ArchivedLogs:Glamouring
| Glamouring | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2014-06-25 ' |
| Location
<NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side | |
TEXT, sent to Billy's phone circa noontime Wednesday.
Dusk's next text doesn't come till nearer 4 in the afternoon.
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to plentiful artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. Though he may be bad at waking /up/ on time, Dusk is at Evolve early -- well, okay, he cheats. It helps that he lives in the neighborhood. So it doesn't take much time for him to get over and find himself a table; he's spun the chair around backwards, its back to the table to free up his wings to drape down behind him, long enough that they trail on the ground. He's dressed as casually as ever, Vans sneakers, pale denim shorts, though today he actually has a /shirt/, a lightweight green short-sleeved henley that has been carefully modified at its back to allow for the wings. And his everpresent boxy blank ankle monitor. He hasn't yet obtained any food or drink; he's got one scruff-dusted cheek propped against a loosely curled fist, fangs on prominent display as he tips a grin up to a pair of women standing nearby, one tall and very dark-skinned with an extravagant poof of afro, the other with yellow slitted eyes, tiny needle-sharp fangs of her own, a dusting of greenish-yellow scales sprinkled down along her arms. The shorter scalier of the women is speaking with Dusk very animatedly -- though not aloud, hands moving rapidly and her face shifting very expressively along with. Dusk has to push up off his elbow to free up his other hand to reply, quick and signed rather than spoken as well. Billy wears a crisp white, mid-thigh kennedy short and little pale-pink and white seersucker shirt, with its already short sleeves rolled up a bit more to expose more his slender white arms. He's hesitant as he steps in from the sunshine, stopping pigeon-toed in the entrance way. "Oh, I'm sorry," the nerdy blonde side-steps out of the way as a couple enters. He brings up a hand to adjust his glasses, surveying the cafe with what is already, a hopelessly lost expression. Dusk is, at least, a very visible sort of person, enormous wings kind of standing out even in a crowd as diverse as this one tends to be. There's a short delay, focused as his eyes are on the women with him, but as he hesitates a moment in what he's saying he glances over towards the door, head tipping up and then on wing lifting to curl its upper tip in a beckoning wave over to Billy. He nudges a chair out for Billy with a foot in invitation, pointing out the blonde near the entrance as he signs an introduction to the woman standing next to his table: 'That's Billy, we met over zombies. And he thinks I'm a monster. He's sweet I owe him a coffee.' The signs for ZOMBIE and MONSTER, at the least, are -- more readily identifiable than most. Rrr, argh. The taller of the women cracks a small grin. 'You are a monster.' "Hey, what's up," Billy offers a tentative smile, gripping the strap of his canvas messenger bag with both hands. Nodding to the women, he seems to have an easier smile for them than the one he just offered Dusk. "I like your hair," he gestures, rather sincerely. Though, he doesn't sign and doesn't seem to catch any of the previous signs meanings. If anything, from behind his teeth, he's afraid of what might have just been said. The woman smiles, warm and easy. "Thanks," she answers, light and quite normally aloud. "Hey, Billy." Dusk's smile is quicker than Billy's, brighter. "S'just a couple of my friends -- this is Scramble," he nods to the woman with the afro, "and J.C.," he indicates the younger woman with the scales. His hands are moving as he speaks, translating the conversation into sign as J.C. watches. "I was just explaining how we met." J.C. signs something back to Dusk with a short-rough bark of laugh. His lips twitch as he voices -- "She says it's surprising how many friends she meets whose first introductions started out with, 'so there were these zombies trying to eat us...'" Dusk's smile has skewed a little lopsided-amused. J.C. taps Scramble on the shoulder. "Oh, right," says the taller woman. "We were just grabbing coffee. Nice to meet you, Billy." "You, too," Billy nods to J.C. and then, to Scramble. "You can sign?" Billy asks, impressed. He pulls the strap of his back up over his head, messing up his hair a bit in the process but not bothering to fix it. "I