Helloo~

This fanfiction is one I should have uploaded a long time ago. It kind of belongs together with my other fanfiction "My new pet bunny" (a Ludwig x bunny!Gilbert fanfiction), but you don't need to have read it to understand this one.

Uhm... you may find this fanfiction disturbing: The "animals" in this fanfiction are actually human beings like us with characteristics like animal ears and tails. If you're still interested - go on! =D

Everything's written from Feliciano's point of view and yeah, there may be some mistakes as I'm not a native speaker of English. I hope it's not too bad.

I own nothing at all but the idea.

Rated M for later sexual themes.


One difficult kitty

[kitty!Lovino x Feliciano]

The day my grandpa picked up Lovi off the street and took him to our house, was the day, I had to have a wound stitched up for the first time in my life.

The kitty was starved up and badly injured, almost to the point that my grandpa considered bringing him to the vet to have him be put to sleep. I begged him not to do it, to let me keep the poor animal as a pet instead. I promised to take care of him until he was fine again and my grandpa just smiled, patted my head and wished me good luck with my challenging mission. My grandpa never let me down, so in the end it was mostly him, who cleansed and bandaged up all of Lovi's wounds. It looked like the kitty had been in a fight with another cat or maybe even a dog, my grandpa had mused while scrutinizing the torn open flesh on Lovi's back.

He kept mewling complainingly all the time while we supplied his injuries and calmed down only after we had left him alone to rest. Later, when I came back to feed him some fresh tuna, I found him curled up into a tight ball, sleeping. He looked really cute with his hands balled into little fists, pulled up close to his face. His chocolate-brown hair had slipped out of its place and was hanging loosely over his eyes, hiding them from my view. I could see, however, that he was twitching and jerking, as if having a nightmare. I wanted to wake him up the way he could see that he was safe, but as soon as my hand made contact with his shoulder, Lovi awoke with a start and hissed terrified. He bit my arm so hard that grandpa had to take me to the doctor to have it stitched up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you bastard!" were the first words Lovi said to me.

I marked the day on my calendar. "My first pet (kitty) and my first bad injury", I named it.

And still, I was optimistic and reasoned that after such a bad start, things could only get better. Lovi managed to prove me otherwise every day. He bit and scratched me every time I tried to touch him and hissed as soon as I laid an eye on him. He refused to talk to me and avoided any form of contact altogether by hiding inside grandpa's old and dusty storage room all the time.

It was hard for me to keep on trying, but I wanted to be friends with him really badly. His big green eyes would not get out of my head and I yearned to scratch him behind his cute dark ears. I had been foolish enough to buy him a green ribbon which matched his eyes, but it was quite impossible to tie it around his neck, since a glance was enough to make him angry and violent.

I placed a glass of fresh milk in front of the storage room every morning and a few minutes later it would be empty. I prepared the best meat- and fish-based dishes for him every evening and every time I went to fetch the plates, I would find the food completely gone. Since this was the only connection between the two of us, I felt like I had to strengthen it. My grandpa was proud of my cooking skills improving. "What a good cook you're becoming and this only with thirteen! You're the same as your good, old grandpa." he would exclaim in delight.

One day, I came home later than usual because I had gone out with my best friend Ludwig after school. Lovi was waiting for me in front of the storage room's door when I approached it to deliver dinner. "About time, dammit!" he muttered, and I looked at him with big eyes. I could not believe that he had finally come out of grandpa's storage room and that he had talked to me. Even if the words he had spoken were not exactly the nicest ones he could have, they still kind of struck me. Lovi had been waiting for me and had been upset that I had not been there. Even if it was only about the food, it still meant that he needed me. I laid the plate down in front of him on the floor and stepped back, but I did not leave. Lovi eyed me suspiciously, but seemed to have forgotten about me shortly after, as he crouched down, picked up the fork and started to eat the spaghetti allo scoglio I had cooked for him. I cautiously sat down where I was standing and watched him devour his meal with pleasure.

