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.
[ 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. )
[ A slow smile creeps across the Cat King's features at Louis' answer, so strangely vague, as though he's avoiding an answer and yet somehow saying so much more than a simple yes or no would have afforded. He nods. It's more than enough. The Cat feels treasured and wanted in such great swathes that it's almost breathtaking. He should be used to this – he knows by now what it feels like to be desired – but it feels so strangely different with Louis. It feels as though he sees what Edwin saw, but rather than turning to leave, Louis wants a closer look.
The Cat gasps, overcome with a million desires all fighting for dominance in his chest, but one so much louder than the rest.
He remembers the first time he asked this in Louis' company, and the response he'd gotten as though Louis wasn't quite sure why he would ask for such a thing. He wonders if he'll get the same reaction now, though he can't imagine that he will. ]
( Louis looks surprised again, but not as badly as he had the first time— less like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car and more simply shy. He almost wishes that the Cat would just do it instead of asking, if he wants to so badly. But every step of the way he has asked Louis' permission, forced his active participation and consent... He's grateful for the consideration, grateful to not be manipulated, but part of him does not actually want to consider his own feelings or desires at all. That is most certainly not why he came to Decadia.
Well. It isn't as though he's asked Louis if he wants to kiss him. Which Louis does, or at the very least he thinks that the idea sounds more pleasant than unpleasant. But he also feels, rather foolishly and romantically, that he ought to keep some symbolic action reserved for the person whom he loves, and whom he hopes that he is going back to at the end of all of this. And he's sure that Lestat would either find such hesitation desperately romantic, or he would laugh at Louis for thinking in such human terms.
Perhaps both.
Probably both.
With a soft little exhale of breath, Louis leans in and presses his lips to the Cat's, before he can think any more of it and turn the mood sour. He likes the Cat genuinely, and he does want to please him, and if his cold lips may do so somehow, then that is a much simpler thing than his own complex feelings. His hand rests on that warm cheek, stroking gently with his thumb, letting the moment linger and blossom between them, and trying not to wonder what this creature sees in him. )
[ The Cat isn't quite sure if he was expecting Louis to kiss him, but the sound he makes when their lips meet is almost certainly one of relief. He's cold, like the Cat remembers, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing — the Cat is actively in love with a ghost boy, so it isn't like a non-human body or the temperature that goes with it is a turn-off for him — and in actual fact he rather enjoys the way his mouth tingles against him as he wastes no time licking into his mouth, rough tongue against ridiculously smooth lips, and further still.
He may have been feeling tender and romantic toward Louis a moment ago, and those feelings linger at the periphery of his thoughts, but being in his lap and under the soft touch to his cheek and the way Louis holds him so steady, makes him want to dig his claws in and pull. He can't ever let a tender moment linger, but perhaps that's for the best. For both of them. Louis, after all, has his love and his wish to think about, and the Cat... Well, the Cat has sensation to chase.
He drags his tongue against Louis' soft palate, moaning quietly between their mouths as he draws away completely after a kiss deep and hot enough that it would leave any creature in need of breath panting. Louis isn't and doesn't, but the Cat knows better ways than that to drive him to distraction. ]
Last time I let you have my blood first... [ The Cat points out, eyes dipped low and following the path of his claws sliding along Louis' shoulders and down his chest, plucking faintly at the fabric of his shirt. ] But this time I want you to earn it. I can't stop thinking about you biting me right as I come... [ Eyes flick back up, and the Cat smiles. Yes, he's been thinking about Louis in his free time. What of it? ] Do you think we could do that?
( It does not take long before Louis is well and thoroughly distracted from his momentary melancholic thoughts by wondering how many centuries (millennia?) of practice the Cat King must have at kissing, to be so very talented at it. He's keenly aware of the blood moving in his own body, changing its pace and priority in response to the rough, clever drag of that tongue against his— almost as aware as he is of the heat of the Cat in his lap, the solid weight of him pinning Louis down as arousal settles between his legs in the most fascinatingly human manner. )
Mm, ( Louis responds intelligently, a half-stifled moan of pleased agreement. He notes the way his own blood starts to rush at the suggestion, the way he feels an eager little throb between his legs. )
Yes... I think that we can do that.
( He hesitates, his modesty wrestling with his curiosity, before he asks with a voice full of hopeful politeness: )
Have you thought about... ah... how you would like me to earn it?
[ The way Louis seems like a stone eroded by the waves as the Cat leans back from kissing him is a considerable compliment, one that makes him grin pleased and unabashed as he watches Louis' pale face flush ever so slightly, as he feels the muscles in his thighs twitch hungrily beneath the Cat's weight.
He expected no other response than acceptance, so when it comes, he's already shifting to assume a position Louis should be very familiar with having him in by now — tossing his leg over his lap, curving his spine so that when his thighs squeeze his hips, his body lifts ever so slightly from Louis' legs. The perfect position to ride him in, the very thought that's been on his mind since the last time he found himself here, rutting against the other man with blood running down his arm.
