( INDULGENCE / CLOSED )
Who: Peter Nureyev Alexander Noble (
rosebyanyother) & Juno Steel (
stuns)
What: It's about damn time, basically.
When: Post-Frey's Indulgence
Where: Olympia
Warning(s): Bangin' so standard warnings apply.
[ accommodations aren't hard to find on a night like this, not really anyways. they should be considering the amount of people that were at that party, but juno has a vague notion that they're very likely having the time of their lives somewhere high up in full view of the sun, and while he's feeling impatient, he's not feeling that impatient that he needs to hike up his skirts for everyone to see. but he is impatient enough that when nureyev suggests they take their leave, juno slips an arm through his and practically drags him out of the noise and color and wine and —
well, they're here now.
"here" being an inn not all that far from the party itself, in a room that nureyev sweet talks them into, with a door that locks and no one here to interrogate or observe or squeeze information from or what have you. there's no work to be done, no mystery to figure out, no problem to fix.
actually.
one problem to fix, amid kissing and smeared dark lipstick (it was already one mottled color from the indulgence, a mixture of a dark mauve and red creating a burgundy on their mouths), and the feeling of the door between his shoulder blades, crowded into it.
that problem being that juno wants more and has a terribly fiddly clasp at the center of his back, in the place that's basically the equivalent of a no man's land for someone to undo themselves. it might be the wine, it could also be the fact that his heart is racing and nureyev is close and the only thing he can think about is the fact that they're alone and this time there's no goddamn forest pushing him to ironically climb nureyev like a fucking tree.
but in any case, he's grabbing nureyev's hands and sliding them up his sides, a gesture. ]
Help me out of this. Now.
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What: It's about damn time, basically.
When: Post-Frey's Indulgence
Where: Olympia
Warning(s): Bangin' so standard warnings apply.
[ accommodations aren't hard to find on a night like this, not really anyways. they should be considering the amount of people that were at that party, but juno has a vague notion that they're very likely having the time of their lives somewhere high up in full view of the sun, and while he's feeling impatient, he's not feeling that impatient that he needs to hike up his skirts for everyone to see. but he is impatient enough that when nureyev suggests they take their leave, juno slips an arm through his and practically drags him out of the noise and color and wine and —
well, they're here now.
"here" being an inn not all that far from the party itself, in a room that nureyev sweet talks them into, with a door that locks and no one here to interrogate or observe or squeeze information from or what have you. there's no work to be done, no mystery to figure out, no problem to fix.
actually.
one problem to fix, amid kissing and smeared dark lipstick (it was already one mottled color from the indulgence, a mixture of a dark mauve and red creating a burgundy on their mouths), and the feeling of the door between his shoulder blades, crowded into it.
that problem being that juno wants more and has a terribly fiddly clasp at the center of his back, in the place that's basically the equivalent of a no man's land for someone to undo themselves. it might be the wine, it could also be the fact that his heart is racing and nureyev is close and the only thing he can think about is the fact that they're alone and this time there's no goddamn forest pushing him to ironically climb nureyev like a fucking tree.
but in any case, he's grabbing nureyev's hands and sliding them up his sides, a gesture. ]
Help me out of this. Now.