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Post by Mercutio on Aug 2, 2009 19:18:18 GMT -5
Mercutio made a complicated move with his eyebrows upon discovering that there were all sorts of things under the shorts to get undone before he reached, as it were, the main goal, but he responded only a little absently as he worked, "Yes, my little buzzing friends. Ah, a biting one- " He slapped her on the ass, raising his eyebrows as if it were the bug he'd gone after, honest.
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Malika
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Post by Malika on Aug 2, 2009 19:29:21 GMT -5
Malika's eyebrows raised, too. She had a hard time settling into any pattern she recognized with this man as her partner in bed. He did not treat her the way she would have liked to treat him, and so how was she supposed to behave?
She let him take care of the garters, was her tactic, and pressed against him as well as she could - without hindering him too much; he deserved a little trouble, after all - as she unbuttoned his shirt, her skin and her breath (which smelled just barely like something rum-tinted) very hot against him.
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 2, 2009 19:43:31 GMT -5
Mercutio liked rum. He liked most anything with alcohol in it. If he weren't so preoccupied with said garters, he'd have taken advantage of her mouth again, but as it were as she unbuttoned his shirt and he peeled off her underthings he slipped a hand flat against her lower stomach, and then slid it down. *FADE OUT*
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Malika
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Post by Malika on Aug 2, 2009 20:21:05 GMT -5
*FADE IN* There was a young man named Mercutio sprawled over her, but Malika did have sense enough to know this was because he was sprawled over the bed, and she happened to have been on it. She put a hand on his head as though about to push him off, and she was momentarily tense enough to communicate that desire, but she let her hand relax after a moment. ((I am just continously amused at the Tybalt-ness of Malika. I like to think this means that subconsciously Mercutio's as fixated on him as Tybalt is on Mercutio, but I know Mercutio is never going to let such a thing enter his consciousness, so.))
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 3, 2009 19:54:33 GMT -5
Mercutio slumbered peacefully on. Unless Malika moved, it seemed doubtful that he would either; already the sun was climbing the wall, but they had had, after all, a rather late night. Besides which, Mercutio always slept the sleep of the drugged- and sometimes this was even the case.
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Malika
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Posts: 126
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Post by Malika on Aug 4, 2009 14:04:19 GMT -5
This relaxation ceased once she realized he'd fallen asleep on her, and her expression - eyes suddenly widened, nose wrinkled - would have been quite hilarious to him if he'd seen it. Gone was the dignity - she had just found that even the pleasantest and most attractive man could be as vulgar as the next. Even if he didn't snore. "Ugh!" said Malika, making him slide off her as she sat up, pushing her fingers through her curly hair.
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 20, 2009 21:17:51 GMT -5
*NEW NIGHT*
It was the same club, the same sort of night, the same chase. Mercutio had not seen Malika this time- and he would have noticed her, her and her unwanted entourage of lusty, besotted followers- but he was hopeful. Not just for her. Mercutio would take any fun tonight, he was ripe for it, yearning for it, as much of a burn in his veins as the alcohol. He'd had just enough to put a soft corona around the lights and to make the maids sweeter- o, but the night was young yet.
And this was the fifth night Mercutio had come to this club, but he had no thought towards that. Who would care to track him down?
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 21, 2009 17:05:19 GMT -5
Tybalt sorely disliked clubs at the best of times - athlete though he was, trained from childhood in various things, he had never gotten the hang of casual, informal, suggestive dancing, and did not want to get the hang of it, either. Bars were one thing. Tybalt, alone or in a crowd of Capulets, (or in the unwelcome, shameful, secret company of a red-haired smirking jester...), was not hard to catch at one of those.
And he had been caught there, before. And caught off guard.
That was sort of the idea behind coming here - not to drink and dance and be caught, oh no. But to catch.
It was not a difficult thing to track a man; Tybalt had skill with it. But to track Mercutio, that was even easier, although the trick was not to be thwarted anyway. He was fast. No. He had to be lured, not captured. And Tybalt had a good idea of what would lure him, although just thinking about it made his skin crawl...
Tybalt's attire, usually meant to make him blend into the night, made him painfully apparent in the club, even as it was crowded - no matter how crowded it was, Tybalt was the sort of person you instinctively knew to make room for. It should help him find Mercutio, at any rate. He looked around for him vainly, clearly looking for someone, and too proud to ask and too intimidating to offer help to.
