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gunpowder chant {shuichi + mei}

Mei

Mei

Star
Joined
Jan 15, 2009
  • Elliot lay shivering in his cage, his long black tail wrapped around him for what little comfort it could provide against the shock of the cold metal floor. His dark ears were flattened against his head as well, as he recognized the way people were being brought into the store. It was sales day, again. After days, weeks, months of the bare-minimum of training, the shop would open and prospective buyers would come in to find a pet that would suit their needs. And Elliot was the prize amongst the pets here.

    Seventeen years, after being bred and born, living in a petshop and still a virgin. A rare commodity, as a pet's virginity seemed to be missing sometimes. After all, pets could get frisky when they were allowed to come together in the rare times that they were put into groups. Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately), Elliot was considerably unsocial and kept away from the groups, biting and hissing at anyone who had dared to approach him. But the shopkeeper didn't care - it simply meant that he was more valuable, and would bring in a larger sale than the other pets. And so after the first few tries of putting him with the others, Elliot was kept seperate. Both to prevent him from harming the others, and to prevent him from losing what was precious.

    Ah, but now. . .

    He was to be sold, perhaps. To a man, woman, old or young, ugly or handsome - it didn't matter. And for the pets, most didn't care. But Elliot didn't want to be sold - he had heard stories, after all. And like all stories, they were often the dreadful tales of what happened to pets taken in by cruel masters or owners. There were rarely stories of a decent, or loving one.

    The pet shivered violently again, and closed jade-green eyes. He didn't want to think about that! No, don't think about that. The tip of his tail flicked in an agitated manner, as he finally stretched out, the long angles and planes of his body coming together in a perfect manner, a lean build and a handsome face, and gave a small yawn. Whatever. It didn't matter - virgin or not, his price was too high for most people to pay. So what were the chances of him being bought today? Elliot pawed irritatedly at the collar that was wrapped around his neck. [/list:u]
 
Varick stepped into the store, a casually but well dressed man who appeared to be somewhere in his twenties. Hazel eyes directed immediately to the front of the store -- where a bearded man sat behind the counter, a bored expression on his slightly pudgy face and an open magazine in his lap. The blond moved forward his long legs taking the strides as swiftly and confidently as if he had been here countless times before, though there was no doubt that he had not.

Tilting his head, and clearing his throat to catch the cashier's attention, a smirk made his lips twitch slightly upward.

That bored expression had morphed into one of mortification in the space of a heartbeat, and the middle-aged male was not so discreetly shoving the magazine under the desk, and out of sight.

Whatever the articles were about, they were likely incriminating, not something that should be perused while on the job. But we're all mortal, aren't we? Varick mused, deciding to let the awkward moment slip by, his smirk fading until it seemed just a simple smile of greeting.

"Hello," the cashier was the one to speak first, even before the red faded fully from his face. "You're...ahm...here to look at the merchandise, are you?"

Merchandise? How cozy. "I am...and I wondered if you had any recommendations for me." he said, murmuring low, but even then a distinct German accent could be detected. He smiled. And the worker, assuming he had been bailed out of that one 'oh shit' moment, returned the smile in kind.

"Ah, yeah. Well it depends on how much you've got to spend..."

"I'm not concerned with the numbers -- you just tell me what you think."

"Erm...okay, then...well, one of our hottest items is this little lady back there. You can't see her though. We had to take steps to ensure that...well, she's a feisty one, was shipped in from...arrh...Peru, I think. Just yesterday. A succubus. If you look at her, and if she meets your eye, you're in for the most mindblowing sex you can imagine. Her powers are out of this world, truly. ...But...ah, there are hazards, because...she doesn't actually like men...or at least, she hasn't liked any associated with this shop, so..."

"She'd sooner seduce me into bed long enough to jam the knife in my back." Varick concluded. He shook his head. A slave, he was looking for, yes. A rebellious slave would even do -- he had confidence in his ability to handle that type...but he didn't enjoy the idea of behaving in a way that he couldn't control. It was too vulnerable a thing, and would only end badly. "What I'm looking for is a sl...mm, pet," he said the world with some distaste. "that has enough spirit to be interesting, but not enough to kill me in my bed. You understand." he smiled. "I'd like someone fairly youthful, but of course not a child." this part was thrown in sharply, as the other man had started to get a knowing look on his face. Varick didn't like children. But unfortunately, this seedy little pet shop catered to all types. "A pet that's in its prime, if you will."

"Well..." the man scratched the back of his slightly balding head. He couldn't imagine why this customer didn't seem to want a pet that ran the more willing stripe. It was one of the most common requests, as men who just wanted the pets for sex and for company didn't like the fuss an unbroken pet had to offer. "I wouldn't call the rest of these girls feisty. They're all itching to get out of here and would probably happily fall into bed with you right after walking out the door...but..."

