ralliesprotests | Decardia Inbox

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Good afternoon, you've reached Rowan Lewis at Gay Agenda dot Com.
Unfortunately it's no longer the 90s, so feel free to leave a message after the beep but I ain't gonna check it.
Text me like a normal person. BEEP.

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[ ooc: feel free to tag this whenever you like, we can wait till our other threads are done if you would prefer, i just wanted to get it out of my brain while the inspo was there >:3 and as always let me know if anything needs changing 💜 ]

It's getting late, round about the time where normally the Cat would be retiring home either with or without someone. It's been a nice night, all things considered, and she's got the tiniest buzz lingering in her system as she moves over to the bar to seek out a nightcap. A personalised mix of chamomile and something potent along with something delightfully fizzy clutched in her red painted claws, she turns to observe the few patrons still lingering, and finds a face all too familiar in amongst the crowd.

She moves in, adjusting her dark pointed sunglasses to cover her eyes for now, as she moves in to slide up by Rowan's side. The music is loud, but not so loud that it's deafening, which the Cat appreciates. It means it's a simple thing to lay a hand on Rowan's elbow, and lean in to their ear.

"I'm surprised you've not been taken home by now. Or are you waiting for someone to appeal to your incredibly high standards?" She's wearing something very far from her usual fashion choices, and is throwing her voice in such a way that it's believably female, so guessing her true identity could be a real challenge here.

It might be late, but Rowan has been pushing until closing time of late, dancing their thin figure to exhaustion in order to force themself to return to an empty flat. Tonight is no exception, and they're lost to the music once again, eyes closed, shamelessly writhing to the beat. At least it's been a while since their last drink, and they've come back down towards tipsy.

But the bare skin of their arm is warm and sweaty, and their eyes snap open at the intentional touch. They tilt their head, taking in the woman beside them, but lips already curling into a pleased smile as she speaks. "What if I was just waiting for the right person?" They retort, leaning into her. Soft fingers trace up her own arm, as hungry for contact as ever. "Like someone with proper impeccable dress sense." They add with a laugh, glancing at her dress. It's not a perfect match for their ripped jeans layered over fish nets, or their high collared crop top, but it's close enough that anyone would be forgiven for thinking it was intentional. And well, if she's favoured showing off her tits over Rowan's choice to expose their stomach and hips, she has good reason to.

"You ain't been snapped up neither. No one lived up to your standards yet?" They add with a flirty wink.

The way Rowan is so immediately tactile without needing the slurring excuse of alcohol is honestly so refreshing, and even though Rowan can't see her eyes like this, the Cat's pupils widen with obvious interest at the feeling of those fingers skimming up her arm.

"Such a compliment already, and I've barely even done anything to deserve it yet..." she hums, keeping herself close both to be heard and so that she can maximise the proximity of Rowan's eager hands. She'd transformed her hair into shoulder-length black curls, luxurious and soft, and they bounce slightly as she tilts her head, pursing her lips in a knowing little smirk in reaction to that wink. "As for my standards, it's less about meeting them and more about finding something a little more exciting than the norm. You've seen one helpless idiot staring at your tits, you've seen them all. I'm looking for something a bit more exciting."

She raises her glass to her lips, taking sip and licking her red painted lips. It's only thanks to sheer dumb luck that she'd glamoured over the scar on her lip when she'd first transformed, though it would be easily felt if she were to lean in and kiss Rowan now. Perhaps she'll make them wait, in that case, or perhaps Rowan will figure her out long before she has a chance to do such a thing.

"You seem to have a little more life to you than most... I'm sure you could show me a good time and make it worth my while, am I right?"

Normally they would be a little more cautious of someone looking for someone outside of the norm. That phrasing usually means someone looking to experiment with their sexuality using Rowan’s body, or what they expect from it. But right now they’re too in need of company to be picky, and besides, she corrects herself with a better reason for her interest later.

“Never had a complaint yet.” They grin back at her, watching the way her curls move as she does. It would be so easy to slip their fingers through them, maybe use that hold to guide her into a kiss, but that’ll have to wait. For now they stick to the touch that she initiated with them, soft fingers trailing down the inside of her arm, tracing absent minded patterns on the delicate skin there.

“You want to give me a spin and give me a proper review to finish? Ain’t just a good time I can promise, full satisfaction, or I’ll go again until I get it right.” It’s a bold claim, but they say it with utter confidence, their smirk wide, and their eyes sparkling with the thrill of the unknown, as they come alive again at the promise of company. Good company, even, someone who will push back against them and play along. Someone who can make them feel warm again, even if just for a couple of hours. And in turn, they will absolutely make it worth her while.

They lift their free hand, but stop just shy of brushing through those soft curls. “May I?”

The Cat can feel the eagerness in the touch to her arm alone, but she can also see it in the way Rowan's eyes sparkle, animating their body far beyond anything she'd seen when she'd been watching them dance. It's almost familiar, that way their body blossoms like a flower turning to the sun under the light of another's company, as if attention is giving them room to breathe, something to cling to. Has Rowan been lonely, in this place where the Cat knows full well it should be difficult to be so, but is actually incredibly easy?

When Rowan reaches up, the Cat quickly deposits her glass on a nearby surface before leaning her head down and taking a step forward, both removing the need for such a polite little request and for the polite touches to her arm, as she gets both hands on Rowan's waist and pushes the soft whorls of her hair into Rowan's fingers.