Mercutio always had to be the center of attention. It shouldn't take long.
((omg it is not very good. >.< Sorry.))
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 23, 2009 10:52:49 GMT -5
Mercutio was currently dancing between two women and having a very good time of it. He was not, to be clear, on a table or the bar or dancing in such a way that a crowd of admirers formed a cheering ring; he was therefore not so obvious or easy to find as Tybalt would have hoped. He was also a little drunk and paying very little attention to anything but his present company and so although Tybalt stuck out more than a little, Mercutio had not yet caught sight of him.
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 23, 2009 15:47:43 GMT -5
Of course the fool might have picked this night out of all nights not to be here, Tybalt thought sullenly, and if he got propositioned one more time he might lash out at someone or turn on his heel and storm out, taking that stormcloud over his head off with him.
Even though most people got out of his way relatively quickly, an olive-skinned young woman of the sort that made one's mouth rather dry, in a pair of ridiculously short shorts and a camouflage tank top with a lacy bra plainly beneath it, pushed past him abruptly, partially knocking him - him - over (although he had been a little startled to see her walking directly towards him, and had gotten a whiff of the perfume clinging to her mane of tight curls - and when he turned around to stomp off and regain composure, his eyes fell on Mercutio.
He blinked.
Mercutio, oblivious to him, was busy dancing between two young women, one in a slinky, silvery dress and the other in a similar green one, and Tybalt was not certain it would be easy to lure him off.
But Tybalt had one thing on his side, didn't he? He was familiar to Mercutio, and those girls - he expected - were strangers (because what girl would go back to Mercutio twice? She'd have to be a glutton for punishment - Tybalt's stomach twisted), and surely Mercutio would not be able to resist...
He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, but moved, haltingly, as though hating himself with every motion, and almost shyly, to approach him, coming at him not directly but at an angle through the crowd, as though wanting to make it look like he was approaching someone else for as long as he could, even though his eyes kept darting to Mercutio and then back again.
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 25, 2009 8:05:38 GMT -5
Mercutio did notice him, then, as Tybalt moved closer. His expression- mostly surprise with a dash of confusion and disbelief, as he was too lightly drunk to manage skepticism or much suspicion- was pretty amusing. He didn't quite stop in his dancing, but he faltered enough that one of the girls put a hand on his chest to draw his attention back to her.
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 25, 2009 8:18:43 GMT -5
Tybalt hesitated. Oh, God, a meaningful glance wouldn't work, would it. He momentarily grit his teeth, had to stop himself, had to try and relax as muscles in his side worked themselves into a painful knot that made his posture momentarily strange and uncomfortable. No, Mercutio was distracted by those girls he had and this would not... And why did seeing him dance with two other girls twist his stomach even more? They were not so spectacular. Not enough to suit him, at any rate; next to his pale flame they were completely washed out. No. He could not possibly be jealous. And he had Meg.
That was the wrong thought. His hand clenched, and then he cast Mercutio a baleful look that managed, against Tybalt's will, to convey some sort of desperation. And then, raising his voice tentatively, he said - almost in a stammer; it would not tell in this din, thank God - "I have to speak with you."
((...you know how great the chances of his shoving one of the girls out of the way are? <.< Tons.))
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 25, 2009 10:08:30 GMT -5
"I'm busy," Mercutio replied, who had recovered from his surprise quite admirably and had resumed the pace of a slower dance. Tybalt's answer came short and careless as Mercutio turned his face briefly towards the dark-haired man and then back to the girl in front of him after he'd spoken.
(( The poor things. I can see it coming. ))
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Post by Tybalt on Aug 25, 2009 10:26:45 GMT -5
Tybalt's response came before he could restrain himself. "Not that busy," he said, and it was almost a threat. It spoke of history, as though Mercutio had been much busier, or could become so, with Tybalt.
And that was entirely too ambiguous for Tybalt to even understand fully.
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Post by Mercutio on Aug 25, 2009 10:37:31 GMT -5
Mercutio glanced at him again, smiled slowly. "Tybalt," he purred, and left the two girls abruptly; they both looked highly offended until he whirled on the balls of his feet and extended his hands like he was inviting them to come with him. And so it was that Mercutio AND the two girls approached Tybalt. "Care to dance?" Mercutio asked, as one girl leaned against his side and laughed and the other put a hand on Tybalt's arm. "I'll share."
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