《 ｐａｒａｄｉｓｅ 》

ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ

[thrillvibin]

RULES – INFO – VERSES

independent, highly selective roleplay blog for Sasha of Thrill Switch's NIGHT/SHADE: You're the Drug. written by sammy (she/her; born 1994). nsfw content will be present 💚🎮—➤ interaction memes (always open!) < MINORS DNI > ⚠️ PLEASE READ the "disclaimer" found in my rules! thank you! ♡ Play NIGHT/SHADE !! (also on Steam!)

Sammy's Blog Roll:

Vincent Charbonneau (Dead Plate) || Martin Blackwood & Elias Bouchard (The Magnus Archives) || Ryunosuke Naruhodo (The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles) || Kaz Brekker (Six of Crows) || Leo Valdez (Heroes of Olympus)

[thrillvibin]

i cannot begin to express how often i think about the way sasha's behavior very noticeably changes with people he's . . . let's just say "scared of screwing things up" with (platonic or romantic [if he can get his head out of his ass and be committed enough to someone to be romantic, ofc])

bc he really is shameless and overt about most interactions. he keeps himself in settings with which he's comfortable and can therefore be confident, keeps himself in relationships (or lack thereof) that he knows how to navigate and therefore doesn't fumble over himself

but when he finds himself suddenly caring more, maybe realizing that a bond he shares with someone really matters and he doesn't want to lose it, he can get a bit timid and awkward. more subdued. shy, god forbid. less sure of himself and, in turn, more careful with his actions

—at least until he's positive this person likes him back and wants him around. then he's back to being a complete and utter menace, ofc 👍

[punkbites]

Jacks' charming smirk had something a little childlike whenever he talked about his dogs. Like a kid still excitedly telling everyone about their amazing pet, only that he was a grown man and it was four pets. Same difference, really.

"Right? These guys are the best buds a guy could ask for.. Uh and my band mates of course!" He waved a hand in dismiss, smirking to the side as if he expected Connor to jump out of his phone any moment.

The Punk caught that enthusiasm and couldn't help but smirk a little at that. Nice to know that things weren't gonna become awkward with Sasha. They already went through the worst parts and now it seemed like this was shaping out to be more than the ten minute bathroom break they took.

"Of course, hope you don't mind getting covered in fur. They shed like crazy no matter how much I brush them." Putting an arm around Sasha, he began to guide him down the alleyway towards his apartment complex all while swaying a little, almost causing the two to tumble downwards.

And during that walk, Jacks made sure to yap about his dogs, so Sasha had all the information he needed when they met the real deal.

"... And one day, I got out of paying for snacks because the cashier thought Mosh was too cute. See, I always thought I was the cuter one between us but that orange little fucker has me beat."

[thrillvibin]

At the back of his mind, Sasha heard a nagging voice. Or maybe just felt a judgmental stare from all the way across the city—as if his friend could see just exactly what he was doing right here, right now, despite being miles away. He knew it was never really . . . “smart” to eagerly go home with a guy he’d just met in a club, and most of the time, Sasha prided himself on being more careful. But it was different here. Or maybe that was just what he told himself, continuing to bat away the reprimands he knew Mishka would be giving him if he ever found out—

And why would he, honestly? Sasha would spend some time with Jacks (more than they already had), head back home, and life would go back to regularly scheduled programming. Mishka didn’t need to know.

Because nothing was or would be going wrong. (The guy just wanted to show him his dogs, for fuck’s sake!)

So, he successfully strangled any notes of caution born from an overprotective friend and, well, life as a dealer, quite frankly. As Jacks threw an arm around him and began leading them down the streets, Sasha wasted no time leaning his weight into him, as much helping Jacks’s staggering as he was his own. He processed the onslaught of information with equal parts shock at the new animated energy of his companion and pure amusement. One thing was for sure: The guy wasn’t shy about his passions, and he knew precisely what those passions were.

Sasha was, for maybe the umpteenth time, slightly envious.

