My place or yours?

Elijah

Beta wasn't normally open on Tuesdays.

To be fair, most places weren't open on Tuesdays, but there was a very specific DJ who had come into town and it was a one night affair. Lotus did what she wanted, frankly, and on the electronic music scene she could walk into a club and say I'm going to play tonight because I want to play, just let me use your equipment, and Beta was more than happy to make an exception to their normally inflexible schedule.

How Elijah had gotten into Beta was a different story. Normally, this was the kind of place that did check IDs and had seen a fair number of fakes, but he managed to get in with little more than a flash of his picture and some disarming, harmless smile because, surely, he had to be twenty one. Surely, he had to be old enough to drink because the bouncers recognized him and didn't think twice about it. His ruse had worked once before to get into Beta so why wouldn't it work again tonight? That was the big question, the fifty thousand dollar question  if we are going to put price values on what is going on.

He was out to move.

He was living between places, maintaining a residence both with Kalen and with Jenn because he hadn't had the nerve to explain to Kalen that he had to explain the nature of reality to Jenn and it was really important that he stay with her so she understood that the worlds were separate and that nothing weird was going to happen to her but goddamnit please don't tell anybody because this could be really bad really fast and Jenn was a discreet creature so he didn't even know why he was stressing about it but there was a Ginger post about Hermetics coming and the only thing on his mind at that juncture was how badly he screws up on a near monthly basis and how he was going to cover this and spin it so that Kalen didn't look bad for having an errant apprentice and god fucking damnit he was going to get drunk and fuck and dance until the barrier between his brain and his body dissolved and the only thing that mattered was his pulse and the breath in his lungs and the sensation of fabric against his skin.

There was a sort of hipster chic when it came to putting Elijah in clothes. Button up shirt, vest, some nondescript pants that made him seem like he was some investment banker who decided to party his ass off at the end of the day except he had about a dozen bracelets on one wrist, possibly to cover up the fact that it didn't quite move like the other, that he was protective of it when he was tired, that the body still remembered abuses long after the mind had come to terms with the past. He had on a couple of necklaces, something tucked into his shirt and likely there because he forgot he had them on.

He could still taste tequila on his lips and he could feel sound and he could feel strobe lights and fog. Breathed in a base line and was just going to be.

It was one of those days.

Ian

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

Elijah

There is a feeling.

At first, it is familiar, at first it comes in that feeling of unrest. It feels like a hurricane, not the eye but the storm itself and, at first, that is what peopler think. They think of it external, but it moves, that feeling, to something internal. It moves to the unrest in men's hearts before revolution, that strain that desperate upheaval and unrest but it is more now.

It reaches, now. That unrest is not merely unrest, but it is taken in a direction, any direction, pushing pulling more, more, more until there is nothing left. Until all that is left is a dream and a goal and some unreachable star like Don Quixote was reaching for. It is a yearning, it is a push, a drive, a direction when there wasn't one before.

No, this unrest has purpose. This unrest wants more.

[reposts]

Ian
They'd met in a club like this. Maybe they'd even met in this club. Dancing and eyeing each other like hungry animals. It seemed a long time ago now. Elijah was still new to the world in many ways. He was less new now, but Ian didn't know that yet. All he knew was that the DJ tonight was fucking impressive, and despite it being a Tuesday the club was pulsing with the kind of vibrant, visceral heartbeat that always made places like this feel like home to him.

There were different kinds of wild places. Some of them lived on mountain tops. Some of them hummed with electric energy.

He was in the crowd - dancing, of course. Ian was always dancing. On stage or in clubs or alone. He hadn't come with anyone, but there were people with him now. People who slithered and rolled and tapped their heels, who raised their arms and shut their eyes and laughed these muted, breathy sounds. The hair on the back of Ian's neck was damp with sweat. The strobing lights framed his profile in a deep purple glow. Just another face in the crowd: beautiful, human and wild.

And there was something playing along his senses. Tumbling and tumultuous like crashing waves - reaching and striving for something more. It was both new and familiar. When Ian opened his eyes, he scanned the expanse of the club until his eyes fell on Elijah, dancing not too far away. And just like that, Ian moved through the crowd, slipping between bodies until he came to stop at Elijah's side.

He had on a black cotton tank top and jeans. A light dusting of fine glitter painted the exposed skin on his arms and shoulders. Just enough to make the lines of his muscles shimmer when the light hit just right.

"Hey stranger." He had to lean in to be heard over the music.

