The hotel room was dim, lit only by some muted channel on the television and the occasional flash of passing city lights bleeding in through half-drawn curtains. The air was filled liquor and unspoken things. On the low table, an abandoned glass teetered dangerously at the edge, ice long since melted.
And Ruin was swaying. Bottle of wine in his hand, laughing with the band without a care in the world. It wasn't the kind of drunk that makes a scene, but the kind that simmered, slow and syrupy. His shirt hung open, his chest glistening faintly with sweat, and his hair was a mess of loose strands over his eyes.
Sebastian had said something, but Ruin didn't respond. At least, not with words. His hand came up slowly, sliding along Sebastian's throat, fingers curling around the sides of his neck with a touch that was paradoxically tender. His thumb ghosted the line of his jaw before his head dipped, breath warm, lips brushing just beneath the sharp jut of Sebastian's collarbone. He kissed him there, a small, yet tender little peck. Ruin's mouth lingered there a bit too long, and when he pulled back, he didn't open his eyes; he just leaned closer.
" Don't worry. I ain't that drunk. "
Oh, he definitely was, to the point that the band ( as well as Sam and Abby ), were surprised by what just happened.
A fantastic show deserved a party, he supposed. Not like Luxury Damage ever said no to one.
It was funny how much alcohol could change a person. Ruin went from dark and brooding to the veritable life of the party once he had enough in him (which never took long, he noticed). Laughing, showing affection, sincerely looking like he was enjoying himself. Sebastian may never understand it, given his abstinence, but it was still amusing to watch.
He was used to being the 'DD', anyway. Sam and Abby were certainly no strangers to it, themselves. Someone had to be the responsible one.
Hence why he was tucked away from the general ruckus, leaned comfortably against a wall and simply keeping tabs on everyone. Thank goodness he had an extra set of eyes in Pitch, this time. Rytm and Ruin together drunk just by themselves took supervision, let alone his friends. Arms were loosely crossed, donned in a semi-loose t-shirt this time just so there wouldn't be any problems.
At least, there weren't until Ruin started making his way over to him.
Fucking christ. Even as a disheveled mess, with a drunken sway, he still looked painfully beautiful. His pale locks tussled from movement and combed fingers, the light of the TV faintly glinting off the sweat on the skin of his half-open shirt, grey eyes maybe a bit glassy but still alert enough to keep focused on him. Bottle clutched in his hand his near constant companion tonight.
"Hey," he uttered, watching with a small bit of wariness in case he lost his balance somewhere. "Looks like you're having fun. Not used to that." His joke had been accompanied by a relaxed smile.
Or, it was, until he stopped right up close to him, feeling the tallest he'd ever been and, before he could utter another word, his voice and breath were caught by the rough feeling of his calloused hand cradling where no one else's had ever been. His skin alighting with the unfamiliar stimuli, what air he managed to exhale came out in a shudder as his jawline was traced with tenderness in mind.
Brown eyes stared up at his grey, a question deep in them as his body was frozen still, caught and held in place with but a surprisingly delicate touch.
And, then he leaned in. Down. Found the dip in the collar in his shirt, and...
Sebastian's mouth fell open with an audible gasp, shocked gaze directed up at the ceiling just for something to look at that wasn't their suddenly silent friends. Fuck, fuck, he could feel each wayward strand of his hair tickling against his skin, smell the wine's aroma all but encompassing him, feel the warmth of his breath and undeniably intimate pressure of his lips in his kiss.
And, dear god, when he thought he'd get a reprieve from him regaining himself and moving back, he only seemed to lean in even closer, head tilted towards him like he was going for the full--
A sharply drawn breath and hands somehow managing to gently push him back with hands to his chest (fuck, his skin was so warm and soft and slick--), all but panting for air and clarity, head having pressed back against the wall, his face as red as it could possibly be.
"Y-you're... so drunk..." he stuttered, trying to repeat that over and over in his mind before it was too full-up with the older man to think straight. Ruin's hand still being where it was, his heart ramming under the now heated spot where he'd been so close to it (wondering if he'd felt it), kept Sebastian's body jolted with electricity. A fleeting thought wondering how they'd feel over the rest of him, so soft and rough all at once--
"You should... uh, go sit down, huh?" A hard swallow. "Don't want you falling over and breaking your hip..."
Maybe a joke like that would break the spell. Fuck, he hoped so.