always wanted to, but I'm so bad with languages." Dusk holds out a hand to /fistbump/ Scramble, hooks a wing up to curl around J.C.'s shoulders and pull her in for a hug and quick kiss on the cheek, then turns his attention back to Billy as the women head off. His smile is lopsided still, and /he/ leans forward automatic and unthinking to brush fingers lightly against Billy's hair to straighten it. "Yeah, well. Doesn't really deserve the wow-tone. I could sign before I could speak. I didn't even learn English properly till like halfway through the first grade." "Really? Was it because of your mutation? Or were your parents hearing impaired?" Billy brings a hand up to his hair where it was touched, placing it there for a moment. "I don't know if you know, but I'm actually studying early education. I feel like a lot of us get a raw deal starting out." ... "I was pretty much raised in a bubble." He shifts his eyes, "I mean, there wasn't an actual bubble." "Nah, my whoooole family's Deaf." Dusk signs this as he says it, hands dropping back to the table after. His wings shift briefly behind him. "Parents, siblings, I was the only hearing kid. These," with a flick of fingers towards the fangs, the wings, "didn't come till later." His expression softens when Billy mentions his studies. "For real? I used to want to --" He shakes his head, scruffing fingers through his hair. His eyebrows hike up, curious. "Huh? Was /that/ because of your mutation?" Billy shakes his head, "Not initially. I have really bad allergies. The bleaching-" he whirls around a hand for emphasis, "-takes care of a lot of it. If I wasn't this way, I'd be screwed." He considers Dusk for a moment, "That's really interesting. I can't believe your entire family." "You don't have any more mutants, though?" "Ohhh. That kinda bubble. That's cool, though. I mean, not the allergies, that's just shitty. I have to carry my epi-pen around in case stray milk tries to murder me. But cool that your mutation helps." The backs of Dusk's knuckles scuff lightly against his scruffy cheek, and he shakes his head. "Nope. Only freak in a family of, well, freaks. Your folks human?" "Should we hum, coff?" Billy thumbs behind him towards the coffee line, "Did you already get some?" "My dad is human. It's just he and I, now. But he's really accepting. I think I have like, a cousin somewhere with super strength but the last time I saw him, I was like three." He reaches in his bag, Vanna White-ing an epi-pen of his own. Dusk's lips curl up, smile flashing bright again. He digs his own epi-pen out of his pocket, tapping it lightly against Billy like toasting drinks. "That's rad. I mean, that he's cool with you." He slips the injector back into his pocket, wings rolling in a slow stretch as he gets to his feet. "Cuz freaks and queers, you know, I feel like half of all of us I meet have some fucked-up story about their family losing their shit. Guess it's not like other minorities, I mean, I never really had to come /out/ to my parents about being /Puerto Rican/, you know? They kind of know /that/ kind of thing from the off." His brows pull together, briefly pensive. "... I do know a surprising number of people who are both. I'm sure someone has a theory about that. Probably a crackpot fundie somewhere. /Sodomy/ causes the X-Gene." He quirks a crooked grin, waggling fingers towards the counter. "Haven't yet. I am really undercaffeinated right now. Strong and black, huh? It's on me." Billy cringes, "Uhhoooooooooh," he sucks in a breath behind his teeth, "You're Puerto Rican?" He mock-frowns, eyeing Dusk down and up as he moves towards the counter. "Yeah, not a lot of mutants from Connecticut that I know of. But it might just be a Stepford thing and it's all swept under the rug. -I am, too. I've been up since like, six. My downstairs neighbor has a newborn. Are you sure? You really don't have to." Dusk sucks in breath through his teeth, scrunching up an eye to squint back at Billy; he lifts a hand placatingly. "Look, it's only half, alright? Just on my mom's side. Can we still be friends?" His smile returns easily under that mock-frown, wings pulling in tight at his back. "Yeah. I'm sure. But I can't roll with the cream and sugar for your side of monster or I'm going to have to break out the epi-pen." Cuz, dairy. He winces at the mention of being up since six, pausing a short distance from the counter to inspect the offerings in the display cabinet. "Jesus. I'm usually barely even asleep by then. My roommate kinda