“I’ve been covered in worse,” he’d managed to interject before Jacks went on his spiel, and then the only words (sounds, actually) Sasha successfully sneaked in for a while were little hums of understanding and laughs at the stories. His hand snaked over to find more stability, fisting in the wrinkles of Jacks’s shirt. “Man, if having a cute dog wins you free snacks, then I’ve been missing out.” Like he was remotely responsible enough for a whole-ass dog. “Sorry, dude, but I might need to borrow Mosh from you sometimes.”

[howthesleeplesswander]

Mishka sure spent a lot of time in clubs for someone who didn't even like them.

He was fine with the dancing and drinks, but it was the environment he preferred to avoid. Thundering music and flashing lights consumed them the moment they stepped inside, all of it so loud that he could barely hear himself think. Hundreds of strangers filled the space, with even more dark corners dotted between them.

Out on the street, nobody could catch him by surprise. There were ample escapes and ample cover; whichever he needed at the time. Even with all his training and experience, walking into these places still felt like losing his senses: blind from the sheer number of people and patches of darkness to watch at once, and deaf from music that obscured the sounds of bodies moving, fabric rustling, words whispering.

Which was why he remained firmly glued to Sasha's side during their journey to the bar, sharp eyes darting over his head to scan their path. The leg that hooked him was hardly necessary, but the encouragement of it made those deeply possessive parts of him preen in delight. A gentle laugh was lost to the music. Slotting between Sasha's stool and the next, he kept an arm slung low around his waist, idly toying with the bunched fabric above his waistband.

"More like it's why you're full of shit," Mishka teased back, but it didn't land when his voice was so full of affection. No, Sasha's little ploy was much more effective, and the assassin rolled his eyes as the bartender set about making the intentionally gross order. But Sasha posed an all-important question before he could comment.

He couldn't help but hesitate, however briefly. There hadn't been any complications with his latest target (unlike the last time or two), and he'd already told Dima where he could shove it if he so much as thought about contacting him tonight. It should be as safe as it ever could be for him to indulge.

"Yeah, yeah," he assured. "Your drink doesn't even count when it's that much alcohol—" his free hand pinched his thumb and index finger the tiniest width apart, "—to a whole glass of other shit." Still, the moment the bartender set Sasha's drink down, Mishka snatched it first and took a long sip...only to make a scrunched face. "Yep, that's just liquid sugar." After pushing the glass towards his companion, he dipped down to murmur (or what volume could pass for it, in this place) in Sasha's ear, "Somehow, though? You're right: you taste even sweeter than that."

Only then did his gaze lift to the waiting bartender. "I'll take a vodka soda—heavy on the vodka." He gave Sasha a pointed look as the bartender gathered more ingredients. "See? You can get something with soda and actual alcohol." Regrettably, he retracted his arm so he could retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. "I'm not paying for that, by the way." With a nod to Sasha's glass, his expression clearly read: you know what you did.

[thrillvibin]

“Yeah, well, no one actually likes the taste of alcohol, y’know,” Sasha quipped back as Mishka admonished his choice, batting at the hand gesturing between them. “It’s just a bragging right when you drink it straight, but come on. . . .” Those last two words were as much skepticism as they were a plea when his cocktail was snatched right out from under his nose. He made an effort to show affront, but it did a startling little when he was still smiling. “That’s for depressed, lonely guys who want to forget they exist for an evening. We’re just having fun.”

Not to mention, he figured that type of person didn’t frequent places like this. No, that’s what regular-ass bars were for.

Having been returned the right to his own drink, though, he took a long, appreciative sip to really sell his point. And he would have argued more on that topic—simply for the thrill of being as uncooperative as possible—had Mishka not leaned in closer just then. Breath hit his ear more starkly than the words it carried, but he still caught them. Sasha barked a laugh. “Ewww,” he complained through a wide grin. His elbow came up to nudge Mishka’s chest in some misplaced, obviously feigned reproach. But Mishka knew what he’d done. Hell, he always knew.