"Well, with claims like those, how could I resist the chance to see if the reviews are up to scratch?" she purrs, tilting her chin ever so slightly so that the lights don't shine on the dark lenses of her sunglasses and give her game away so quickly. Rowan is warm beneath her palms, and she drags them up until the very tips of her claws skim beneath the fabric of their crop top. "And such good manners, too. You're as charming as you are enticing, it seems..."

Her mouth is wet, nipples hardening beneath the fabric of her outfit enough that they rub delightfully against the cups when she takes a deep breath in, smelling booze and sweat and that familiar scent of Rowan's skin. That alone is enough to get her excited, and she can't look away from that sweet little mouth.

"I should warn that you'll have your work cut out for you when it comes to me, though. I'm a chore to satisfy. I'm far too greedy for it." A little pout, her full bottom lip tempting as a sinful red apple. "That doesn't put you off, does it?"

When she pulls her hands up their sides, their breath catches, and they bask in the sensation. They're doing their best not to let on how desperate they are for more, to maintain composure, but it's hard when they're drawn to her tactile presence like a moth to a flame. They would promise her anything right now, if they thought that it'd get her to continue, and it's not even arousal driving their desire.

"Sounds like a challenge, and I like a good challenge, me." Soft fingers stroke through her curls, admiring their softness and the way they move. They're getting used to being surrounded by beautiful people, but she really is something special. Perhaps it's her confidence that draws them in. Tracing the curve of her ear, they tuck a loose curl away behind it, then cup her head and press their thin body to her curvaceous one. Their intention is clear, and if she wants to keep that scar on her lip hidden for a little longer she'll have to find a way out of the kiss they're angling for.

The problem with that desperation is not only in how it bleeds from Rowan like an opened vein but also in the fact that the Cat has spent a considerable amount of time watching them very closely. She's seen Rowan in a number of states, in casual ones and in sexual ones, even if they both clearly have a preference – and now? Well, it's clear as daylight how hungry Rowan is for a kind touch and how eager they are for someone responsive and just as eager in return. The Cat can do that without even needing to try, considering it'd be far more difficult to pretend she wasn't interested.

She does a frankly incredible job at concealing a purr when Rowan runs their fingers through her hair, disguising it as a happy little humming sound, and letting it taper into a sinful little gasp as Rowan presses close. Are they slighter than they were the last time the Cat King touched them? She can't be sure, but it seems that way...

It also seems like Rowan wants a kiss, and though the Cat King would do anything to kiss them right now, she's also aware that it would spoil the fun far, far too soon. So, instead, on the pretence of leaning in to let their mouths touch, she grins and then pivots, going for Rowan's ear and jaw, where the skin is sensitive but far less skilled at picking up on the sensation of mottled skin. She kisses their lobe, drawing it between her teeth before nibbling down to where the collar of their shirt hinders her efforts.

"Mmm, it seems you're wearing quite the challenge. Perhaps I'll have to see with my hands instead..." And then she slips her fingers up beneath the hemline of Rowan's top, intending on making a beeline for their nipples if they don't stop her first.

Rowan doesn't even have time to pout when she pivots from the kiss they were hoping for and instead goes for their neck. They don't bother to hide their little gasp of pleasure as she plays with their ear, eyes closing as they tilt their head to give her more access and encourage her in. In return their own hand traces her back, admiring the curves of her body as they hold her body to theirs, their other hand still lightly holding her head but more supporting than trapping her there.

It's easy to get lost in her, so much so that they don't catch on even when she makes a beeline to one of their most sensitive spots. This time they do shift, quickly moving both hands to catch hers. "Ah - not here. Ain't fair if I can't play too. How about we head back to my flat, then we can play proper?" They suggest, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of the inside of her wrist as they grin at her.

The Cat wonders if that was a mistake, if that was using her ace when she should have played a lower card, utilising an already learnt secret about what Rowan likes rather than acting the part of exploring their body for the first time... But, it seems that Rowan doesn't catch on or at least doesn't seem put off, only complaining about the lack of opportunity to reciprocate, which is something the Cat is familiar with when it comes to them.

So, she smiles as she makes eye contact with Rowan again, admiring the little smudges of lipstick across their chin and jaw and ear.

The only problem with Rowan's request being, of course, that they'll have to go there the long way, since the Cat will surely lose her hand if Rowan got even a whiff of her magic. But nevertheless, she nods, retracting her wandering hands but not breaking away from Rowan's touch against her wrists. Weirdly intimate for someone they've just met. The Cat wonders if Rowan has an inkling, or if, perhaps, they're simply just feeling the isolation tonight.

"Alright then, stranger," she says, tossing her hair back with a tip of her chin, pursing her lips as if she might lean in for a kiss, but never makng the move. "Take me home, then, and show me what proper play looks like."

They wouldn't be here if they weren't feeling the isolation, but also, they're just like that. She's given them her permission to touch, so touch they will, drinking it in while they can. It's odd to say that they have a love language when they so very firmly deny being romantic in any sense, but physical affection, little touches, soft brushes are how they show their admiration and adoration for anyone who will let them, even for a few hours. They haven't noticed the way their thumbs brush a gentle pattern over her wrists, and they wouldn't unless she pointed it out.

But pleased with her approval they grin, leaning in to kiss her cheek and then the tip of her nose playfully. "Make sure you don't regret it, right?" They say, playfully. Gently pulling on her hands, they pull her with them as they step backwards. They know this place well enough to at least lead her from the dance floor without having to look, and it's emptied out enough that they're not worried about people noticing and moving out of the way for them. "And I'm Rowan. So there you are, ain't a stranger no longer."

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