has a newborn. But she lives next door. -- What /is/ in Connecticut? In my mind it's just like, uh. Hedge funds. And a thoroughfare to Boston." "It's just like anywhere else. Suburban, boring?" Billy scritches the back of his neck, "I mean, I didn't really experience it. I could have been anywhere." "Yeah, your building is really confusing. Are you like, pretty much nocturnal?" The blonde orders his coffee: large, hot, with a shot of espresso. He makes room for Dusk to order his, watching. He's definitely more at ease now than he was when he first walked it, but there is a little thrilled glint in his eye, as if he might be a wee bit scared of the guy. "Sounds like where I grew up," Dusk chuffs, quietly amused. "And my building is fucking awesome. I can climb from my balcony to Jax's to Shane's. And take a fireman's pole straight down into my basement." He adds his own order to the mix -- almond latte, triple shot, almond milk in it, and a vegan oatmeal chocolate chip cookie -- and slips his phone out of his pocket, swiping the screen unlocked to scan a QR code against a reader by the cash register. Payment complete, he meanders to the side, resting his wings back against the counter to lean against them. He gives Billy a quick smile, fangs glinting. "I'm a vampire. Isn't being nocturnal, like, in the rules? I'm pretty sure they revoke my license otherwise." Billy tremors a little, watching the fangs instead of Dusk's eyes. Nonetheless, he's still smiling. "You all very really open with each other. ...I guess you've been through a lot together." It's said with a mixture of judgement and perhaps secret longing for something similar for himself. He pops open the lid to his coffee, pursing his lips to blow tiny puffs of air at the steam rolling off of it. Dusk glances back over his shoulder, looking towards the kitchen door as though he might /see/ the tiny blue shark-boy who owns the store. He doesn't see Shane, though, and just rolls a wing in a shrug, turning around to claim his own coffee and cookie when they're offered over to him. "Shane knows what it's like to be a monster," he says with a small breath of laughter, grabbing a napkin and ambling back towards their table to slide back into his seat. Backwards, once more. "He and Jax -- and Flicker, and Hive -- they pulled me out of a cage once. Made me a person again." But after this his smile is just bright, sharp amusement dancing in his eyes. "But yeah. By now we're. Uh. /Open/. That's a euphemistic way of putting it." "Can we stop? ...repeating that word, I mean," Billy goes all doe-eyed, as is his way. He looks away, cradling his coffee. He does breath out a laugh at the last part. He might blush if he could. Blood rushing to his face only makes him look paler. "It's good, though. You're like, a tribe. ...a big, gay, mutant tribe." Dusk dips his eyes down to his cup, curling his fingers around it. His forefinger traces slowly in a small circling motion against the side of the cup, and he sucks in a breath, swallowing down whatever he had been about to say first. Instead, he tips a small private smile down towards the cup. "My roommates are all straight as fucking arrows," he admits lightly. "Only -- half gay, really." His head bows slightly further, thick dark hair falling down over his forehead. He doesn't lift his head when he looks back up at Billy, eyes lifting from behind a curtain of dark lashes and dark loose waves of hair. "Does it bother you?" His hand lifts from the cup to turn palm-upward. "Being, uh. So. /Open/." "Nn-no, no, of course not," Billy stammers. He sips his coffee nervously, "I guess I've just never really been around that. ...is all." He stares on flat mouthed and with wide eyed, his Adam's apple bobbing with a big gulp. Just to do something, he removes the lid again to blow on the coffee more, but this time, it looks like some of the coffee closest to the top is starting to turn clear. Bleaching doesn't encourage being, uh /open/. "Yeeeah, you /look/ really unbothered." Dusk's finger ceases its motion, curling in to lace with his other hand around the cup. "I just don't really think about it much, you know? I don't get why everything has to be such a big deal. But I kind of figure --" His wings flare just slightly out to his sides, before one of them lifts higher in a shrug and they curl back in. "People are pretty much going to have /some/ reason to get judgmental no matter what so I seriously could give no fucks what anyone thinks about -- well, the ins and outs