That statement on top of the hand noticeably fiddling about the fabric on his lower back were all it took for Sasha to feel a shiver roll through his spine, for a tingling warmth to collect in his face. And, without another word to it, a finger hooked one of Mishka’s belt loops. Tugged. Quiet promise, maybe, before he brought his hands back to himself to nab a straw from a nearby container.

“Hey, chat; check out who’s not being boring tonight,” he observed as Mishka ordered something for himself. Sasha quirked a provocative brow, but just as he successfully unwrapped his straw and plopped it into his cocktail, impish behavior dissolved into petulance. “Aww, man— What?” Oh, yeah: he, too, knew what he did. But that didn’t stop him from throwing a fit over it. “You still got to try it, you jerk! It’s not my fault your tastes suck.” He leaned forward, taking a drink through his grumbling while he pawed around at his own pockets. As he tossed his card out to the bartender, Sasha squared Mishka again. “You are so mean to me.”

[punkbites]

Jacks gave a drunk little chuckle at that response. Because he had no doubts that Sasha would earn himself a couple of titles alright. Who knew? Maybe this one night stand didn't have to stay one.

And since they weren't parting yet, Jacks was already thinking about teasing the other some more and become the biggest, drunkest playground bully in the history of NY but Sasha's words made him snap back to a whole different topic.

"Oh yeah I got four dogs!" He reached inside the pocket of his pants, to retrieve the phone he had just used to traumatize his drummer with. Clumsily Jacks went to his image folder and found a picture with him surrounded by all his dogs.

A Siberian husky, a corgi, a doberman and wolf dog. His finger moving along the screen to give Sasha some context.

"This is Razer, that's Mosh, this one is Ace and the big guy is Riff." Suddenly he seemed a tad more sober as his brain was hyperfocussed one one of his favorite topics. His fur babies.

"...You wanna meet 'em?" Usually he wouldn't invite a one night stand to his place. Lord knows he had too many crazy encounters but he felt pretty comfortable with Sasha.

[thrillvibin]

Right before Sasha’s eyes, he saw Jacks’s demeanor change. The playful snarkiness on his face melted into something softer, unabashedly fond, and while he rifled through his pocket, Sasha stole that moment to take him in under that new light. It coaxed out a small smile of his own, one lacking the usual impishness that embraced an otherwise lazy smirk. Only when the bright screen shined up in his eyes did he finally look away, down at past Jacks grinning at him, surrounded by four equally cheerful dogs.

“Aw!” He shimmied closer, cheek pressing to Jacks’s shoulder. “Sick names! They’re so cute.” Four whole dogs was no joke, too, and maybe a tiny part of him felt a little bit guilty that he’d originally thought Jacks to be the more . . . irresponsible type. (But the guy was in a band and took care of four animals, so . . . ’nuff said.)

When a quiet invitation chased after, Sasha blinked a temporary surprise. He straightened some, weight leaving Jacks’s side as he canted his head to look at him curiously, like he’d somehow heard him wrong. But—another “somehow”—barely another second was wasted before he grinned again. “Yeah!” That energy sobered into something more humble after the fact, however. “I mean . . . if that’s cool, then— Yeah, I’d like that.”

[punkbites]

"Hot-Topic?? Bitch all my shit is DIY!" He feigned being offended before giving Sasha a light little punch on the shoulder, that telltale shark smirk of his never fading once. Good to know Sasha could dish out as well as he could take Jacks' verbal jabs.

Just to dwell on it a bit longer did he point at the various patches on his vest, stitched messily to the fabric underneath. "Here, I made these myself and this one is straight up a pic of one of my dogs. You won't find this stuff anywhere. Besides, Hot Topic sold out the moment they started selling mainstream shit."

Well, at least he got some recognition for his porn star idea. Even if he was just considered a part timer, he would take it. What actually send him off the edge where the names Sasha came up with.

"Holy shit, these are epic song names." He pressed out between his teeth as he couldn't hold back the chuckle that came out as an amused snort.