"...but?"

"There is a boy. Elliot. He's kind of..."

Varick smirked. "I'll see Elliot. Where is the boy?"

"Down aisle three and to the left."

Varick followed the instructions, and found himself standing just outside Elliot's enclosure moments later. Immediately -- without speaking -- he raked his gaze over the male, who by all means was a fine example of something in its prime. He wasn't too young, nor too old, and he was certainly an eye catcher with his looks. "Hello, Elliot." he said, after a moment. He didn't hold his hand out for a shake. Or come close to the cage, for that matter. He just stood where he was, arms crossed lightly over his chest. "How are you today?"
 
He could only think of one thing. Please don't let me be sold today. Or ever. He certainly had no intention of being all fuzzy and warm to prospective buyers, at any rate, and nuzzling up to them as he had seen other pets do in this store - although there were a few that had attempted to kill possible buyers, and those had earned his (rather grudging) respect. Like the exotic succubus - she was delightful, certainly, even if she had attempted to kill him several times as well. Clever demon.

And, oh, how many have approached him - both men and women alike, enjoying the upturned eyes bright green eyes, his body, and how he carried himself as if he weren't a pet, but even better than they were - more worthy, and they wanted the joy and pleasure of knocking him back down once more, back to the level that he was supposed to be, a bastard child amongst pets with a mother who had run away to spare him this life. Not that it worked, of course - hiding ears and a tail was quite a problem, and it was no wonder that they had both been found once more, Caela (the mother) sent back to her original owned, and Elliot passed to this repugnant place. He was proud, after all, and that certainly wasn't allowed in a pet like him.

Now, though, Elliot would have to deal with another one. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the man suspiciously. Did this human honestly think that he either had the power, and the money, to buy him, to own him? Stupid man. In one respect, at least, he was smart enough not to stick his hand between the bars of the cage, or even approach it. He would've sooner bitten the man and ripped his hand off then even look at him.

But he didn't, so he couldn't even allow himself that one pleasure.

So Elliot eyed him briefly, alowing himself to eye this. . . person, top to bottom in scrutinizing assessment, as this person had done to him, from where he sat on the floor of his cage. A few of the othe rpets in nearby cages glanced curiously at him, wondering what he would do.

"Perfectly fine, until you came here and started talking to me," Elliot replied mildly, crossing his own arms and looking quite calm, except for an ear that gave an angry flick.
 
"Oh, is that so?" Varick said, a warm and by all means friendly sounding chuckle coming from him. His first thought was that the boy was interesting. From the way he held himself, to the way he spoke. Another person might have been offended by those things...but you'll find I'm not easy to offend, kitty-cat, if that is your game. Elliot's attitude was different from many of the others; and that was what drew his interests now. Leaning in, but taking care not to lean too close, as he was well aware of those sharp claws, he continued to smile pleasantly. "Das ist aber schade..."

He stepped back, and tilted his head, again casting his eyes about the little shop. Nothing of interest was to be seen. No one was watching, and even if they were that wouldn't have concerned him. "Your living quarters are small, and I'm sure entertainment here is lacking. So I was hoping I might be the highlight of your day." He then shrugged his shoulders, as if to say this was, yes, a let down, but a minor one.

"And how are they keeping you?" He dropped his gaze and it was drawn immediately to the corner of the catboy's cage, where two small dishes...one containing water, the other what appeared to be a formless kind of mush that was probably meant to be meat. "Hmm..."

* Das ist aber schade = that's a shame.
 
A German, then - he was a German, he could tell by the accent now, and that phrase. Too bad he didn't know any phrases or words to which he could retort with in his own language. Ah, well. He'd let that pass for now. But this was strange - he hadn't completely offended the other man, he hadn't left, or cursed him out and given him an angry glare. Why the hell wasn't he mad?

Nevermind - calming breaths, now.

And no, he wouldn't scratch or hurt this man just yet - even though he could easily reach out and claw at the man with his sharp nails. But he wanted to continue playing this game, wanted to see how he would react. He was certainyl different than the other people who often wandered through this store, pointed at him, and when he gave a snarky reply grew angry and left. This German was more. . . fun.

"A highlight, but an irritating one."

Elliot shifted slightly, letting his legs be splayed out in front of him. His own nudity didn't bother him anymore, nor did it bother anyone else, really. Everyone here, except for the few employees, were all expected to be naked. "Well enough so that I stay healthy and alive." He gave a shrug, as if it didn't matter. He was used to this sort of treatment from the owner. Besides, thsi was better than the subsistive living he had for the first couple years of his life, living from day to day. . . Unpleasant.

