that makes him wonder, with more than a little distrust of his own strength, just how much this being could actually withstand, how much rougher Louis could be with him than he would with a human being. It is one thing with Lestat, who is so strong now that Louis couldn't truly hurt him physically if he tried; with the Cat, there is the intriguing question of magic, of a body that is not a true body... )
It isn't often that I permit myself to be truly tempted.
( It might sound like the sort of thing some cold but handsome lord would say in one of his vaguely embarrassing romance novels, if not for the fact that he looks almost shy about it. )
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no subject
... 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
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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. )
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[ 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.
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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.
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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. ]
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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?
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[ 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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He does not know how to respond, what one is meant to do when a handsome man has his foot halfway up one's calf; he can feel himself approaching that place again where he overthinks everything, instinct becoming too much and too dangerous and desire too tangled up with death. And then there is the plain fact that he rather likes the Cat, whatever that means in a place like this, and the idea of watching him across a room is not so far from his reality. )
I would miss your company as much as your blood, watching you.
( He looks a little shy as he says it, knowing that it isn't quite in the spirit of things, too genuine to match the Cat's flirtation. But he means it. )
Forgive me. I was just— overcome with how much you've meant to me here.
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But then Louis' comment brings the focus back to a point of precision, and the Cat's mouth falls slightly open, with his foot pressing against the inside of Louis' knee. It catches him completely off guard, because how could it not? Being a meaningful influence to someone like Louis, who must surely pick his company carefully, who seems to not be the type to waste his time on those he doesn't care for... It's flattering, to say the least. It's incredibly exciting, too.
The Cat exhales a little breath that isn't quite a laugh but isn't a sigh either, the high planes of his cheeks diffusing with flushed colour as he tilts his head slightly, eyes never leaving Louis. ]
That's a very sweet way of saying you'd miss me too much to let me go. You mean a lot to me too. [ He says, voice quiet but purr loud. Then, he holds out a hand to Louis. ] I want to be closer to you. Do you wanna take me to bed?
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The offer, then, is both forward and achingly romantic. How can Louis do anything but rise to his feet and take that warm hand in his own and nod yes? )
I do.
( His own cheeks are humming, though he's sure that he's too pale for it to show; if he were a mortal man, or freshly-fed (and perhaps soon he will be the latter, at least) then he would like as not be blushing like a schoolboy. He wants to press his hand gently against the Cat's throat and feel the rumble of that purr against his palm, or pull him close and let it vibrate against him. But for the moment, he is every bit the gentleman that he appears to be, and lets the press of their hands be the only point of contact between them. )
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Later, when there isn't a chilled hand in his own, and he isn't smiling happily down at a handsome creature as he swiftly pulls them both to their feet. ]
Lead the way, then. I'm in your care.
[ Okay so perhaps he's playing up the romance novel aspect of it all, but his mind is full of thoughts of balls and jealous lovers and possessive bedroom scenes where the love interest makes the main character certain beyond a doubt who he/she belongs to. Who can blame him for having a little fun with it? He can't see Louis minding, not with the way the Cat is looking at him, clinging to his hand with both of his own, eyes full of sparkling affection and no small amount of a familiar, eager hunger too. ]
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Do you want my care, or my fangs in your throat?
( Louis' voice is warm and faintly teasing, but very fond. After all, he is fairly certain— and fairly hopeful— that the Cat will let him drink again, and as cautious and gentle as Louis will try to be with him, "care" hardly seems an appropriate word.
He takes them to the little bed across the room, the covers made but slightly rumpled, as if someone had been curled up there reading or napping and had not thought to smooth them out again. Louis sits first, without letting go of the Cat's hand, pressing the warmth of it between both his own as he turns his back toward the mass of pillows at the headboard. )
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[ The Cat believes he'd have a strong case to make that Louis has already demonstrated to him that he is extremely skilled at caring for him, since his fangs had felt pretty amazing the last time and he'd come out of it on the other side probably harder than he's ever been in his life, and rather than turfing him off his lap or letting him deal with it alone, Louis had been patient and pliant and just as hungry for that part of him, too... but something else about the comment snags in his mind as he follows the vampire toward his seemingly barely used bed.
His throat. He'd mentioned blood on his collar without really thinking about it in any realistic terms, plucking the fantasy from every fetishistic story he's ever heard about Louis' kind, and hadn't considered the reality of the thing. But now, being led to bed by the very real creature from those fantasies, Louis' warning from the first time they met comes slowly back to him.
He keeps it to himself just long enough to watch Louis sink into the cushions, long enough for the Cat to push him back a little more, getting him propped up and comfortable so that the Cat can slide side-saddle into his lap, free hand around his shoulder, while his other lifts their joined ones to his mouth so he can kiss slowly and soothingly at Louis' fingers. From this close he can see so much colour and depth in Louis' eyes, and it's a tough thing to not get lost in the green of them. He inhales and exhales slow, then drags his gaze to his mouth. ]
Is that what you want? My throat?
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It's only when the Cat dares to ask what he wants that Louis falters, that same vaguely troubled look returning to his face, as though he's been asked something far more complicated. His fingers tense slightly in the Cat's warm, gentle hold, but he does not pull away, only sits quietly, not knowing how to answer. )
How can I not, when you put such ideas in my head?
( He replies softly, finally, with a helplessness to his voice that makes him sound as though he has little say in the matter. )
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And he wants it, too. Even though he shouldn't. Even though it should make his hackles rise and fear turn the haze in his mind to a cloudless sky of clarity, he wants it. And every iota of focus in his body turns toward how he could make that fantasy a reality.
His mouth, however, tells a different story, as he presses Louis' cold fingers to his own cheek, tilting his head into the chill touch, eyes on his mouth. ]
Are you so easy to lead astray? [ He asks, thinking about kissing him, thinking about feeling his fangs in his tongue, his lips, thinking about collars and chains and magical spells meant to restrain but with flex. Testing the boundaries. Giving a little more. ] Or am I just that tempting?
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It isn't often that I permit myself to be truly tempted.
( It might sound like the sort of thing some cold but handsome lord would say in one of his vaguely embarrassing romance novels, if not for the fact that he looks almost shy about it. )
I hope that is answer enough for you?
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