"Jacks the Stripper is my favorite, hands down. If music doesn't work out for me, I know what I'm gonna be doing instead. I bet people would eat that shit up." He then eyed Sasha up and down, rubbing his chin.

"So what does that make you, huh? Slutty Sasha? Lil' Minty Boy? Sash--ahhhhh?" Not as witty as Sasha's but he was proud of those.

Leaning in close, he leaned his weight on the other just to be a bit more obnoxious as he purred out his stripper name ideas, words still a bit slurred from the alcohol running through his system.

[thrillvibin]

It might’ve been a weird thing to say, considering Jacks was literally inside him not ten minutes ago but honestly, it wasn’t all that often Sasha felt this immediately comfortable around someone. Well . . . comfortable in this particular way, maybe, and not just the “quickie in the bathroom with a stranger before we both split and never see each other again” sort of vibe. It felt easy, suddenly: the unabashed laughter, the playful punch to the shoulder, a natural rhythm between them—

Enough so that when Jacks was leaning back into him, impish remarks fluttering over Sasha’s ear and neck, the heat from before gave way to more of a delighted bubbliness, one that had him snickering and hunching that shoulder against the assault.

“Hey, keep it up,” he beamed, playfulness of his tone mingling with something more provocative. “Maybe I’ll earn myself a few other names later down the line . . . if you’re lucky.” Briefly, Sasha stuck out his tongue. He finally stole a closer look at the patches Jacks had pointed out moments ago. And even if his current position gave him a bit of a difficult angle to see, he showed no sign of moving.

It was pretty cozy there tucked to the guy’s side.

“Hold up . . . one of your dogs? How many do you have?”

[palmer]

Men with earrings are sluts because it shows they’ve been Penetrated and intend to again.

[punkbites]

The reaction to his band's name made Jacks smirk. "It's good, right? We were wrecking our brains for days until we saw something on T.V that gave us the idea. No Kings, no Masters, no Leaders." He recited that last part with a fake salute to really sell the vibe he and his band were going for.

The Punk fell silent for a bit to let Sasha read through the flyer. The other didn't look or sound like Punk Rock was really his thing but hey, if he said he was gonna listen to about anything, then who was Jacks to judge? As long as they had a good time, it didn't matter.

"What did you think I was doin' for a living?"

He eventually asked, his smirk growing a little. Oh he had heard it all. Drug Dealer, Meth lab, Hooligan... Was Hooligan even a job? Whatever, people had called him all kinds of things so far. Yet he never got tired of hearing what people thought. Especially those who's thoughts mattered to him.

"Porn star, right? Has to be, after my performance." He took another lazy drag from his cigarette, clearly taking the piss. Though he definitely would not mind the ego boost from getting labeled a porn star.

[thrillvibin]

“So, sitting on your ass watching TV can have its benefits,” he crooned, as if he now had the perfect argument the next time someone (usually Mishka) called him out on being lazy. Ignoring the fact that any inspiration he got from mindlessly flipping through channels usually pegged him as a victim of capitalism, but hey: sometimes the ad agencies did a great fuckin’ job, okay? What else was he supposed to gain from that sort of crap?

As the conversation turned to Jacks’s profession, Sasha’s own grin morphed into something tinged with mischief, and another laugh leaked through. He’s got a point . . . But, naturally, living up to a bratty image, Sasha couldn’t help poking fun when he said, “Nah, I was thinking more, like, Hot Topic Employee-of-the-Month . . . ?” And there, like he was somehow only just now seeing him clearly, he canted his head, leaned forward to give him a thorough onceover.

“Maaaaybe a porn star on the weekends? Jury’s out.” He screwed up his face in thought. “What would your stage name be? Jacks Slammer? Jacks the Stripper?” The ridiculousness of it all was already twisting his lips back into an amused smirk. “Jacks in the Cocks?”

[thrillvibin]

@reiketsui || cont.

“Hey, it's not stupidity! It's skill, actually, and I'll thank you to—”

But whether or not Archer intends on cutting him off before more of that so-called skill could be boasted, he successfully shuts him up with a firm grip on his jaw. Sasha freezes. Miraculously still and silent in those lingering seconds when all the other does is stare.