Elijah
[dear god, please don't suck at dancing today.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Elijah
Elijah Poirot is not a professional, but he moves like he has absolutely nothing to lose. Like he wants to be here. That he wants this, whatever thishappens to be and his heart beats with a baseline and some part of him wants to reach out with those bodies close and the pulse and the sensation of others and feel everything. Taste every interconnected line and give up the idea that there was anything that was a self and Heavens what would theOrder think?

Perhaps not the best thing he's learned from Kalen, but Elijah Poirot has learned to give precisely as many fucks as necessary (and no more) about what the Order of Hermes thought. What works in the field and what works in the books are two different things. He wasn't thinking about magic, he was thinking about barriers and how to break them.

Silly thing, doesn't realize still that this is how his magic works, how his view works, that he says it will because I said so. That things work because they are intended to work because they're truth and all the boundaries that are on a person are self-imposed, so why not push to the infinite? Why not feel everything? Why not taste and smell and touch and-

"Fuck-" he turns around and there's a smile on his face, appreciative light in his eyes and he feel sthe same but he feels different, he feels more. And he feels more, as though that were something that Elijah could do. He was aware of the world beyond even when he didn't know it was real. A blessing now that he realizes it's not a curse.

"Wow," is all he can say, laughs because it's natural and delight lights up those bright green eyes. "What's your name again?"

He grins, like he could ever forget what Ian's name was.

Elijah
(let's try again)

Elijah
Elijah Poirot is not a professional, but he moves like he has absolutely nothing to lose. Like he wants to be here. That he wants this, whatever thishappens to be and his heart beats with a baseline and some part of him wants to reach out with those bodies close and the pulse and the sensation of others and feel everything. Taste every interconnected line and give up the idea that there was anything that was a self and Heavens what would theOrder think?

Perhaps not the best thing he's learned from Kalen, but Elijah Poirot has learned to give precisely as many fucks as necessary (and no more) about what the Order of Hermes thought. What works in the field and what works in the books are two different things. He wasn't thinking about magic, he was thinking about barriers and how to break them.

Silly thing, doesn't realize still that this is how his magic works, how his view works, that he says it will because I said so. That things work because they are intended to work because they're truth and all the boundaries that are on a person are self-imposed, so why not push to the infinite? Why not feel everything? Why not taste and smell and touch and-

"Fuck-" he turns around and there's a smile on his face, appreciative light in his eyes and he feel sthe same but he feels different, he feels more. And he feels more, as though that were something that Elijah could do. He was aware of the world beyond even when he didn't know it was real. A blessing now that he realizes it's not a curse.

"Wow," is all he can say, laughs because it's natural and delight lights up those bright green eyes. "What's your name again?"

He grins, like he could ever forget what Ian's name was.

Ian
Ian rolled his eyes, grinning. His lips parted when he breathed, showing off the perfect sharp lines of his teeth. He picked up the flow of Elijah's movement and matched it instinctively, dancing with him as the pulse of the music washed over them in waves. The scent of alcohol and skin and sweat and the mingling varieties of perfume and body sprays mixed together in the air. Ian smelled like something a little dusky and exotic - hints of woody spice and amber with citrus top-notes.

"Have any interesting dreams lately?"

They'd both been rather busy, evidently. Ian with his show. Elijah with... something a bit more difficult to define.

Elijah
[odds- good, evens, baaaaaaad]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )

Elijah
Ian smelled fantastic.

He didn't realize he would miss how Ian smelled, but he did. He inhaled and there was something very distinctly him, something that kept the grin on his face. He had the kind of skill that he could adapt, he could move, he could highlight and low light and do whatever he pleased because Ian Lai spoke a language that resided in the curve of his spine and the line in his arms.

"Aside from the internal get the fuck over yourself, I have had an interesting dream," he replied.

But he doesn't seem scared of it, just a little lost, just a little pensive, just there and moving and thinking of it all and how familiar it was. How it felt on his mind and how it moved through his imagination and how he hadn't woken up in a cold sweat but he had woken up thinking my, how familiar. But he had woken up thinking a number of things.

Maybe that was why he was out tonight. Maybe that was part of it, because he had so many things to push away and let go of and here was a place that he could let go.

"It was meta as fuck, I dreamed that this- all of this? That it's just been a hallucination. All these adventures and people I've met were all just things to keep my brain occupied while I was waiting for something and I didn't know what I was waiting for but it tasted like dread."

A beat.

"Have you seen Brazil? It was kind of like Brazil."

Ian
They were so different sometimes.

The flow of their bodies with the music was organic. Ian never really had to think about this kind of dancing. It just moved through him. But when Elijah said the word hallucination, the perfect flow of their rhythm fell just a half-beat out of sync.