He waited in front of the storage room's door often after the first time. Just to make sure I did not forget about his meal - nothing else, he would snarl at me. It was obvious that I would bring him food every day, so he must have had started to feel more comfortable around me, was my logical conclusion. The way his long dark tail would stand up straight in the air while he was eating always made me smile and wonder if Lovi would let me touch him someday or if he just hated touches in general. He was such a beautiful young kitten, how had he ended up on the street? How had he ended up starved up and injured? How had he ended up bitter about life already in such a young age?

"Do you have a name?" I once asked him during dinnertime. He glared at me and answered that, yes, he did have a name, but he did not want to be called that way ever again. I decided to give him a name myself, then, so I named him Lovi. "Lovi?" he huffed. "This name sounds like shit." He still listened to it as if it had always been his, when I called him for dinnertime.

Lovi eventually got used to me sitting somewhere around him while he was eating. He did not seem to mind anymore. I tried to act like the little prince in one of my French cousin's books. Day after day, the little prince would sit a bit closer to the fox, until the fox was tamed. That is exactly what I was trying to achieve by daily staying with Lovi during dinner. And he did indeed not seem bothered by our distance becoming shorter every day. Or maybe he did not notice. But it was impossible for him not to notice, when the distance became so short that it would have been enough reaching out with my hand to touch him. Not that I would have ever dared doing it again, after the time he bit me hard enough to send me to the hospital.

Time passed, and my optimism eventually started to crumble. True, he did not mind when I was around him anymore, but he never showed signs of agreement, either. So it came a bit as a surprise when, after a particularly satisfying meal, the kitty made himself comfortable right beside me on the floor and stared up to the ceiling. He leaned against the wall, and slowly, his eyelids slipped down until they covered all of his green irises. I heard it then, for the first time. I heard him purr in contentment. And if I could have, I would have purred, too. I just grinned like an idiot instead.

That evening, I took a pencil and marked the day on my calendar. "The first time Lovi has shown signs that he likes being here with me", I named it. I noticed, then, that almost a year had passed since me and my grandpa had taken Lovi in. And that it was going to be my birthday in just a few weeks.

I turned fourteen. My grandpa bought me oil colors as a birthday present, and I wanted to try them out immediately. I was pretty skilled when it came to drawing. The first subject that came to my mind was Lovi. We had never really talked much until then, well, I had - I talked to him often because it felt strange to sit around him without saying a word. I think by the time he started replying to questions like how he was doing or if he liked the meal I had prepared for him, he knew already everything about me, my life and my dreams. His way of communication consisted mostly of grunts and swearing, but at least he acknowledged me.

I worked up the courage and went to the storage room a few hours before dinnertime. I slowly, very slowly opened the door and peeked inside. I could not see Lovi anywhere, which confused me a little. I went into the room and looked out for him; I looked behind boxes, in the closets, and just as I was about to run to my grandpa crying, because Lovi had disappeared, something jumped at me from behind and I shrieked startled. It was Lovi. He laughed loudly and told me what a loser I was. I stared at him with teary eyes for a while, but eventually giggled awkwardly. I was a little embarrassed because of the girly scream I had not been able to keep for myself, but seeing Lovi laugh was truly something new. He calmed down, caught his breath and then asked me if I had brought him something to eat. I answered that, no, I had not, that he was going to get food later. And then I told him about the oil colors and my intentions to capture him on canvas. He had a skeptical expression on his face, but still followed me to my room when I gestured to come. He glanced around and then sat down onto the floor. His tail nervously jerked back and forth and I smiled at him reassuringly. I showed him the ribbon I had bought for him a long time ago and asked him if he would wear it for me. "No, dammit, I'd look like a female!" he snarled at me. I explained that it was not true, that I would have bought him a pink one if he had been a female. In the end he allowed me to tie it around his neck, but only for the sake of the painting, he explained. I started to outline his features on the linen and noticed how beautiful the kitten had become. He had gained some weight, which made him look much healthier. The injuries had healed a long time ago, but even the scars were barely visible, now. His skin was smooth and tanned, his hair and fur shiny and groomed. I wondered if pets ever felt cold sitting around naked like that. I doubted the fur on his lower abdomen and groin served much as a source of warmness.