And it's weird. Because it probably should've been intimidating. He probably should've considered Archer was one move away from snapping his neck if he really wanted to . . .

So, was it stupidity that Sasha trusted he wouldn't?

He feels heat crawl up his neck. He's holding his breath suddenly. But then he's shoved away, light flickers across that stern face after he's produced a cigarette, and Sasha is left momentarily dumbfounded.

The mention of food jostles him back to the present.

“You might!” he practically chirps, possibly way too satisfied with the situation. “I mean, if it really bothers you that much, who am I to stop you?”

[reiketsui]

“I consumed an entire stick of cotton candy in one bite yesterday.” He doesn't say it proudly. Or shamefully. He just announces it. “ . . . if you were wondering how my day went, since you didn't ask.”

// ಥ‿ಥ no i don't know how he hasn't died yet

" how stupid are you? " his expression remains unsettlingly still, a hand moving from underneath his chin to grasp onto sasha's jaw to gain his undivided attention. archer inspects him like he's a stone cold corpse laid out on the autopsy table, eyes narrowed and brows tugged into a tense frown.

when he finally lets him go, the executive shoves him away, breathing out a frustrated huff.

a cigarette is lit up, the flame of the lighter casting a heavy shadow to emphasize the annoyance on his face before flickering away. " do i have to cook for you again? " / @thrillvibin

[thrillvibin]

" you. come here. " >:(

@reiketsui || the gayest gasp

“Uh oh . . . am I in trouble?”

But he does say this in a way to suggest he's nothing short of tickled by the very idea . . . even if Archer's icy look works wonders in injecting that chill right down his spine.

“Huh. Well, that's not really motivating, now is it? I think I'm super good right here,” he drawls, chin in his hands, feet kicking gleefully. “Where are your skills in persuasion . . . ?”

[thrillvibin]

“Oh, thank god you're here— That was a close one.”

Despite the urgency of the texts he'd been sending, though, Sasha is sprawled lazily across his couch, feet up on the backrest, torso halfway off the edge of it. Nearly upside-down, he looks over at his savior . . . and then gestures to the other side of the room.

“Could you pass me the remote?”

[punkbites]

He felt his head clear a little from the cold air and nicotine. A smirk tugging at his lips when Sasha rightfully mentioned how shit paperwork was. "Right? Didn't do that shit in school, ain't gonna do it now." He took another drag, letting the question linger for a moment.

"Ehh.. I guess. We went without a manager though. Didn't want some Andy from Marketing commercialize our music with his shitty takes.. We're still lookin' for one we vibe with but until then Connor takes care of this shit." Jacks made a vague gesture at nothing in particular with the cigarette, causing the smoke to form cryptic scribbles in the air.

"Pretty sure you just got the VIP treatment in the bathroom." He winked before a laugh was snorted out, causing the smoke to crawl from his nostrils and mouth.

After that did he reach into his pocket, rummaging through them for quite a while until he found a flyer that had been folded and half crumpled many times. So Jacks ran his hand over the paper a few times to get the worst of the crumpling out.

"Feel free to come to one of our gigs, I can introduce you to my buddies. No VIP badge needed." He handed Sasha the flyer of an underground club called The Pit. Advertizing Pit Nights with No Man's Anthem playing and drinks half off.

"You into Punk Rock?" Jacks leaned half against the wall, arms slightly folded over his chest. Suddenly the words that had been missing before came to him. Something about good sex in a public bathroom sure made it easier to get to know people.

[thrillvibin]

“Makes sense.” Of course, this was said with the cadence of a guy who didn’t usually press when things didn’t make sense—not due to any lacking interest and more of that universal avoidance most people had toward looking dumb. He supposed having some uptight, business-suit–wearing manager only worried about enforcing popularity of someone’s creative craft would be a pain in the ass, but still . . . God, Sasha didn’t know the first thing about what sort of paperwork went into keeping a band on its feet, but it already made something in him squirm.

