WHO: Schuldig (
colpevole) ; Axel (
fireveins) ; those who show up (full list to come!)
WHAT: Cowboy Night!
WHERE: The Warrior Princess
WHEN: Friday night
WELCOME TO THE WARRIOR PRINCESS.
[ooc: Hey guys! This is an open thread, and the reason I'm putting it up now is so that everyone who wants to participate will have a chance to do so at their leisure, and work
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But, of course, if he was going to choose someone to dance with to set the standard, then he was sorry, girls and boys: that someone was Gojyo. It was circumstance, partially, but circumstance meant a lot to a person like Schuldig, whose entire life had been predicated on lucky accident. Providence, a religious man would call it.
Simply put, Gojyo and Schuldig had starred for fucking years in porn together. They knew every rhythm of each other's bodies down to the very last drop. There was no move one of them could make that the other couldn't physically anticipate, just enough beforehand to adapt. It had become something of a science, actually; all that time showing up to work and getting naked and trying to make sure they each looked just as good as the other without outshining each other-it'd trained a second instinct into Schuldig, an instinct not just purely about bodies but also about Gojyo. Gojyo's body.
And dancing-well, dancing was what they did now instead of the porn, wasn't it? And even if it wasn't as often as it might've been-it should be more often, Schuldig thought, feeling the sudden rush of just being on the dance floor with Gojyo behind him-there were some grooves a body never un-grooved.
Schuldig was, in some ways, a natural follower; if a leader set the pace, then that was the partner for him. There was an art to following though, which required the intrinsic ability to surrender, and Schuldig could only surrender to a select few. He could've been a fucking rock star on the dance floor with anyone in this building, but with Gojyo it was a different story entirely. A whole. Other. Level. The difference between fucking amazing amateurs and the professionals.
Gojyo was warm, and Schuldig wished, briefly, that he wasn't wearing the heavy cowboy shirt; but whatever, it was part of the charm. He fell into the rhythm even before he was out on that floor, and as soon as he felt the shift in Gojyo-turn around and face me, baby-he was so there.
This way, they could look at each other's faces, look into each other's eyes. Eye contact was fucking important, okay? Even if you looked away, lost momentarily in the music, you always looked back; even if there was hair in your eyes, even if you were getting flushed and a little dizzy, that was the place you always came home to.
It was more intimate than the porn. It was all them, operating under their own directions, at their own pace.
"Fuck," he said. "I fucking love this song."
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For example, the instant that Schu turned around, Gojyo backed off a little. The reason? Because they had to be allowed to let loose some energy for a bit before they could move back towards one another, grinding for a bit, but then moving away again to repeat the motion. No matter how much you wanted to be near that other person, there was only so much dancing you could do pressed up against another body. That was the toning down part. Thus, when you moved away, you had to get all that energy out of your system so that being close was your resting period.
Sure, Gojyo would toss his head, make his ponytail sway, close his eyes, pump his fists, weave around, but he was really just getting into his own world where all that existed was the music, the floor, Surefire, and him.
That was the other thing amateurs just couldn't do - they were always too conscious of everything else, the people watching, the song changing, how much they were drinking or smoking, or even what time what it was. None of that mattered to Gojyo, to Neroli. His whole body was at work - arms up in the air, head swaying this way and that, shoulders rolling in tandem or not, and hips shifting in every direction. Some of the time, his feet just dug into the floor, grounding the rest of his body, but then he'd get the urge to move around some more and he'd step forward or backward, cross and spin, or just bounce on the balls of his feet then the soles, back and forth.
Ah but grinding against Surefire was fun too. It wasn't like it was a challenge to figure out Surefire's rhythm, but it was fun anticipating it and matching the movements as a mirror image. Neroli's left hand kept seeking out Surefire's right hand, moving it to wherever felt right for the beats in the song - Neroli's shoulder, his hip, chest, even jawline - and that left the right hand to stay right at Surefire's hip and feel out the next movement - would it be a pop to the right? A roll forward? Time to separate again?
Even if Neroli shut his eyes, he made sure to catch Surefire's at least every few beats, and always flashing a smile, because hell if this wasn't just as amazing as the other night - in Neroli's mind, anyway.
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Once, Schuldig had teased him-"Shit, man, you like dancing better than sex sometimes, don't you?"-and after that it was never clear to Schuldig whether or not that sometimes was totally off the money or what.
He did, though. He fucking loved it. And it was one of the greatest highs of all, dancing with Sha Gojyo, just getting to be close to all this, and getting to look at his face.
So the question was: did the night before make this better, or what? A hand on Gojyo's chest, palm flat, skin on skin, fingers brushing soft lines, without real purpose. Some abstract pattern he didn't know, just to bridge the occasional distance between them. Fuck, man, you didn't show up not wearing a shirt and then expect not to be touched, but still; there was a certain electric jolt he got from the contact that he craved and was kind of terrified all at once, and it added this other thing to the dancing, vague and uncertain. Schuldig was barely skimming it, but the rest of his thoughts were focused on what his body felt, and anyway...