I painted a picture of him in just a few hours, and even though he had almost died of boredom, like he had claimed, he looked surprised and flattered when he saw himself on the canvas. "Do I really look like that?" he asked me without cursing, for once. I answered that he looked much better than that in person and he blushed, scratched my hand and ran away muttering something about me being a stupid jerk. The scratch was nothing serious at all; there was barely a mark on my hand. The reaction he had had was interesting, though. I grinned for myself because Lovi had forgotten to take the ribbon off in his hurry to get away.

Even my grandpa was surprised to see Lovi walk around in the house with a green ribbon around the neck, from then on. He did not seem to really want to take it off. It was cute of him and made me happy. It was the proof that he belonged to me, belonged with me.

The kitty seemed to have taken a liking to finding the most absurd places to hide in and scare me out of my wits. He would always laugh at me and remind me of how stupid my face looked when I got a start. I did not like the way he made fun of me, but I liked the way he sought for my closeness when I was making homework or painting for myself. He would silently creep into my room and make himself comfortable on the carpet, then he would watch me work or groom himself. I was glad that he trusted me enough to do that in my presence.

Time kept passing like that and I was quite happy about how things had turned out. Even if Lovi picked on me and generally cursed a bit too much for my liking, he finally talked to me properly and we could have conversations about anything and everything. The only thing he still refused to talk about was his life before he came to live at me and my grandpa's house. I did not insist on that matter, it was already enough having the kitty speaking at all.

A few months after my fifteenth birthday, I had another day to mark on my calendar. This one was even more important than the last one I had marked. I named it "the first day Lovi has let me pet him". I had gone to Ludwig's place and had seen his new pet bunny. Unlike Lovi, Gil loved to be petted and let himself be petted even by strangers like me. It kind of made me sad and envious of my best friend, but I had long since accepted that my kitty was different from any other pet. I did not mind. But I did not mind being proven wrong, either.

That day, I had a bad fever. My grandpa called my teacher and told him that I had the flu and would not come to school for the rest of the week. I lay in bed like a corpse, and when Lovi sneaked into my room I did not even notice, at first. He sat down beside the bed and observed me for a while. He asked me if I was not feeling well, and I explained to him that I was ill. Some minutes passed in which I almost dozed off and then Lovi jumped onto the bed and lay down next to me. He started grooming me. First he stroked back the hair which was sticking to my brow and fixed it, combing through it with his long fingers. Then he licked the side of my face, but grimaced, saying that I tasted of sweat and that I should really groom myself. So he wiped the sweat off my face with his palm instead. But he did not back off, after that. He shifted closer and rubbed his face cutely against my cheek. My heart had already started to beat faster the moment he first touched me, but that gave me the rest. It was so cute. "Get better, you bastard!" he muttered, but the purr in his voice told me more than that. I smiled weakly and raised my hand, but I stopped myself from touching him. I still was a little bit afraid of him biting me like that one infamous time, after all. But he was the one to lean in to my touch and rub his head against my hand. I caressed his head and was amazed by how much his hair felt like silk. I finally got to scratch him behind those cute chocolate ears and he put an arm over me and lay still. He purred contently for a long time and when he stopped, I knew he had fallen asleep. He did not leave my room for the rest of my illness and grandpa had to bring not only my food to my bed, but Lovi's, as well. He, every time, smiled at me meaningfully and I knew he was just as surprised as me about the development of things.

Lovi let me touch him more often after that incident, but he still got angry when I insisted on touching him too much. He would bite or scratch me, then, telling me that I was a bastard for touching him all the time, but other than that, he clearly showed signs of affection for me. He, every now and then, would freely lie down next to me, at night, and sometimes let himself be hold in my arms. He would nudge me with his nose if I was about to fall asleep and force me to pet him some more, give him some good scratches behind those cute ears or a forceful rub on the back. When I studied at my desk, he would tug at my clothes until I would give in and lie down onto the floor, where I would continue to read my books. He would knead my nape, shoulders and back while purring loudly. I once asked my grandpa why a kitty would do that and he answered that kitties did that to their mother when they nursed, but when they got older they mostly did that to show contentment and pleasure. I did not complain; it felt very good and relaxing after all.