"Yeah," he said. Because he had seen Brazil.

"I'm not a hallucination, Elijah."

Elijah
"I don't think I could come up with you if I tried," he admitted, "you're kind of fucking extraordinary."

Elijah was there, was present, and the rhythm might have been a little off-sync but he did stop, did hang just enough to catch up.

"I've also had dreams about you, but they're not for polite company. Because you have fantasies and what if moments and thoughts that I'd be more than willing to share," he grinned a little wider, came closer into Ian's space and almost touched, almost barely made contact but very clearly, very deliberately, very intentionally was not.

"Personally, I prefer to think of that as more premonition than fantasy. Not a what if, but more of a when."

Ian
"Now you're just being cocky," Ian replied with a sharp grin. But whatever momentary upset there'd been between them, it smoothed over. Ian was seldom off-balance for long. "But thanks. For the compliment."

Elijah was there - warm and tangible and so very close - and without thinking, Ian bridged the space between them, grabbing Elijah by the hips to draw him in against the line of his body.

"I ran into your girlfriend the other day." (Elijah didn't have a girlfriend - or did he? It had been awhile.)

Elijah
Now you're just being cocky.
"Have I mastered this hubris thing yet? I've been practicing."

He laughed, something genuine and pleased and whatever had been there, whatever glitch and momentary doubt that this wasn't real (always there, always lurking, always quiet at the back of his mind- Elijah has no idea how tenuous his grasp on reality is. Things he suspects, but doesn't truly fathom the depth. It isn't madness, it's something more...) Though there was the moment, he stopped just long enough to go through a list of whomight be his girlfriend.

But he had nothing.

"Are you talking about Jenn?"


Ian
"Arionna," Ian corrected. And just in case Elijah thought to take him seriously, he added, "I was kidding. But she does like you."

One of Ian's hands slid around to rest at the dip of Elijah's spine. A little lower, and the tips of his fingers dragged over the curve of his ass. Then back up. Around. To the front of Elijah's stomach where Ian's fingers caught and played with the edge of Elijah's belt - pulling on it a little.

"She doesn't like me so much. Though she did imply I'd make a good sperm donor." After a beat his expression sobered slightly. "Someone should probably check in with her."

Was he actually expressing concern? If so, it felt a little muted. And there was his hand doing things that did not quite fall in line with his words.

Elijah
His hands move, pulled in close and his hips were against Ian's and he was just as lean and just as filled with potential as he had been before, that potential still pushing to become kinetic. That potential now had direction. He's the start of a revolution, Elijah is. So, he pulls in with his hips against Ian's and his heart beating loud and fast in his ears and it's hard to focus, because words don't always sync with motion.

He pulled in and his hand trailed, over his neckline, down his chest, and if left to his own devices he'd likely have his hand up Ian's shirt- skin against skin- if he had his way. His breath shudders, and the smile on his lips hints at coy, but Elijah was never good at being coy, now was he?

Ari doesn't like Ian so much, though.

Ari doesn't like a lot of people, all things said.

"I'll check in, I've got her number," he said, expression sober and forced to be in the moment instead of going with what his body so verydesperately wanted. His eyes stayed closed, the world could fall apart and he didn't care.

"She's very... if all you have is a hammer, all your problems look like nails. Everything's one way and can only be one way and it must be really alienating. She does it to herself," sympathetic, but not too far.

His eyes opened, breath caught and gaze locked with Ian's for a second, just enough to relay desire. Just long enough to relay that there were twenty things he would rather be doing right now and most of them involved Ian.

Ian
[Can we beat 4 successes? I dunno, man. That's a lot. (-1 diff from ability aptitude)]
Dice: 8 d10 TN5 (1, 2, 3, 4, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1 [WP]
Ian
Elijah didn't want to think about Arionna. He didn't want to think about much of anything, really, except for the pulse and flow of the music and the heady presence of Ian's body pressed against him. Perhaps he could be forgiven for that, given the atmosphere. Ian didn't respond to Elijah's assessment of Arionna's personality. Perhaps he didn't feel that it warranted further discussion.
Elijah had his hand up under Ian's shirt, feeling the solid warmth of his back. Ian could have stayed there. Could have let that hand wander where it wished. But after a few seconds he pulled away, releasing his hold on Elijah so they might both have room to dance their way further into the crowd. Elijah's moves were impressive tonight, free and fluid and lost to the music. Ian answered that challenge as one might expect.