of /anyone's/ relationships, really." His smile twitches slightly up again. "... maybe you should hang out more." Billy flicks his eyebrows up, seeming even more timid now than he was even a moment ago. "I-" He starts, but instead gulps down some more coffee. He clears his throat with a squeak. "S-so, what do you do like, when you're not being a vampire and saving people from zombies?" From Dusk, at first, there's only silence at this. He eases forward in his chair to rest up against its backrest, lifting his cup finally to take a slow sip of coffee. His eyes linger on Billy with open curiosity, hand finally rubbing at his cheek again. "I'm always a vampire. I can't actually turn that off. I mean, what do you do when you're not being bleachy?" Billy laughs, closing his eyes, "I meant-I meant, what else." Re-opening them, he watches Dusk with a crooked half-smile. He's not sure if he's being messed with or not. "Oh, when I'm not bleachy, I actually turn into a vampire, so..." "Shiiit, no kidding? Cuz in my downtime I like to bleach shit." Dusk takes another careful sip of coffee before judging it not-piping-hot enough to take a more proper swallow. "You do look the part." He flicks fingers towards his own face, corpse-pale behind his scruff of contrastingly very-dark hair. "I could hook you up with some prosthetic fangs, I can't even fucking tell you how much all this vampire pop-culture has like. I don't know this Twilight and Vampire Diaries shit and suddenly there's fangirls -- and boys, right, if that's your thing -- out the fucking. Woodwork. Lot of biting fetish inspired by teen soap operas." "Eww, I didn't even think of that," Billy frowns, shaking his head and looking off into the distance, muttering, "The books Trueblood was based off of were just terrible. Still, that's like, positive PR, right? Do you ever like... feed off of them?" Billy peers innocently over the top of his glasses before moving. He holds out his arm towards Dusk, exposing an upturned wrist, "I think we might actually be the same color." "Yeah. I don't know if I've liked a vampire show since Angel. But /I'm/ kind of picky about them. /Other/ genres I'll eat up the shittiest trash." The question about feeding actually does put a faint blush in Dusk's cheeks, hand ruffing fingers through his hair. "Feeding -- it's not as sexy as the shows make it seem. I mean, no, fuck, it /is/ totally hot but it's messy and it's dangerous and unlike TV vampires, /I/ can still get blood-borne diseases so uh. I mean, I've slept with them? But I'll sleep with someone way sooner than I'll feed off of them. I can't put a /condom/ on a vein, it's pretty hard to open myself up to /more/ risk than just drinking someone's blood straight-up. Mostly when I feed it's just. It's with people who I've discussed it in depth with and I know all their medical history and they know all mine and /all/ of us get tested for so many things very regularly. It's, um, honestly?" He looks a little bit sheepish. "Mostly just kind of an enormous pain, you know?" His hand lowers, fingers stretching out long and pale to lay against the inside of Billy's upturned wrist. One forefinger trails -- maybe on purpose, maybe just absent habit -- against the path of a vein before he checks himself and stops, hand stilling against Billy's skin. "Just about. And you're /not/ nocturnal? You look like it'd suit you." Billy shivers, slowly snaking his arm back to nestle between his legs, "Sometimes I get into a mode, where I'm up nights. The sun sure as hell isn't my friend." He unconsciously runs his own fingers along his forearm, mimicking Dusk's earlier action, "I guess realistically, it would be really involved and scary." A moment later, the pale wrist makes a second appearance, facing Dusk, "My blood is like, bleachy acid. It's not even red. It looks like that stuff the cyborgs bleed in the Aliens movies." He smiles impishly. Dusk dips his head with a trace of apology when Billy pulls his arm back. His own hand drops to rest on the table between them, fingers splayed lightly against the tabletop. He lifts his coffee in his other hand, taking a long drink. "I wasn't going to bite you," he says lightly, "I don't -- do that. Without consent." He answers the smile with a brighter grin. "OK, that doesn't sound great to /drink/ but it does sound pretty /cool/. I wouldn't mind having acid blood. Kind of a discouragement to people who want to --" He breaks off here with a brief flush of red in his pale cheeks. Billy smiles, returning