So then, human, am I interesting enough to buy or are you going to move on to find a more willing pet?
 
"Ja, well, an irritating highlight is still a highlight nevertheless, so I am pleased to have given you that." Varick pointed out, flashing a grin as his brown eyes seemed to literally light with laughter. He was an easy to amuse sort of man and this boy was amusing. The urge to reach out and through the bars, just long enough to stroke his hair at least was overwhelming, but he was sensible if nothing else and remained at a distance. And even at that distance he continued to study the boy...and if he said his eyes didn't graze for at least a moment across some of those more interesting aspects of the male anatomy, he would be a liar.

"Healthy and alive is always good, but is it worth it if enjoyment has to be forsaken as well? Consider. There is a man who is surrounded by good company and is gifted with a comfortable bed and is subject to an easy life. At the age of fourty five, he dies. Young, yes. Now. There is a man who knows little but how to survive. He eats, but the food is bad. He sleeps, but the sleep isn't satisfying. And he has no company. No loved ones. Nothing to remain behind to say that he has been in the world. He lives to the age of ninety, and he dies."

With a smile, he asked, "Which life would you rather live, kleiner?" He paused, and added, rather sincerely, "I would choose the first."

* Ja = yes.
* kleiner = little one (male version).
 
Elliot gave a small, slow nod. "True." Ah, he did have a point there, at least. A highlight was a highlight, whether or not it was a good one. A small scowl turned down the corners of his lips as he felt the other man eye him - as comfortable as he could be naked, it was still disconcerting to have this man, at any rate, eye him like that. One of the few times that he had ever really wanted to shrink back and stay in the back, to stay away from people - and this man in particular.

But he listened to what he had to say. Certainly an intriguing question - live a long life on a day to day basis with no lovedo nes, or die early but live a life of luxury. Elliot tilted his head to one side. "I'd choose the first one, as well," he said in a rather grudging way. "So then, is that the life you live? That of a life of luxury? Do you expect yourself to die early? Is that why you and the rest of the humans are so damn materialistic?" Certainly, Elliot had a certain grudge against the normal humans - him, the nagas, the merpeople. . . all created for the whims and fancies and fantasies of stupid and selfish humans, fated to live out a life as damned pets or sex slaves.

He calmed himself. "It doesn't matter to me, at any rate." He glared at the blonde, no longer amused by this 'highlight' of the day. Oh, granted, it had been interesting, passing words between a human that didn't simply stalk off at the first sign of disobedience, but still. . . It was no longer interesting, and he wanted the human gone. "Are you done? Are you going to leave? That would be the best for the both of us, after all. Another one of these damned pets might amuse you more," he said stiffly before turning away slightly.
 
"Not luxury. I wouldn't call it luxury. More like...satisfaction. It doesn't take a lot to satisfy a man. Especially when that man takes care to keep his reason with him." Varick said, but then faltered, at that next, blunt question. Did he expect to die early? "You know, you really are a charming boy. For a cat." he chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not afraid...that is for certain, and that interests me. Oh, boy, and for your question: I don't know. I could have died yesterday. The fact that I stand here, alive and well, is good enough...but human nature prevents us from being satisfied even with the blessings life alone can give. I am materialistic. We all are, including your kind, because take away the ears, take away the tail, and you are us. And that is why, the man who lives but does not enjoy will always be the worst case scenario. ...Or, that's what I believe, at any rate."

There was now no denying Varick's interest for this boy. The way he looked at him, his eyes -- so expressive even in anger -- they were beautiful. It was then when Elliot began to lose his interest that Varick's absolutely skyrocketed. And he knew that he would have the boy. Had to have him. Reaching out, he curled the fingers of his hand around one of the bars of the cat boy's cage. The metal was cool, and soothing against his warm skin. He didn't lean in nor did he make a move to touch Elliot, but he stood with his arm outstretched and his hand clenching that one bar.

It doesn't matter to me. Varick chuckled, but gave no response. Instead he said, "The others don't amuse me. You do, Elliot. I..." he began, but stopped, trailing off. "...feel as though I know you. And I have a feeling that you don't wish to stay here any more than you would like to have your right armed removed. Why don't you come with me? If you arrive at my home, and you find you hate it more than this shop, you will always be welcome to amputate -- I hear teen boys are all about making statements these days. It would be very 'cool'." He was joking. Hopefully.
 
Eyeing the blonde human, Elliot gave a small scowl. "I'm certainly not like you in anyway. If I were you, I'd be the one standing outside of the cage right now instead of here, sitting on the cage floor and talking to you." He clawed his hands against the bottom of the cage, nails making gouges and small curls of metal rested underneath his sharp claws. "No, that's a lie. I most certainly wouldn't be here in this dingy shop looking for a pet."