So, yes, he's certainly thought about it, and with a sharp little grin and a crackle of magic, a small sachet of something unintelligible appears in the Cat's hand. It was more than just that, of course, but unless Louis has started to pick up on the traits of the Cat's magic as they affect his physical form, he might not notice that the Cat has disappeared the underwear he was wearing from beneath the high-riding hem of his short skirt until he gets his hands down there.
He takes one of Louis' hands by the wrist, but instead of squeezing out the contents of the packet onto his fingers to slick him up straight away, he instead brings the digits up to his mouth again, pausing with them resting on his lips. ]
I keep thinking about being in your lap like this. Pressing you down with my body. Letting you use your fingers to stretch me open. [ He kisses the tip of one of Louis fingers, then slathes the flat of his rough tongue across them. ] And letting you fuck me once you're done. I'll be so warm, so alive all around you. I'll feel like a furnace. I'll have to hold you back with my hands until I'm ready for you to bite me.
[ It's a beastly fantasy, but the Cat's thighs tense slightly as his cock gives a powerful twitch of interest. He nips with his teeth at one of Louis' fingerprints. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ 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.
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[ 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?
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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.
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[ 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.
no subject
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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The Cat gasps, overcome with a million desires all fighting for dominance in his chest, but one so much louder than the rest.
He remembers the first time he asked this in Louis' company, and the response he'd gotten as though Louis wasn't quite sure why he would ask for such a thing. He wonders if he'll get the same reaction now, though he can't imagine that he will. ]
... Can I kiss you?
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Well. It isn't as though he's asked Louis if he wants to kiss him. Which Louis does, or at the very least he thinks that the idea sounds more pleasant than unpleasant. But he also feels, rather foolishly and romantically, that he ought to keep some symbolic action reserved for the person whom he loves, and whom he hopes that he is going back to at the end of all of this. And he's sure that Lestat would either find such hesitation desperately romantic, or he would laugh at Louis for thinking in such human terms.
Perhaps both.
Probably both.
With a soft little exhale of breath, Louis leans in and presses his lips to the Cat's, before he can think any more of it and turn the mood sour. He likes the Cat genuinely, and he does want to please him, and if his cold lips may do so somehow, then that is a much simpler thing than his own complex feelings. His hand rests on that warm cheek, stroking gently with his thumb, letting the moment linger and blossom between them, and trying not to wonder what this creature sees in him. )
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He may have been feeling tender and romantic toward Louis a moment ago, and those feelings linger at the periphery of his thoughts, but being in his lap and under the soft touch to his cheek and the way Louis holds him so steady, makes him want to dig his claws in and pull. He can't ever let a tender moment linger, but perhaps that's for the best. For both of them. Louis, after all, has his love and his wish to think about, and the Cat... Well, the Cat has sensation to chase.
He drags his tongue against Louis' soft palate, moaning quietly between their mouths as he draws away completely after a kiss deep and hot enough that it would leave any creature in need of breath panting. Louis isn't and doesn't, but the Cat knows better ways than that to drive him to distraction. ]
Last time I let you have my blood first... [ The Cat points out, eyes dipped low and following the path of his claws sliding along Louis' shoulders and down his chest, plucking faintly at the fabric of his shirt. ] But this time I want you to earn it. I can't stop thinking about you biting me right as I come... [ Eyes flick back up, and the Cat smiles. Yes, he's been thinking about Louis in his free time. What of it? ] Do you think we could do that?
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Mm, ( Louis responds intelligently, a half-stifled moan of pleased agreement. He notes the way his own blood starts to rush at the suggestion, the way he feels an eager little throb between his legs. )
Yes... I think that we can do that.
( He hesitates, his modesty wrestling with his curiosity, before he asks with a voice full of hopeful politeness: )
Have you thought about... ah... how you would like me to earn it?
( Be very specific, please! )
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He expected no other response than acceptance, so when it comes, he's already shifting to assume a position Louis should be very familiar with having him in by now — tossing his leg over his lap, curving his spine so that when his thighs squeeze his hips, his body lifts ever so slightly from Louis' legs. The perfect position to ride him in, the very thought that's been on his mind since the last time he found himself here, rutting against the other man with blood running down his arm.
So, yes, he's certainly thought about it, and with a sharp little grin and a crackle of magic, a small sachet of something unintelligible appears in the Cat's hand. It was more than just that, of course, but unless Louis has started to pick up on the traits of the Cat's magic as they affect his physical form, he might not notice that the Cat has disappeared the underwear he was wearing from beneath the high-riding hem of his short skirt until he gets his hands down there.
He takes one of Louis' hands by the wrist, but instead of squeezing out the contents of the packet onto his fingers to slick him up straight away, he instead brings the digits up to his mouth again, pausing with them resting on his lips. ]
I keep thinking about being in your lap like this. Pressing you down with my body. Letting you use your fingers to stretch me open. [ He kisses the tip of one of Louis fingers, then slathes the flat of his rough tongue across them. ] And letting you fuck me once you're done. I'll be so warm, so alive all around you. I'll feel like a furnace. I'll have to hold you back with my hands until I'm ready for you to bite me.
[ It's a beastly fantasy, but the Cat's thighs tense slightly as his cock gives a powerful twitch of interest. He nips with his teeth at one of Louis' fingerprints. ]
How does that sound?
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