the wrist to his lap, "I didn't think you were." He looks down to his coffee, sipping it and shaking his head, "It's not 'burn through the floor' acid or anything." He watches the blush intently, "It's in my saliva, too. And my sweat. I feel, kind of like a hypocrite over the fight we got into the other day. I uhm, a guy had a gun to me and he turned it away for a moment and I, uhm, I spit. In his eyes. I shouldn't have." The smile is gone, but leaving only a very blank expression. "Is that why you keep pulling away? Or is it because I make you uncomfortable? Because I don't -- want to make you uncomfortable. I get really touch -- y and I don't even think about it. And I'll back the fuck off cuz I don't want to bother you but if you think that's --" Dusk waves his coffee towards Billy's cup where the coffee has been turning clear, "-- going to bother /me/, it's not." He leaves his other hand on the table, brows lifting thoughtfully over his next sip of coffee. "He had a gun on you." His wing lifts in a brief shrug. "What do /you/ think you should've done?" "You say that now," Billy turns more pale, pinching his eyes happily, "You just uh-- make my palms sweat." He self-consciously wipes a hand against his leg, "I don't know what I should have done. I just wanted to admit that, y'know?" Pacifism certainly is easy enough to preach. "You know, my roommate, when he talks to you it's like getting stabbed in the brain with an ice pick. And Shane and his twin, you brush a hand over their skin? It'll take /your/ skin off. And Jax, when he's happy he lights the fucking sheets on fire? That does no fun things to people he's touching. And J.C. --" Dusk flicks a thumbclaw -- though actually the two women have /long/ since left, there is nobody left to point to. "Her venom is /actually/ acid. Like, it'll eat through a solid brick of cement, acid. I just --" For a moment his smile is almost shy, looking down at his cup. "I just, what I mean is, everyone's got their things, right? And life's maybe not always fucking /convenient/ but my whole screwball circle of friends, I'm /okay/ with a little inconvenient if it gets me closer to people." His hand shifts where it lies on the table, turning palm-up, now. He lifts his eyes back to Billy, pressing his wings tighter in against his back. "Yeah." His voice has dropped quieter, a soft exhale pushed out through his nose. "... world's fucked up sometimes. I don't think it's always easy to /know/..." He trails off here with a small shake of head, hand lifting from his coffee to brush through /his/ hair, this time, to leave it tousled. Billy reaches forward, shakily brushing his hand through the front of Dusk's hair to correct it if he can. He takes a lock of bang from root to end, rubbing the tips together before silently leaning back to admire his work. This just draws a softer smile from Dusk, hand dropping back to curl against his coffee cup. He shakes his head out once Billy is through, letting his shaggy-long hair flop down over his forehead so that he can strain his eyes upward to see the new handiwork. He tips his head back again to shake it out of his eyes, grinning over at Billy and ruffling his hand through it once more to leave it a shaggy-tousled mess. Billy drinks his coffee, watching the terrifying vampire play with his hair. "Looks good. Gonna have to start calling you 'Spike' in my head, instead." Completely pale-faced now, he mirrors Dusk's grin. "Do I have to put on a shitty English accent, because I don't know if I can swing that way." Dusk catches the strip of bleached bangs between his fingers, sweeping it to one side and out of his eyes. He laughs, quiet, as he looks back at Billy's pale(r) face. "I can feel that, you know." "Yes," the /real/ blonde answers matter-of-factly, turning up his chin. His laughter attracts a few smiles from across the room but he doesn't notice. "You can feel what?" "When you blush," Dusk answers lightly. "I mean, you're cheating. You're almost cheating. In me it /shows/. You hide it well. But I can feel --" His wing stretches out around the edge of the table, one wingtip (kind of velvety-soft) brushing up against Billy's cheek. "The way it flushes. The way your heart beats. -- I think it's a vampire thing, love." That last sentence, notably, is in a /quite/ shitty English accent. Billy shifts in his seat, at first lifting up slightly with the motion of the wing and perhaps paling a bit more. He sighs, shaking his head and considering Dusk. "Am I being glamoured?" He