Elliot glared as the human reached out, one hand curled around a bar of his cage, and he had to resist to stop himself from biting the hand, from scratching at it. It was so tempting, after all, to harm the man and his presumptuous ways.

He narrowed his eyes; the silly human felt as if he knew him? Was a stupid and idiotic thing to say. Elliot scoffed, and crossed his arms across his chest defensively. But he was right, he certainly didn't want to stay here. . . Too cramped, with the constant annoyances of other pets who cried out for someone, anyone, to take them away from here. But why would he want to live with him?

Really, he almost preferred having his arm cut off instead.

But. . . just for a chance to get away from here. . . The teen hesitated slightly. "Don't lie to me. Why do you reall want me to leave with you?" His mouth twisted. "You obviously want and expect something from me. So earn at least a meager amount of my respect and tell me the truth." No, he certainly didn't act like other pets; he demanded answers, instead of being demure and requesting for them, or simply going along with what he had wanted.

Elliot sighed, and slumped slightly where he sat, and brought a hand up to press his palsm against his eyes. "Fine," he mumbled. "I'll take you up on your offer to get away from here."
 
"Not a pet. A companion." And a servant. But he wouldn't show him that until later. Chuckling, he reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck. It was a habit. A tic he had that happened to strike whenever he was amused, or thinking. Seldom was it done when he was angry or stressed -- because anger and stress were things he worked to avoid at all costs. Both were emotions of weakness, and weakness...in himself...he despised. To that degree, perhaps he was a little weak.

He didn't think about it then how ever. What he thought about was the affronted teen in front of him, who seemed so angry, so hurt. What made you this way? he wondered... The others of your lot are perfectly content...and yet you are not. Again, he was an interesting boy, and despite (or maybe because of) the flaw that was his swift to flare temper, he would be bought today. Right now.

"I'm so glad you decided to change your mind, my kleines kätzchen. If you hadn't I think I would be going home lonely tonight."

With a smile, he turned and walked back to the counter, where he had a short debate over prices with the shop owner. Elliot's price was a hefty one but numbers didn't scare Varick -- not today, when he was determined to leave with something in hand. Seconds later Elliot was sprung from his cage, the shop owner looking quite wary, as if he expected the teen to tear off and begin ripping the place to pieces.

Varick wouldn't have been surprised, either. So he set his gaze heavily upon the boy, lifting the hazel eyes so that they leveled with his perfectly. "You will wear this for me." he said in a firmly controlled voice that -- unless faced with the most fiery sort -- could be quite compelling. "For now, please trust my judgement."

It was a collar made of thick leather with a chain attached. The link attaching chain to collar had been melded in a way that it was not the snap on snap off kind used for real dogs or cats. There would be no getting out of it, once he was in place -- which it would be, with hope, for Varick had no intentions of leaving the shop until this first step was taken.

* Kleines kätzchen = little kitten.
 
The catboy gave a small scoff, and finally turned away when he saw the human walk away to the front and to the cashier to buy him. Hopefully, the human owner was smart enough to set the price high enough that the blonde couldn't buy him, and he could be left here in relative peace. If being kept in a cage and being fed less than the pets that brought in the real money could be considered peace, at any rate. Whatever - it didn't matter to Elliot. He lifted his hands, and shook out the metal shavings from underneath his nails, and gave a small sigh.

Oh, hell - what in the world did he just agree to with this man?

So he was to be a pet, a companion; Elliot's thin lips curled into a sneer. Really now? And what in the world did those two words entail? What sort of pet, what sort of companion? He honestly doubted that it was to simply purr and nuzzle up to the man at night. No man came into a dingy little shop like this for a pet like that. Whatever you have in mind, human, you're certainly not going to get it from me.

But he sighed, when he saw both human and owner come to the front, and the store owner opened his cage. He stepped out, and his hands immediately reached up to tear away at the thing leather collar around his neck, ripping it free easily and tossing it at the store owner's feet, glaring at the man. But he flinched, and then stiffened when he saw the collar in his hands. He narrowed his eyes; it was obviously not something he'd be able to get out of like the collar he had just ripped off. Glaring now at the man, he crossed his arms. "And here you said I was to be a companion. As far as I know, a companion doesn't wear a collar like that of a slave."
 
"A companion who might try to turn tail and run back to familiar surroundings wears a collar." Varick stated, simply. "Now you can stay in this shop with these undoubtedly tasty meals they have to offer you, in that cage where your bed is a mat on the floor...or you can come with me and be treated properly. Like a human being." Those he sensed should be the magic words when it came to dealing with a feral cat such as this.