More importantly, though, and commercialized or not, the fact that Jacks was in a band still mystified him, had him looking at him in a new light beyond just being genuinely impressed by his playing an instrument at all. (Sasha was convinced he personally didn’t have the patience for a skill like that; how did people get good at something without being wholly discouraged by the time spent sucking first?) Maybe he admired that grit.

And when Jacks cast him a playful wink, Sasha couldn’t deny a little bloom of warmth in his face as he grinned back.

He claimed the flyer with a curious tilt of his head, eyes scanning the contents over a few times while Jacks kept talking. A soft snort led into his actual response: “Dude, you can offer me cheap drinks and I’ll listen to just about anything.” His fingers futzed with the crinkled corners of the paper before folding it back over again. “But, for real, though: it sounds awesome. ‘No Man’s Anthem’? Who’d you have to kill to claim a name like that?”

[thrillvibin]

#me when i see someone i know anyone in public

[punkbites]

Jacks smirked, surprise playing in his features. Not only was Sasha willing to keep hanging out but he had an amazing sense of humor. Maybe he should have answered the phone while fucking. But that might have killed his friend on the other end.

"Heh, good idea." Jacks gladly let Sasha guide him back out. Once more he found himself chasing that turquoise spot of color in that ocean of many other colors. The nice buzz was still there and he was energized enough to cause some trouble.

"NAH!" Jacks called back over the sound of the music. "I GOT ALL NIGHT. THIS CAN WAIT TILL TOMORROW!" He tapped the pocket of his jeans that held the phone which was most likely going to remain quiet for the rest of the night.

"LET'S DITCH THIS JOINT!" Jacks waited to see whether Sasha was feeling the same before the two of them exited the club to be back outside where a bunch of people were gathered for smoke breaks or waiting for someone.

"The guy who called--" Jacks started, reaching into his pocket for a package of cigarettes. He pulled one out and offered one to Sasha as well while he lit the one between his lips.

"-- Was my band mate. He's taking care of some annoying paperwork stuff and just doesn't want to do it alone. I mean I get it, but I don't care about this shit and he does sooo.." Jacks inhaled the smoke in a long drag before exhaling a thick cloud.

".. He gets pissy." Jacks shrugged his shoulders, giving Sasha a smirk. Since they had gotten to know each other's body so intimately, might as well share some personal information. Not like they were going to remember most of this tomorrow.

[thrillvibin]

The night air was a welcomed chill after the club and, well . . . everything else. Sasha was sure it wasn’t even cold out, but it felt as if he’d been blasted by the refrigerated section at the liquor store the instant they set foot outside, and he breathed it in on a contented sigh. As Jacks veered off to an empty place the two of them could stand away from the bustling crowd still surging around the club, Sasha stuck close to his side. He leaned against one of the walls, waved off the offer of a cigarette with nothing more than a flutter of his fingers.

But he watched Jacks enjoy the vice. His eyes traced the swirls of smoke as they rose into the sky, then back down to the mouth releasing them. Sluggishly, his brain caught up to what that mouth actually said.

“Ew. Paperwork. Two of my least favorite things in one word,” he grumbled, taking a moment just then to paw around his own pockets and make sure he had all of his things. Curiosity drove him to take a peek at his phone, too: see if anyone had been missing him. He was weirdly relieved as he was disappointed when he found his notifications absent. 

Cocking his head again to look at Jacks, “Isn’t that sort of stuff, like . . . what you have a manager for?” But, again with the sluggish brain activity, it was only at that exact second that Sasha pieced a couple of obvious things together, and with a near-jolt of realization, he blurted, “Wait, you’re in a whole-ass band?” He leaned forward, better catching Jacks’s eye with his own mystified look. “Do I get to steal some VIP treatment next time you guys perform?”