It became unsettling only when, after a few months of doing that, Lovi would not only bend over me and massage me, but lie almost on top of me. His fingernails would deepen themselves into my arms or sides while holding me tightly and he would lick and nibble my neck, nape and shoulders. Mostly, he stayed gentle, but sometimes, he would bite me hard, making me cringe in pain. He rubbed himself against me and explained to me that he was just making sure that no other animal in the world would even think about approaching me. It was his scent I realized. His scent was all over me and would not leave me. I was glad that Lovi showed to me that he cared about me, but he was starting to be too possessive. When I tried to talk to him about his behavior, he would just get flustered and tell me to shut the hell up.

I sought for advice from my grandpa's side. He told me that I had spoiled Lovi a little bit too much and that the kitty probably felt like he was the owner of the two of us. He said that I had to be harder on him, for the sake of the both of us. I knew that he was right, that you sometimes had to be harsh with your pets to educate them properly.

But I turned sixteen and nothing changed. I had started to push Lovi away when he tried to "mark me his", but every time, he bit or scratched me and then just continued to do it. And soon, I had another day to mark on my calendar. I was painting on that special day, and like always, did not hear when Lovi crept up on me. I jumped and gasped, but did not scream. I had stopped screaming by then, because I had gotten used to getting startled all the time. He had his arms around my waist and asked me to lie down onto the floor. I tried to free myself from the embrace and told him that I was painting and wanted to be left alone. I heard him mewl warningly, and when I continued to pull on his forearms to remove them from around my midsection, he forced me down onto the floor himself and pushed me against it. Then, he lowered himself onto me. It was not right at all, the way he behaved towards me. A kitty was not supposed to dominate his owner like that and yet, there was nothing I could do against it. Lovi had grown to be taller and much stronger than me. When I struggled, it just made things worse. So I kept still and mentally prepared myself for whatever Lovi intended to do to me. He turned me around, put an arm over me and rubbed his head against my jaw. I sighed and caressed his dark locks. Even though everything always had to work the way he wanted, it still flattered me that he needed my attention that much. He purred and slowly moved against me. His tail curled itself around my leg and my heart started to beat slightly faster. I felt strange, a little hot and a little nervous. His nose grazed my neck and he sucked at my collarbone. My hand slipped off his head and closed around his upper arm instead. He tugged at my skin with his teeth, gently. I tried to push him away, because I was feeling more and more flustered, and he growled lowly, clawing my hip with his nails. "Lovi, no! Bad kitty!" I scolded him, but he ignored me and clenched his fist around my hair, holding my head still. I looked up at him, confused and hurt, and he gazed down at me with half-lidded eyes. I do not even know where he had learned to do that, but apparently, in that moment, he thought that kissing me was a good idea. "My first kiss", I named the day.

At night, I lay in bed and cried. My first kiss taken and by whom? By my pet. A cat. And despite my misery, I could not stop thinking about the way his soft lips had felt against mine and the way his purring had echoed inside my mouth. When Lovi jumped onto my bed and crawled underneath the covers to snuggle up against me, I could not be angry at him. He licked my tear-streaked cheek and nuzzled my nose with his own, telling me in whispers to stop crying. I could not be angry at him, because, yes, he was the one who had kissed me, but it was not his fault if I had liked it.

I affronted Lovi's brutal display of affection in another way, from then on. I welcomed it. And his behavior changed, too. The moment he noticed that I did not fight against his touches anymore, he became much gentler and stopped forcing me to do things altogether. When I was doing homework or painting, he would just sit somewhere close by and wait until I was done. Because of his strangely good attitude I would always praise him by coddling him with caresses and kisses. He would get flustered every time and tell me what a stupid jerk I was, but I could clearly see that he was pleased.

Even if owner and pet did not kiss, I still felt like this was the closest to a normal human-kitty relationship the two of us had ever gotten. But it did not last for long, of course.