And so, he ran his fingers across the length of leather that was to be Elliot's new collar, appreciating for a moment the strength of the restraint. On the tag that had once been attached, the sales pitch boasted that this was the top-of-the-line collar, the best you could buy, comfortable enough for compliant pets who didn't fight, but durable enough and even painful enough for defiant pets who struggled and tugged. It was he imagined perfect for a case like Elliot, whose sharp tongue didn't seem to know when to quit.

Smiling in what he hoped to be a reassuring manner, Varick stepped forward, and slowly lowered the leather band to encircle the boy's neck. He didn't fix the trappings -- not yet. Instead, he allowed Elliot the time to adjust to the slight weight of the item, and the brush of fine leather against his nape and throat. "I want you to wear this until I can trust you." he said in a near-whisper. "Do this, and you'll be out of this shop before you know it."
 
Oh, dammit. Now there was one hell of a choice - stay here, with the owner and that cage (that thought elicited a slight wrinkle of the nose), or wear that collar and. . . have a decent and comfortable life with this man? Tempting, but he simply didn't want to . . . He bared his teeth briefly, but didn't retort this time, glaring at the man instead as he stepped forward and placed the leather band around his neck. The leather was much heavier than the one the store owner had made him wear.

The smile did nothing for him.

Elliot refused to look at the man as the collar was finally affixed around his neck, and his hands clenched into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms leaving bloody crescents. He didn't want it on him - but he was certainly holding the human to his word that he didn't have to wear this after he had. . . (And here he had to stop himself from sneering again) earned this man's trust?

"I don't know your name," Elliot said finally. "Unless you want me to call you 'human'." At the very least, he had to find that out - simply calling the man human in his (rather angry) thoughts was annoying, and it simply left him a faceless human to be mad at. He wanted to give this blonde a face, a name - someone whom he could associate his anger with. He stared up at him. Are you sure you don't want another pet? Someone who's more willing? Someone who won't hate you as I do? What the hell are you even attempting to do here, buying me?
 
The German's eyes met the neko's. "My name is Varick." he stated, watching carefully with a dark hazel gaze as the boy slipped the collar on of his own accord. Smirking, he stepped forward, bringing himself closer to his newest purchase than they had been before. They were maybe a foot from each other. Certainly close enough for the blond to reach out and run his fingers along Elliot's collar. Did he know that this was the symbol of his new life as a slave? Did he have any ideas? Likely, he had some suspicion -- in the short while they had talked, he had gathered that the boy was not only offensive, but rather sharp, too.

There was more to it than slavery however...slavery, companionship...they were the tip of the iceberg, poor English words that could only scarcely describe what he truly intended for his boy. Varick took a breath. Unconscious to it, a heat had started to work its way up the nape of his neck. Luckily this would go unseen by Elliot. But Varick knew this sensation all too well as the stirrings of lust.

He gave his head a shake, gave the boy another perfectly civil smile. "Thank you for cooperating, Elliot." he said. "I think we may get along soon enough." An odd statement, but he didn't elaborate on it any further. After checking that the collar was completely secure about Elliot's neck, he took the chain leash in hand. "Everything's been seen to, so we'll leave now." he said, and directed his step towards the shop doors. For the first time in god only knew how long, his pet Elliot was going to get a glimpse of the sky, and a small taste of freedom.
 
Varick. . . It sounded sharp, and almost dangerous, and Elliot had no doubt that it would fit the blonde man to a 'T'. He'd have to be wary of how far he could push this man before he didn't anything that could be considered. . . dangerous. An interesting prospect, really - to see how a human would react when a pet didn't follow any rules (not that he had really been following any up till now, either), but especially a collared pet. And now he had a face and a name to direct his anger at - which was even better.

Elliot pressed his lips together as Varick checked the collar, and at the comment. As if the two of them would get along - there was just too much uncomfortableness between the two of them to really get along - even if they had just met a few minutes ago. That, and he held too much of a grudge, had too much frustration to ever get along with a human. It seemed so distasteful that he had allowed himself be sold - so really, what was worse? To stay in that hellhole, or to go along with this man? He didn't know yet, and it bothered him.

Not following at first, he didn't move until the leather started to cut into his airways, and he followed the blonde out of the shop with an irritated look on his face, but it was soon gone as he finally stepped outside and he could see and taste and feel the air and sky again. His eyes widened briefly, before he closed them and took a deep breath.

So much better than inside. . .

Except for, you know, the rush and bustle of people, and the fact that he was naked in front of the public. He gave a small shudder at that, wishing that he was now properly clothed. Or was that not acceptable for a pet, as well?

"How common is it for people to own pets?" Elliot asked abruptly as he noticed that the pair didn't garner as many strange looks as he thought they would - after all, he had thought that people would glance questioningly at the two of them: a blonde human leading a teen catboy on a leash couldn't be too common of a sight! Could it?
 
