Mao was quickly becoming aware of certain things in Vaughn’s behavior that he was not expecting, and each little thing he noticed made his grin grow one tic bigger until those fangs of his were once again on full display. The blushing. The awkwardness. The stumbling over his words. The way the first thing he thought to talk about was the ‘inappropriateness’ of petting him. Vaughn was attracted to him! Mao couldn’t believe it. They had hung out several times, yet he hadn’t been able to deduce where the mortician's tastes lay. There hadn’t been any talk of girlfriends or boyfriends, or any friends at all, really. So how could he have guessed the guy was into pretty asian boys?
That impish grin on his face, Mao followed each of Vaughn’s statements with a teasing “Oh?” Just one syllable, but they implied sly, coy questions. Oh, are you sure? Oh, is it really? He thought he’d have to work Vaughn a while to get him to admit anything, so he was actually caught by surprise when the man called him hot right to his face.
He’d been called cute before, and pretty, and on the rare occasion sexy, but hot? His first reaction was to laugh. “What?? Oh my god.” He had to shovel some food into his mouth to stifle the laughter. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Vaughn, he was flattered and pleased to be sure. It was just that his default response to things was to laugh, a fact that made no one take him seriously.
Leaving? “Naw, you’re stuck with me.” He swallowed his mouthful and shrugged, “I just thought, like… Yeah, loafing around watching Ghost Adventures is cool and all, but if I wasn’t a cat then, like, maybe we could go places and hang out and stuff...” Friend stuff.
“But, y’know… If you wanted to still pet me, stroke me, and have me sleep in your bed like this, I’d let you.” Mao gave Vaughn his best bedroom eyes, the look his mother used to seduce clients. He held it for a few seconds, but of course he had to ruin the effect by cracking into another grin and bursting out laughing.