giggles, eyes following the wing. He reaches out with a fingertip to sneak a touch of the wing, "That's better than my British accent." Dusk's wing curls in just a little closer, dropping a hair away from Billy's cheek but staying brushed up against his fingers. "I don't know, should I test this? If I ask you to show me /your/ terrible British accent now are you going to listen to me?" Billy grins, still watching the wing, "No. I'm not. ...I guess that means I'm immune." Idly, he glances over towards the clock, tip-tapping his fingers just slightly, not really meaning to tickle but- "I think we've actually been here all day." Dusk's wing shivers, a ripple coursing through the membrane -- oddly supple-/strong/ beneath its downy-soft coat of fuzz. "Helps I didn't roll out of bed till the crack of -- freaking. Uh. Four in the --" He grins over his shoulder towards the fading light outside. "You want to get out?" Billy considers and then nods, "I'm all coffee'd up." Or so he says, retaining the same calm, demure position in his chair. "Aren't you?" He glances to the wing, as if to check if it's still there or what it's doing, then back to Dusk. Dusk downs the last swig of coffee in a quick gulp, shaking his head and lowering his wing very slowly to fold back in against his back. "Yeah -- I mean. I'm good on /coffee/." He's, admittedly, not standing either. The blonde doesn't move for a long time. Rather, he smiles contently with his eyes for a few minutes, his foot thwapping against the arm of his chair rhythmically like a cat's. Eventually however, the caffeine in his system offers Billy no alternative. Standing, he wrings the strap of his pack and chews on the inside of his lip. "This was good," he nods, shifting his eyes. Dusk wraps his cookie carefully into his napkin, tucking it uneaten into his pocket. He stands, swiping his empty cup off the table and twisting his chair around to push it back in. "Good. Should do it more often. I work from home? So my schedule's usually pretty much -- whatever the hell I want it to be." He veers over to toss his cup away before heading for the door, holding it open for Billy. "And I really like coffee. Can I ask you something?" "Yeah, I do all my classes on my laptop, so," Billy tosses his cup away too as he steps through the door, "Thanks." He looks down to pull his bag up over his head and over his shoulder, "Sure," he answers happily enough, trying to get the strap comfortable. Dusk lets the door close behind them after Billy is out, reaching out with that same absent habitual familiarity to help adjust the strap of the bag. He takes brief moment once they're not /indoors/ anymore to step a bit away from the building and stretch his wings out to the sides -- there are few inside places big enough to /allow/ them to actual uncurl unimpeded by walls or chairs or counters or tables and it's clear from his faint wince that there's no small measure of stiffness associated with keeping them crumpled close for too long. He glances around the small side-alley that Evolve lives in, and folds his wings again, dropping his hands to his sides and actually taking a small step away from, rather than closer to, Billy -- slightly less /loomy/, slightly less /in/ his personal space before the question: "If I kissed you right now, would you like that?" If Billy was white before, there are no words for the depth of his blush, now. It isn't that he wasn't expecting as much, but it's one thing to envision something and another to have it come to pass. He brings up a hand and pinches his fingers to the hinge of his glasses to adjust them, gulping down hard. "Shyhh-" He breathes out an unintelligible response, nodding just once with wide, alarmed eyes. Dusk steps in, curling a wing up to brush gently against Billy's shoulder; it wraps lightly around Billy as he steps in closer. His dark eyes flick up over Billy's face, a hint of a smile on his lips in the moment before he leans in, tipping his head upward to press his lips softly to the other man's. Billy does look a little intimidated, at the demonic wing and the dark figure coming so close to him. One doesn't have to know Billy long to know this isn't anywhere near an everyday occurrence for him. He leans in, closing his eyes and pressing forward to stand right up against Dusk. It starts off like any other kiss. Granted, Billy is a little out of practice. He presses forward, gentle but firm. At first, the cleansing white power that hides inside of Billy's cowardly little shell