There was a shift. One song blended into the next and the beat went dark and heavy, and Ian threw back his head and closed his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath. Then his body did this thing where it just... rippled. A flow of motion that started in his hips and slid back and forth up the length of his spine. Then he stopped... and flipped back onto his hands, rolling into a floor position briefly before he came back up and shot Elijah a quick smile. Other people moved back to allow the them a bubble of space, watching Ian and Elijah with appreciative glances.

And after that, Ian just danced - forgetting for a time that he ever wanted to do anything else. The lights were shifting and ethereal, and beneath them he looked primal and beautiful and unrestrained.
Finally he leaned in and murmured, "Want to get out of here?"

Elijah
He doesn't know this yet, but Elijah is going to have a heart to heart with Arionna later. He doesn't know this yet, but he's going to ask things of her and they'll make leaps and bounds and discuss trust and change and find that maybe they aren't that different. There will be plenty of exploration, a moment of insight, something that could even help deal with some of the things Elijah was trying to avoid by being here tonight- or maybe he wasn't trying to avoid anything.

Sometimes, he came places not because he wanted to forget other things. Not all of Elijah Poirot's decisions came from a solid need for escapism, but in truth he wasn't wanting to think about Arionna. He wasn't wanting to think pretty much about anything except just being and feeling.

Dancing with Ian was like that. Freeing but insightful. Elijah was on his game tonight, but Ian? Ian was breathtaking. There wasn't a hitch, there wasn't a moment where he stopped to just appreciate. No, this was movement. This was reverence, this was music and his heart beat loud and he felt at the very verge of tasting the universe without having to even push on the strands and feel against that barrier because there was no barrier. Because there was no line, no division. He had a love affair with language, with words and Words and things that were symbols and movement was its own poetry and Ian was fucking Shakespeare.

Elijah shot him a smile, something unrestrained. Something that was unbridled joy. Uncomplicated.
He pushes himself. The way he moves, the choices he makes, always seeking his edges and seeing how much further he could go. He danced and his heart raced, pounded with a thick and impressive bassline. eventually, Ian does lean in, does speak when Elijah thinks his heart may give out and thinks he may have had enough but he will push further. It's not exhaustion yet. He can still stand, still think, still reason. He's not done with tonight.

"Mine or yours?" he asked, the answer clear enough- Elijah would clearly like a change of scenery.

Ian
Ian didn't say anything. He just smiled all sharp and hungry and led Elijah off the dance floor and out into the cool night air. There was nothing he needed to collect. No tab he needed to pay. So there was nothing to impede their progress out to Ian's car. For a moment, when they got there, he closed his eyes and focused on the way the breeze touched his neck, letting the moment downshift to something quieter. Then he got into the car and opened the door for Elijah.

He took them to Elijah's place. Maybe Ian didn't really want to go home.

When they arrived, Ian followed Elijah inside and paused to look around. It'd been awhile since he'd visited. Not since... that party? It seemed an age ago, now.

Elijah
There's not a coffee table anymore.

Not that the coffee table was particularly impressive to begin with, but there wasn't a coffee table anymore on account of the fact that Elijah and Jenn recently broke the coffee table. It was actually a more interesting story, but he wasn't particularly caring about the fact that they broke the table at this juncture. Some things have changed.

There's decidedly more evidence of Jenn there than Elijah. There's art on the walls and some things are shelf high and some low and it's like some overpacked gallery and there's little bits of everything and one of the exposed brick walls is covered in color and movement and light. It had to be Jenn, because there were houseplants in the living room now and Elijah could barely keep a plastic fish alive.

There's a new bed upstairs. Something with posts and something that looked like it was a work of art or a work in progress or something to that effect. Metal branches, tiny leaves, synthetic nature. They finally fixed the stairs and the floor seems to look better. Overall, there's been work done. Overall, the apartment looks like the kind of place that might get the rent raised in a couple months if they don't make the place look like shit really damn quickly.

"I bought a bed instead of a car," he admits, grins like he isn't ashamed. Started up the stairs with a mischievous expression. He still got a lot of use out of the place, even if he did stay with Kalen.

Ian
Most people would look at Elijah's new bed frame and think about how pretty it was. About the kind of craftsmanship needed to create it. And Ian did think those things, in passing. But what he said when he reached the stop of the spiral staircase was, "That's going to make a lot of noise."

It didn't seem to deter him though, as he sat down on the bed and leaned over to pull his shoes off.
"What do you want to do?" he asked, as though there was really a question. Maybe he was looking for specifics. There was a light cant of his head before he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off.

Elijah
That's going to make a lot of noise.
"Oh, it's noisy as fuck," he said with a laugh, "I feel bad for my neighbors."

He doesn't feel bad for his neighbors. He never feels bad for his neighbors.