"Common enough." Varick chuckled, looking over to see the look of apprehension on his pet's face. In a rare display of sympathy he stepped back -- leash still clenched firmly in hand -- and carefully removed his coat, which was a large trench made of white leather. Typical, perhaps, but perfect for a day as this, which was on the unseasonably cold side. It was getting to the end of winter but not quite there. The sky overhead was a dreary grey and flakes were falling. They did not stick, but the concrete sidewalk would feel like a solid block of ice to bare feet. "Ah, my mind is not with me today..."

He considered, then quickly draped the coat over the boy's shoulders. "Come." he said. A more 'eccentric' man (the rich were never called what they truly were, which was raving) would have let his pet suffer through in his nudity. A sane man would put his slave through it, if said slave had done something unforgivable. But Varick was stable enough and Elliot had done nothing to warrant such treatment -- yet. He was simply untrained. So, he led the teen back into the warmth of the shop, where he caught the owner's attention with a sharp, "Entschuldigung Sie bitte."

The owner looked up, his eyes uncomprehending for a moment. "Huh?" he murmured.

"This boy needs shoes, or else he'll have lost a toe or two to frostbite before even arriving home...which would not be...desirable." Varick explained, and understanding crossed the shopkeeper's face.

"Ah, right, sure..." It wasn't a common request because quite frankly the common clientel were a bit on the unhinged side, but after a moment of searching, the balding man reappeared with a pair of nondescript sneakers. He handed them to Elliot, while Varick laid his money on the counter top.

* Entschuldigung Sie bitte = 'Excuse me'.
 
He frowned; it was common for humans to own pets like him? He glanced around, and saw that Varick was right. There was a naga slithering on the ground next to a female human, being led on a leash as well, and there: a catgirl happily purring next to her owner as he chatted to someone else. Why didn't any of the pets hate their masters? Why were they so damn content? It boggled the mind - shouldn't they ahte them for what they were put through, for what their owners did to them? Elliot blinked as the blonde stepped back and removed his trench. "When is your mind ever with you? No sane human would buy a pet - especially me."

But he didn't mind as the coat was draped over him, and he put his arms through the sleeves, and pulled it tighter about him, since it was several sizes too large for him. Silent now, he followed Varick back into the shop - was he going to return him? That would be the smart thing to do, after all. And it was warm inside, too, even if it stank of the other pets, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He stood behind the blonde as he caught the owner's attention again.

Ah, so he got shoes as well. Wasn't he such a lucky pet?

When he was handed the shoes, he quickly put them on, curling his toes briefly. "Can we go now?" He asked irritatedly, crossing his arms, his hands hidden in the sleeves. The whole affect was rather adorable, even if he was irritated with the whole situation right now. He didn't want to remain in this damned place any more than he had to, even if he was qually dreading going to his. . . owner's (oh, what a hated word that was! But he did have one now, and Elliot should simply be glad that he wasn't being forced to call Varick anything else) home.
 
"You have a low opinion of yourself, if you think no sane human would buy you. Pets are extremely popular. They're very common, nowadays...in fact, men and women often have more than one to keep them company." Varick said, shrugging his shoulders as he answered the question, belatedly. His mind had been on getting the neko some semi proper articles to protect him from the cold. Of course, it was a short trip from the shop door to the black Lexus parked out front...but he was concerned, nevertheless, for his pet's safety.

"Anyway." he said, and it was in an almost soft voice, compared to his usual rough tone. "You're a very handsome catboy -- clearly worth every penny, even with the threat of having my couches clawed to ribbons." Varick smiled to himself, and led Elliot from the shop with out another word. Oh, he could practically feel the hate coming off the boy in waves, as he coerced him into the back seat. The passenger's side was vacant but it was only proper that a pet should be in back. "It will only be a ten minute drive from here to our home." he said, in what he hoped was a consoling way. "You'll like it there."
 
Elliot frowned, having no reply for that. No, he didn't have a low opinion of himself - but he certainly doubted as to why a human would want to buy someone who was more than willing to slip something into their food if he was ever given the opportunity, after all. Ah, that brought to mind that poor succubus who was no doubt screaming with rage in the back - she had already attempted to kill several clientele who had come into the shop. . . Perhaps if he had emulated her, then Varick wouldn't have bought him.

Handsome? Worth every penny? Words and phrases he wasn't used to hearing, especially from a human. "You really shouldn't make jokes like that - I might be tempted to ruin every piece of furniture in your house now," Elliot replied dryly as he was led outside of the shop again, this time no longer as cold now that he had been dressed. . . somewhat. He allowed himself to be pushed into the back seat, even though he noticed that there was no one in the passenger's seat.