[gruesomegf]

there are literally worse things than being in a saw trap like for instance openly expressing that you have wants and needs and are a real person

[punkbites]

"Heh ... "

He had to laugh at that remark, looking at the stall door like it had been a worthy opponent in a battle. "Guess this thing is sturdier than it looks." He was still catching his breath, taking a deep one before he ran a hand through his hair, simply smearing the sweat through his Mohawk now.

Damn that was good. Too good for it to be a one night stand.

"Did you just say 'darn' unironically?" Jacks snorted out a chuckle in return as he was fiddling with himself to get the condom off and into the trash, followed by tucking mr. alien back into his pants. Surely the most creative name ever given to someone's privates.

When the phone was mentioned did the Punk pull it out of his pocket. 13 missed calls. Damn.

"Yeah, one sec."

He leaned against the wall of the stall, calling said person back who answered immediately. The voice on the other end was a male voice and he sounded pissed.

"Where the fuck have you been??"

"You don't wanna know." Jacks smirked, zipping his pants up.

"Uhhh yes?? I kinda fucking do!"

"No you really don't wanna know, man. Trust me."

"I swear to god Jacks if you don't tell me where the fuck you've been..."

"You want an honest answer?" Jacks looked at Sasha, still smirking.

"Yes! God damnit!"

"I was balls deep inside a really hot dude. Just finished, actually." Jack stuck out his tongue, clearly enjoying messing with whoever was on the other end.

"......"

"Do you want the details ooor?..."

"Jesus fucking Christ just call me back later."

And with that the important call was over. So Jacks put the phone away again. Something about post nut clarity made him wanna fuck with people in the annoying sense. It also made him realize that now was the moment of this being a one time thing or not. This shit was always kinda awkward.

"Hey, you wanna give breaking the door another shot sometime?" He was drunk as shit and not really in his best form when it came to making new friends.

And in that moment said door came off the hinges and fell to the floor with a loud crash!!

"... or just hang out I guess."

[thrillvibin]

So, then came the fun part: first of all deciding if he could walk steadily enough to be convincing; second of all deciding which was the least shitty option of cleaning himself up: toilet paper that was somehow thinner than tissue paper or the scratchy paper towels that could just as well work as a lethal weapon (papercuts were no joke, for real). While Sasha listened to Jacks’s response—paying no mind to the way his friendly chuckle warmed something in his chest—he opted for the former choice, dutifully unrolling what was practically a pile of the stuff to have any success in wiping himself off. He tossed the sullied paper into the garbage mere seconds before Jacks finally addressed the incessant buzzing, and as Sasha listened to half of the conversation, he cozied himself up in his joggers again.

For those few moments, he simply stood there—somewhat awkwardly, somewhat attentively, having come down from that pleasured high enough to grasp his bearings again, look at Jacks from a new perspective. He soaked in his features, and as a playful tongue crept between the guy’s teeth, Sasha grinned in return. By the time the call was over, he barked out a laugh.

“You shoulda just answered while we were fucking,” he suggested, shrugging lamely. “That’s free porn right there; no download or virus risk necessary.” And there in the afterglow, much like Jacks, Sasha was momentarily left wondering whether to just . . . peace out or say anything more. He knocked a fist against his thigh, his other hand lifting to brush over the side of his neck (and a prominent bruise that coaxed a content flush to his face), but before he could utter another word or make a step to leave—

Well, not only did Jacks beat him to it . . . Apparently they’d spoken too soon about their failed efforts.

Sasha stiffened while he watched the door clatter to the ground, a minuscule yelp of surprise leaking out. He stared, dumbfounded, then snorted. “Yeah, uh— Yeah, but maybe let’s sneak out before someone knows that was us.” And he, without another thought, grabbed hold of Jacks’s arm to lead him out of the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, his legs wobbled some, but that only had him clutching somewhat tighter as they reentered the fray.

Now having to speak over the booming music, Sasha leaned in closer to Jacks’s ear. “Are you stickin’ around a bit longer?” God, his voice was going to be gone tomorrow. (Which just meant he’d had a great time the night before.) “Or do you gotta . . . y’know—?” A pointed dip of his chin toward Jacks’s pocket. “Duty calls?”