Though there was the question of what he wanted, what he wanted to do and that was quite a question indeed. He was in the middle of taking off his vest, in putting the pocketwatch on the bedside table like it was something special and the rest of the world could fall apart so long as he knew precisely where that watch was, Elijah would be fine.

But there was a moment where he toyed with the buttons on his shirt, kept his attention on Ian and his motions were deliberate and his pace slow for a reason because it gave him time to put words into actions. "Do you remember when I called you over Thanksgiving?"

He doesn't leave much time for thinking, because clearly Elijah remembered, "I very distinctly remember you saying that, should I be amenable-" and the south just drips from his voice and buttons slowly pop away and shirt comes open to be discarded soon enough but not yet "-you might just tie my hands behind my back, fuck me with my head against the bed and you may just leave a mark, if I were amenable."

His attention went to his belt, "I want to taste every blessed inch of your skin, map the differences that I can find since the last time I saw you. I want you to fuck me so hard that I lose the English language, and I want to take anything you give me and say thank you. I want to feel your body seize up when you're at the edge of cumming, I want to fight for clear headedness because you touching me only conjures up more, yes, now."

He grinned, "had me hard as diamonds, Ian. Arguably, that was one of the few highlights of the Thanksgiving vacation."

Ian
[Strength+Athletics]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 6, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Elijah
[Strength+athletics? He doesn't even have enough dice for this]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )

Ian
Did he remember? Arguably, Ian said things like that to a lot of people. And whether or not he meant them in the moment, he might just as well change his mind later. Sexual whims were just that - whims. He'd been distracting himself then. (He was distracting himself now.)

He didn't have anything to tie Elijah's hands with.

Ian watched Elijah's fingers move over the buttons on his shirt. After a while he stood up, closing the distance between them. His movements seemed slow and relaxed. Hardly the intense, primal creature that Elijah's words painted him to be. But then their eyes met, and just like that moment on the dance floor when the music changed, something... clicked.

(Cats attacked like that. But this was hardly an attack.)

He had his arms around Elijah's torso, gripping him roughly as he pulled him over to the bed. Elijah didn't have his shirt off yet, but Ian's fingers dug into the bared skin just below his ribs. He hauled Elijah off the ground and tossed him onto the mattress, which bounced a couple of times as the iron frame creaked and shivered. Ian was on the bed a second later, crouching down over Elijah as he pinned him face-first against the mattress.

"The wrist-cuffs will have to wait, but I think I can manage the rest." Ian wound his fingers into Elijah's hair and pulled it out of his way. There was pressure as his teeth found their mark on the back Elijah's neck, biting just hard enough to make it feel like a promise for more.

Elijah
He was a primal sort, Ian. Their eyes met for a second and his guard was down, and whatever Elijah was expecting he certainly wasn't expecting this. And there was a moment that things went to instinct, that Ian pounced and his first thought was to push back. Because no matter how much he wanted this, Elijah was never the type to just silently acquiesce. He wasn't passive.

The movement was fast and his breath caught in his lungs and this was sensation. It was awareness of being in the moment. He bounced, almost sprawling, pushing back, a protest that wasn't actually much of a protest. And there was that wordless promise given with the sensation of warm air and teeth that are just a tad too sharp and perfect- there would be more to come. "Je suis un cochonne chanceux- vous êtes exquise au delà de la mesure."

There was that grin on his face, one of wanton and unfaltering approval.

It was different this time, Elijah's interests and his desires for something beyond sensation, beyond the moment, and Ian did not disappoint, could not disappoint because it simply did not seem to be in his nature. Hardly even a possibility. He pushes and Elijah pushes back, tests the limits and the edges of his own boundaries, of his own tolerance, of what he can do until his body simply will not take anymore.

And there was a moment when the world gave way, when words stopped being words, when English was gone and he barely had the focus for French, until the world faded into just sounds and wordless approval. Until the world was less reason and more instinct and movement became its own language and damned if Ian Lai's body wasn't eloquent.  He was such a visual creature and to have the world reduced to movement and sensation was invigorating, exhilarating, and time ceased to be a factor.
As with all things, the evening does end. He pushed until he couldn't push anymore, until he was beyond exhausted, until all he could process was every blown out nerve ending and every pinprick moment of starlight and he could hardly focus beyond what was right next to him.

Covered in sweat, gasping for air, accepting that composure simply would not come to him, Elijah looked at Ian, hand on his chest and his own heartbeat trying to struggle back to normalcy.
"Merci," is all that comes from his lips. The last coherent thing Elijah likely says for the rest of the evening before exhaustion and elation overtake him.