It was gonna be a long night. This shit was for fun, not thinking too hard. His hair was damp against the back of his neck, and Gojyo was dancing like nothing could catch up to them, and Schuldig was only too glad to be drawn along with each rock and each roll, fitting himself into that rhythm, making his home there. For however long the song lasted.
He didn't really want it to end.
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Go figure, they had an audience, and some of them were Gojyo's own kids - actually, all twelve of them were around, watching Neroli and Surefire. That made him shiver in excitement - or maybe that was Surefire touching his chest - hell, now this was a show, something else for his kids to watch and take notes on. They had to recognize "Schuldig" and "Shagojyo", not to mention the energy between them.
Neroli leaned in close when they were grinding again, not kissing Surefire but so, so very close. Then, he leaned back, encouraging Surefire to lean forward as well, before ducking to the ground as if he'd fallen, propped up on both arms and legs. Crouching low on his legs now, Neroli slinked his way back up Surefire's body, hands wandering everywhere - legs, thighs, waist, chest, arms, shoulders - and then cradled the other man's head in both hands, kissing him excitedly.
Neroli whispered softly as he pulled away, "All eyes on you, babe."
Then they were separated again as Neroli made his way around Surefire, freeing up the space around them. Every step was on beat and his hands were in the air, clapping in time. Yeah, he did a little bit of grooving, but nothing that would draw the attention from Surefire for the moment. As he walked past each of his kids, though, he gave them a look like, This is how you do it.
Two circuits later, Neroli was pressed against Surefire's back again and reached out for each of the other man's hands to twine their fingers, crossing both their arms over Surefire's chest, and lean back, low and strained, but holding Surefire up the whole while. Yeah, that got a few catcalls and whistles - how many people could bend backwards nearly at a 90-degree angle with another body on top of them without falling over?
The downside to that was that Neroli really was working himself into a frenzy, despite his best efforts, so Surefire could probably tell that now if he didn't know already.
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He just had to show 'em how it was done, didn't he?
Yeah. This was how you moved your hips, babies, and this was how you dipped, and that was what you could do with your ass even if you were a guy, okay? And this was how to toss your hair, and this was what you did with your arms so they didn't feel all awkward doing nothing, and this was how you made your whole fucking body work that floor like there wasn't a single part of it not in communication with the other parts. He was burning up, just like Gojyo said he would be.
Except Gojyo had said they were gonna burn up the dance floor, right? It was kind of a team effort. Even if there was the occasional solo, it always came back to the pair.
Song two. "Shit, I love this song," he said, tossing his head back, all warm and wishing, fuck, that his shirt was unbuttoned. Or something. "Fuck, you just get better and better at this. You've been practicing without me, right?"
Talking was, kind of, part of the rhythm; the back of his neck was warm; he was acutely aware of all the places they touched, the vibrant energy that radiated from Gojyo's skin. All so fucking warm. And the kiss, still a secret on his mouth while the second song kept playing.
There was being noticed and then there was being seen. Right now, people were watching; but only one person, he was pretty sure, was actually seeing him. Lost in the rhythm and the motions as he was.
Seeing him and feeling him, too. "Shit," he added, "baby," and what he meant was clear. Hard, huh? Okay, he could roll with that, shimmy a little closer. You know, just because he liked to be fucking difficult.
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If he wanted to be 'difficult', Neroli could play that game too.
And part of that game, now, was moving away to dance by himself for a bit, going a little crazy with the hips this time, before returning to face Surefire. Neroli made sure that their eyes met the whole while they were grinding, an extremely pleased smirk spreading across his face. His hands even went back to gripping Surefire's hips to make sure that their bodies were pressed close. Ah but sinistra wasn't satisfied with that and reached down to grab Surefire's ass instead, really rocking their bodies together in time to the music.
The cherry on top of it all? Neroli leaned in close and just hovered there, taunting Surefire as he licked his lips, I wanna kiss ya' but 'm gonna make you start it this time, babe.
Pity the second song was winding down now.
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Because, okay. Sure. He would be fucking jealous. But that was because Gojyo could dance like this, right, and any time he thought about Gojyo giving someone else this much fucking fun, he could also say, Who wouldn't be jealous?
Morons who didn't know what they wanted, that was who.
And then-Gojyo's hand. The bad hand. The one you could never escape and could never stop thinking about. "Baby," he warned, eyes flashing again. "I've only just started and you're gonna get me fired tonight, baby." If this was a game now-and suddenly it pretty much was, kind of a competition as much as it was a big damn show-then Schuldig could feel his heart race not just with the dancing but with the challenge. His lips brushed, momentary and brief, against Gojyo's, but teasing, just barely, before he drew away with everything but his hips. Then his hips, too. Being apart sucked, a momentary loss, but it was enough to come back to himself, to rein all the pleasures in. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes real bright.
"That's fucking naughty," he said, coming back close, drawn again into the field of gravity he couldn't quite resist. But it was fucking dangerous behavior here, too! He had a whole fucking night to work, into the early morning, damn it.
