- Sun Jan 14, 2018 5:43 pm
Soldier. Right...Damien gave Everett a dopey, innocent smile as he leaned into the man’s cool embrace. With one hand, he held his guitar case, the other wandered over his...his...What’s was Everett to him, and Citlali?...night time rendezvous romance was a mouthful, lovers was a prediction, though a solid one, dates implied something more romantic and planned than a sexual tousle, and partners implied something lasting, which...no thanks.
As his fingertips danced across Ev’s shoulders with an exploratory curiosity, Damien basked in the absent, directionless wash of the Lure. Typically, it created an obsessive focus and adoration for the target. When he was his own target, it left his mind and focus unshackled from time in an amorphous, dreamy state that reminded him of peyote. He felt incredibly peaceful, happy, and permissive. What may have been deviant or rejected not even five minutes ago was now open for debate and consideration, ready to be ratified into action without more thought than what it would take to achieve. The singer leaned his head back into Everett’s shoulder to look up at the taller man.
”Navy...been across the globe...ex-o-tic...I’m gonna tour internationally someday. Sold out crowds in venues across the world...Vegas, New York, Russia...”
A half cocked grin graced Damien’s face as he realized he was doing the bragging thing. Many of his past lured rendezvous’ had bragged to him about achievements or people they knew or money they had. Often, it was a lie, but you could usually tell someone’s ambitions by brow they spoke under the Lure. Usually, it was just to get attention, but here he was telling this basic stranger about his secret dreams...crazy.
The walk and approach to the apartment was a happy blur of blended scenes and words. They were, in a word, incinsequential. The important this was he could feel Everett. The man’s heart beat was so faint that Damien couldn’t feel THAT about him, but the half veela was compromised right now, so that’s wasn’t a serious much a concern as the overwhelming need to just get naked already. The cool bite of the night air reminded Damien that the summer stars were out and as eager to sing as he was...it was too bad, then, that forces conspired to keep the singer’s clothing on. The first conspirator was his guitar. He had to hold it until the trio got inside. Once they were, though, Citlali was on the couch beside him and holding his focus. With a purring, warm (so warm! Especially compared to Everett!), affectionate woman in his arms, it was all he could do to struggle through coherent eye contact. He wanted to just roll back and let her have her way, but she was calling him to focus on the present. It was in just this conflict he found himself coming back to coherency and out of the Lure: Head back with his throat fully exposed, humming and murmuring lyrics to songs not written yet, hands roaming Citlali like civil engineers drafting a topographical map, and skin flushed with pleasure. The singer fluttered back slowly, eyes losing the dreamy look before his mind started slowly sobering.