Typical.

"I'm sure I will," he said, in a scathing voice. He most likely would find it comfortable enough, but how comfortable could it be if he was owned by someone and would no doubt be asked to do things he wouldn't want to? Elliot settled against the back seat of the Lexus, making himself comfortable against the leather seat, and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax.
 
It was several minutes down the road that Varick suddenly said, in a low, near inaudible voice: "Destroy all of it. I'll still have you." But the words were easily lost, masked by the rumbling of the traffic beyond the tinted windows of the Lexus. He kept his eyes on the road. Navigating his way smoothly through the jam that was rush hour, when everyone was so eager to make it home, probably to the company of their lovers, or their pets. He smirked to himself, lifting his hazel eyes to examine his boy in the rearview mirror.

Surprisingly, the look that he was already beginning to associate with his pet had slipped away. In its place was an expression of near-contentment. Of course, he could be looking hopefully into these things -- the German might be a sadist and a pervert, but he was also a romantic, and he longed for the day when he could tame Elliot in the fullest way possible -- by claiming his trust, his body, and most importantly, his heart.

Of course, not necessarily in that order. Grinning faintly to himself he barely noticed when they arrived. The commute home was such a familiar one. Guiding the car down the smooth drive that led straight to the doors of the house (house? hardly. a house didn't generally have more than three stories...whereas Varick's 'house' did). "Here we are." he announced, pulling the keys from the ignition. He climbed out of the car, and walked around to Elliot's side, where he opened the door and again took hold of the length of chain that was his leash.

He cocked his head, in the direction of the large double doors that led in, now up a short staircase and only feet away. "Welcome home, Elliot." Varick murmured.
 
He noticed Varick watching him in the rearview mirror, but didn't give any indication that he had noticed. Instead, he merely glanced out the mirror to watch the speeding cars, his black tail flicking in an idle and rather bored manner. After the initial few minutes of being outside, the shock and wonder of being outside of the shop had worn off. Now, he didn't really expect living with Varick to be too different. It might be more luxurious, but he was still owned, and would no longer have freedom once more. The collar and leash he now had on was certainly proof of that.

After awhile, Elliot noticed that they had pulled into a driveway, and he turned from his position. His eyes widened briefly, before he went back to looking bored. That wasn't simply a house. . . that was an honest to God mansion. How rich was this fucking human? "Obviously," he muttered, waiting for him to open the door on his side. He scowled as Varick too hold of the chain again, and climbed out of the car.

He stared, lips pursed, at the double doors. It'll never be home - it'll just be another damned prison, only with the trappings of luxury. "Your home, Varick -" he wanted to choke and take back his name, he hadn't intended to use his actual name, and certainly didn't want to him offer the respect that using a name conferred "- but certainly not mine." Elliot was adamant about this.
 
Varick made no move to assert his opinion on Elliot's words -- yet. Instead he led the catboy silently up the six steps it took to reach the front door. There was a doorbell, but he paid it no mind -- this was his home, after all, and he shared it with no one but perhaps the cooks who came and go as they were needed, and a kindly old maid who made her appearance in the mornings only.

Opening the large doors, he was the first over the threshold. Not a gentlemanly act, he was well aware of that, but he was also aware that Elliot might be his 'pet', but most of all he was his slave. And he knew that it was what Elliot expected, too. So why disappoint? Varick smirked lightly to himself, and as soon as the doors were closed he took the boy, placing both hands over his shoulders.

Using this impulse to hopefully catch him off his guard, he soon had the dark eared teen pinned back against the oak of the front doors. Without waiting for reaction, he leaned in, so that there eyes were on a level, their faces inches apart. "This place," he said. "is as much your home as it is mine now. You can fight it all you like..." He lifted his hand, and brushed his fingers along the boy's lips, feeling their softness as he was feeling daring. If the feral wanted to bite, let him bite.

This pervert was versatile -- a sadomasochist, his friends would say, and he was prepared to take whatever the boy wanted to throw his way.

But then such an offense wouldn't come without serious consequence.
 
  • The catboy followed him inside, glancing around. It was certainly an amazing place - albeit it a rather. . . well, empty one. He glanced sharply at the human as he felt the heavy weight of hands on his shoulders, and wasn't quite sure what to expect from him. An act of violence? A sharp hiss escaped his lips as that one thought was made true - his head banged backwards against the wooden doors, and his vision swam briefly.

    "Fuck!" The expletive escaped his lips, and he blinked, trying to clear his vision. And all he saw in his field of vision was the blonde human, face to face. He flinched as he felt the fingers brush against his lips, and his brow furrowed as he instinctively bit the fingers, feeling blood in his mouth.