might feel a little good. The tingling sensation is interesting, even fun. Gradually, it turns into a little bit of an afterbite growing as the kiss intensifies until it starts to burn and still, continues to build as if it might even have the capacity to singe. Of course, Billy can't feel any of this. To him, it's a normal kiss. Well, a normal kiss with a courageous, handsome, winged vampire. Dusk presses more firmly into the kiss, shivering -- the tremor ripples down his spine and up along the wing that is curled around Billy. The initial tingling draws his breath in, a slow catch as his hand lifts, tracing the tips of his fingers lightly down against Billy's jaw, then back to curl into the other man's hair. His wing slides down against Billy's shoulder, drooping back against his own back, and even at the first hint of bite he holds the kiss, gentle but definitely not shy, lips just slightly parted against the other man's. His breath catches more sharply when it starts to burn -- he pulls slightly back only to follow this with another kiss, deeper and a little bit harder, after which he rests his forehead against Billy's, large dark eyes a little wide and his pupils dilated. "-- Oh." It doesn't sound displeased, soft and breathy, though his chest is heaving a little /too/ hard and his hand lifting to press fingers to his lips. His lips press inward, curling against each other and then relaxing. "You're intense." "Sorry," Billy whispers, pressing his forehead and rocking it a bit into Dusk's. He wants to keep his eyes closed, but can't help peeking up over the rim of his glasses. He bats his big, worry-ridden eyes once, biting his own bottom lip. His own hands roam up the other man's arms, one palm finding and planting firmly on his chest. The pounding heart only gives the concerned expression more fuel. "Are you okay?" "Don't be." Dusk drops his hand to rest over Billy's, fingers curling around Billy's hand where it rests on his chest. He touches his lips to Billy's once more, this time just a feather-light brush. "I'm doing pretty fantastic just now, actually. Are /you/ okay?" "No," Billy looks down and back up, blue eyes crossing Dusk's mouth on their way to his. "I think, I'm in trouble." Dreamily, he maintains eye contact for a while, but a smirk forms on his lips and gently, it grows into a big, cheshire-smile, "You uh-uhmm, you look like you're wearing white lipstick." Dusk laughs at this, bleach-faded lips peeling back in wide amusement. "Shit, that'll ruin my goth cred." Which isn't stopping him from leaning in to dot another kiss to the corner of Billy's mouth. Then neck -- before he pulls back with a slow inhale. "You have no idea how badly I want to take you home." He rubs his palm against his cheek, then scrubs fingers through his (... steadily even /messier/) hair. "But I don't want to be too /much/ trouble too fast. Can we do this again? Maybe soon?" The blonde flutters his eyes, arching his neck to expose it a little. Billy does seem to lean away at the mention of being taken home, even if he doesn't actually step away. "Look, uh, Dusk I'm not like--" He wets his lips nervously, "-cassualll-" "--like that." The pale hand on Dusk's chest runs back down to his arm, "But I'd mmhm, like to do this, again. If you're okay with that." Billy's look does grow a bit fiercely confident, though the smile he produces is something forced. He steps away, taking in an unsteady breath. "Let me know." "Not a giant ho like I am?" Dusk seems brightly amused rather than offended. His hand turns upward when Billy's runs down his arm, fingers turning up to brush, warmly, against the inside of the other man's arm. "That's cool. No pressure. For real. And I'm /very/ okay with it." His fingers squeeze gently at Billy's wrist, and he drops his hand when Billy steps away. "Coffee. Soon. I'll text you?" His brows lift hopefully, and he walks backwards, further into the alley though his eyes are on Billy long enough for answer. Just long enough for answer, before his wings spread again, beating down hard to pull him up into the air and take him home. Billy smiles quietly, nodding once. His hands find their way back to the strap of his bag. He takes a step backward as well, out into the street where there is still some sunlight out, gleaming out from behind him. "Okay. Text me later." The small patch of sunlight is -- very briefly -- darkened by a bat-winged shadow overhead. And then it's just evening once more, leaving Billy alone in the twilit street. | |