It was spring, and I had freshly turned seventeen. Lovi had gone out like he sometimes did when the weather was good. I passed the afternoon painting, and when he stepped into my room hours later, when the sun had already started to set, I shrieked in shock. He was in a similar state my grandpa found him in on the street, years ago. One of his eyes was swollen and purple, his lip was split and blood was running down his chin, neck and torso. His green ribbon was soaked and in shreds. There were deep bite marks and scratches all over his tanned skin. I immediately lunged at him and asked him what had happened, but he just snapped at me and told me that he was fine. Something was off, I could feel it. I asked again and he said that he had gotten into a fight with some stray cats because they had come too close to his territory for his liking - nothing else. "You have to stop getting into trouble or you might get yourself killed!" I reproved him, because I was really upset and worried.

I gasped in surprise when he roughly kissed me. I could taste the blood on him and it repulsed me almost to the point of gagging. He pulled away, but instead of backing off, he flung me against the wall behind me and pinned me against it. He kissed me again, this time more demanding and more aggressively than before, and I could taste the blood not only on his lips, but also on his tongue. I tried to push him away, because I felt awkward with that situation and because I thought that it was really important that his injuries were supplied immediately. In contrast to me, he did not seem to be bothered by them at all and just continued to devour my mouth, jaw and neck.

And then, he breathed something in my ear which would change our relationship for the umpteenth time. And this time, for good. He told me that he wanted us to mate, the way his scent would be on me permanently. I was shocked, to say the least. I stuttered something about the impossibility of a relationship of that kind between owner and pet and that a cat should never ever even ask for something like that. His only reaction to my attempt at reasoning was biting me hard in the neck. I yelped in pain and tried to push him away. He flipped me around and my face hit the wall, hard. My cheekbone started to throb painfully, the pain spread over my whole face. He began grinding against me from behind and I felt my eyes filling up with tears. A moment later, I was sobbing desperately. This was not what I wanted. I did not want to "mate". At least not like that, I caught myself thinking. I felt his grip on me loosen and his body detach from mine. Relieved, but also a little confused, I slowly turned around and gazed at him. He looked terrible. Not only was he injured and dirty, he had a heart-breaking expression on his face, too, then.

"Maybe you just should have let your grandfather bring me to the vet that time. I bet that being put to sleep would have been less painful than being pushed away all the time. I love you more than any human being could ever love you, and yet, you don't want me because I'm the way I am. What is it, is it my ears? Is it because of them that you don't want me? Or because of my tail? Should I rip them off?"

He started yanking at his ears, and I cried even harder. I knew Lovi tended to say stupid things he sometimes did not even mean when he was upset, but that went beyond angry foolishness. I did care about him. I did love him. But a human was not supposed to be with a kitty. My feelings for him could not possibly turn into more than normal affection for a pet. What kind of owner would I be if I gave in to his requests? Could he not understand that?

I begged him to stop and reached out to remove his hands from his ears, but he continued to yank at them. Blood was running down the side of his face and I did the only thing I thought would help, at that moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his, softly. He was taken aback by the tenderness, but leaned in to me almost instantly. His trembling hands let go of his ears and cupped my face instead. I could feel his heart pounding against my ribs and I'm pretty sure he could feel mine, too. I caressed his head in a soothing manner and he eventually calmed down. Even after we stopped kissing, I still held him tightly against myself and petted his beautiful dark hair. I heard myself whisper words of comfort, but I was not even aware I was doing it. "I love you just the way you are" or "don't say something like that ever again" made up the most part of them.

Later, we both sat on my bed in silence. His green ribbon - discarded. Blood and dirt - washed away, from the both of us. Lovi sat in front of me, while I cleansed and supplied the fang marks on his right shoulder and shoulder blade. He flinched every now and then, but other than that, he did not show any signs of discomfort. I knew those wounds could not possibly have been afflicted to him by other cats. Cats did not leave behind that kind of injuries. Why would he lie to me about it, though? When I was done I leaned my forehead against his back and inhaled his scent deeply. I realized that it actually would not bother me that much to carry that scent around with me all the time.


TBC...

Next part will be the ending. I wrote this part right after having written "My new pet bunny" and it was rotting in a corner ever since, so I decided to upload it here, the way I would be forced to continue it soon. x)

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it? Let me know please. =)