    "Don't touch me!" There was the anger rising up again - why did the human insist on toying with him? Being nice outside, and insiting that he was a pet, companion, and then turning around to push him up against the doors? And to touch him! He wanted to spit in the mans face, but instead Elliot turned his head off to the side and spat out the blood onto the floor.

    He didn't like being touched, loathed it even. It was such an invasive act to the teen, and consequently, he often hated the people who did touch him. "Don't do it again." He managed to spit out the words, glaring hatefully at Varick.[/list:u]
 
"I'm being gentle, you know." Varick chuckled, though the strength in his hands offered a slight contrast to his words. He wasn't weak. But he wasn't violent either. His hold on Elliot was firm for certain, in a way that would make evading him a difficult task. Then --

There came a sharp pain in the form of teeth digging into skin, and the German reacted of course, being human. His other hand tightened and if his former grip had been 'gentle' than this must be 'moderately less gentle' because the strength in that renewed grip brought about the threat of a bruised shoulder, later, if much more squirming were to take place.

Varick's expression was odd. Pain flickered in his eyes, but he continued to smile -- as if this were nothing, no different than if they had just sat down at a table to have their first talk, or something along those lines... "Relax." he stated, plainly. He remained very close -- but his fingers had been withdrawn...the blood that dripped from them now doing a good job of staining his own coat, which Elliot still happened to be wearing.

"Now, let us observe some simple facts. The first is that I just bought you. Not for the cheapest price, either. I think the shopkeeper would have sold me one of his girls more readily -- I'm not sure why..." He paused there, because he did have an idea as to why, though he didn't say it then.

"The point is that I bought you; and by law you are mine."

"You may not like it - I may not even like it, that remains to be seen - but it is what it is. ...but what do we do with it? Do we continue to hate and fear each other?" Though Elliot didn't scare him in the slightest, he thought to put this in, intent on further putting the cat at ease. If that were possible - he was very riled at the moment, and not wrong for being so. "If we went on as we are starting now, you would destroy me, and perhaps I would destroy you, too."

"I don't want that to happen, Elliot. I want us to...get along. As well as an owner and his pet can, in this world. But first, you must understand that there are rules that as my pet, or even if you were only my guest, you would be expected to respect." He went no further than that, curious to see how Elliot would respond before even trying to continue.
 
[[Uwah! You're back! <3 How's everything? D=]]

Gentle, my ass. If this was gentle, he honestly hated to think what violent and forceful meant and felt like. Elliot gave a small growl; hypocritical bastard. His words simply didn't fit with his actions - and that laugh was simply so . . . so. . . annoying! To say the least. What reason did this man have to laugh at him so?

And bruising would occur, as Elliot shifted and squirmed briefly under the harsher grip, able tofeel the pad of the mans fingers grind against his bone in an irritating manner. And Varick was smiling. Elliot had seen the pain in his eyes, but that was it. No anger, no annoyance - nothing. At least he was smart enough to remove his fingers, unless the blonde wanted one bitten off next. A brief look of disgust crossed his face as the sharp, coppery smell of blood flooded his nose. "Relax?" The teen nearly shouted. "How the hell am I to relax?" He tried to pull himself out of the man's grip again.

"Especially in this situation!" But Elliot stopped moving finally, and instead, he settled for glaring at Varick.

Why the hell did Varick by him anyway? Elliot simply couldn't fathom the reason as to why anyone would want to buy him - after all, the shop owner had placed such an exorbitant price on him for a reason: He simply wasn't a good pet, and people who bought him would simply be annoyed. So spare them the frustration of such a rebellious pet, and make him as close to unbuyable as possible. "The girls are more compliant. . ." Elliot muttered, lips curling into a sneer. "More tameable. They're willing to do anything."

The catboy hated all of the other catgirls in the shop. And after some of them tried to flirt and sleep with him, and were continually rebuffed, they gave up.

He scoffed. "Only by law. You may think you owe me, but you don't." Hate? Certainly. Elliot hated the man before him - hated him hated him hated him. And god, he hated him so fucking much. But as for fear? Elliot had no reason to fear him - yet. Should he fear the man? Was that what the man was trying to imply? But now he only pouted, as if a child would upon being reprimanded. Varick's words had put him at ease - somewhat, but he was still highly wary of him.

"Rules?" Elliot was tired of rules. He didn't want them anymore - they were such a hindrance. Especially after so many years of captivity. "What sort of rules?" He licked his lips finally, tasting the dried blood and pulling a face at the taste. He wondered what the consequences would be if he tried to punch Varick, if he disobeyed. How would he react then? Would he beat him, abuse him, kick him out to sleep on the streets so he learned his lesson? Or just leave him outside , no longer wanting him? Or would he simply be dropped off outside of a petshop once more?
 
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