So naughty. Naughty was a good word for it.
And song three began.
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As they came together again, a sincere smile crossed Neroli's face. "Well, wouldn't wanna get ya fired, now would I?" It might have been happy coincidence, then, that the third song turned out to be a slow one - a real slam on the breaks from what they'd just been doing, but maybe that was why the DJ took so long to bleed the tracks together.
So yeah Neroli put his hands back on Surefire's hips, but they weren't tight-gripped or demanding this time - just a gentle touch, another place to touch the skin under that shirt. He let them just groove together, nice and slow, keeping eye contact the whole while now since he wouldn't be moving away until the song ended.
People started closing the circle back in again and Neroli knew that his time with 'Surefire' was drawing to a close for that evening; Schuldig had to be a bartender tonight, not Gojyo's personal dance partner. That was okay, though, because it was meant to be something fun for Surefire and something of an apology for Neroli. Then he remembered he hadn't actually said that yet and it wasn't like Surefire would know any other way, right?
So, as the song played through the bridge, Neroli pulled Surefire close and whispered in his ear, "Sorry 'bout earlier t'day. Fergive me?"
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And hell, there had to be some kind of competition when it came to dancing. Most of the time, a dance like that...it was for everybody else. It was just what Schuldig assumed, right, and it was why he was playing it up, and why Gojyo was playing it up, and why they were both breathing so hard and so quick right now.
So the slow song was a real change of place, and he was glad for the steady progression. If mood changed too sudden, you could find yourself mid-grind as the beat slipped. And that was the mark of a shitty DJ. Which-well, like Schuldig would allow that here, right? And certainly not for fucking Cowboy Night, which was important for all kinds of reasons, and one of them only Gojyo was privy to.
Schuldig slipped his arms around Gojyo's shoulders, almost-and maybe more than almost-glad for the moment of privacy. However private this sort of thing could be, but... Well. Relatively, anyway.
"Hey. The fuck are you apologizing for?" He was honestly surprised, eyes a little soft. "Don't even. You so don't have to, you know that, right?" After a moment's pause, he ran his fingers through Gojyo's hair, half-reassuring, half-fond. "Whatever. Really."
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He was still close to Schuldig and glad he was, because he shut his eyes just then and continued the thought silently as his hands subconsciously gripped just a little tighter. I thought I'd lost ... your friendship, your presence, your energy, you.
It had been... scary, really. For eleven years Gojyo had known nothing of discomfort. Then, from the time he waseleven until age eighteen, the whole world flipped on its head and was forever changing around him - first was how to stay alive, then where to live and which job to hold. No more friendships, no more family, no more church, no partner to work alongside for more than a one shot deal.
Now, four years later, something, someone was still around.
Except they almost weren't; Gojyo had panicked, thought - crazy as it was - that a little spat like that might somehow lead to the loss of an entire friendship.
"Sor- Okay, I won't say it anymore. Geez. I just... feel like an idiot, okay? And I wanted to make up for that. So... I guess call it even."
All the while, Gojyo's hands had been on the move like they had a mind of their own... only it wasn't anything 'naughty' this time; they made their way slowly up Schuldig's back, pulling them both closer as the hands pressed flat against Schuldig's shoulderblades.
To the naked eye... it would almost seem like they were...
Hugging.
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He gave it the boot, filed it away for later or, he hoped, never again. Instead, he was quiet for a little while longer, just swaying with the rhythm. Now this was the kind of song that he hoped would never end; for whatever reason, the comfort, the closeness, the easy fucking rhythm, the dancing and the companionship. Sure, the dance where you got hot and sweaty and all riled up was great, and yeah, he totally loved it, but there were two kinds of dances in this world and one of them was way rarer than the other.
And Gojyo touching him helped, soothing him along helped. When had things gotten so fucking tense between them?
That nurse, Schuldig thought, maybe she wasn't the healing type, huh? Maybe that whole doctor thing was medicine we so didn't need. But whatever. Couldn't undo what had already been done. No use crying over spilt milk. Etc. Etc. Etc. All those mantras he could stick to and just not fucking think about when things had got weird. That reason he didn't even fucking remember.
"Anyway, there's nothing to be even for," he said. "Unless the doctor is coming to repay the favor, but I'm working the late-late shift, you know, so unless he does house calls..." He laughed, a little. Nuzzled Gojyo's cheek like a cat.
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Especially at a club, there was no way for slow songs to last forever. Although, thankfully, the DJ managed to bleed it all the way out and give everybody a brief accouncement over the intercom rather than jamming it all the way back up again so soon.
"C'mon, yer friends'r waitin' - all fifty-three'a 'em." Of course Gojyo meant Badou and Curaforodi, but he could allude to the other patrons as well, who he was sure would be grateful to have their second bartender back.
With that his hands fell slowly down Schu's back until they rested on his hips again as Gojyo leaned back ever so slightly and kissed Schu on the cheek. "Always a pleasure t' dance with ya', babe." He did pull away completely then, but reached out with his right hand to lead Schu back over to the bar.
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