•Simply, Marco•

There’s as many atoms in a single molecule of your DNA as there are stars in the typical galaxy. We are, each of us, a little universe.

[dolan-daily]

[price-julian-blog]

Julian & Marco:

[tra-le-stelle]

tra-le-stelle:

price-julian:

[His hand, extended as it was, had his attention, it warranted a pause and a moments worth of curious contemplation. Hand holding was something he categorised somewhat specifically and for a brief, but serious second, he genuinely considered taking it. But he didnt, stood, poised as always and excused himself from the table by tucking his chair back where it had been. The wine they’d bought, only three quarters drunk, sat sadly on a table that was cluttered with unused crockery. His need to eat was no longer something he was consciously thinking about, he was thinking about eating something, but he wasn’t sure what he had in mind could be categorised in the same way as satisfying hunger could.

He let his fingers, bare, apart from one single ring that sat on his index finger, tickled at the other mans; an acknowledgement of sorts, but they didn’t twine round his, instead he let his hand drop into the pocket of his trousers and he nodded forward. A silent follow me. His cleaner must have been in this morning for the apartment was spotless; a large rectangular glass vase, full with wide sprouted lillies, sat on the dresser next to his front door. Tossed were his keys and a thin elegant wallet, stripped was his jacket which he lazily draped over the dresser next to the vase.] Coat? Let me take it…[and that he did, ensuring he stroked out one of the accidental creases in its breast before hanging it on a coat stand.] Come through [he said with a smile that was as welcoming as it could be] Right, I should, should he says, have an absolutely fantastic bottle of chateu mourgaux somewhere [he’d walked into his living room now, evidence he actually lived there shown in a small doses, in the pair of glasses resting on the couch arm, a half smoked packet of cigarettes on the coffee table. He’d already loosened his tie, wiggling the knot down until he was able to remove it entirely and much like his other belongings, left by the door, tossed it without care onto the back of the couch. In the corner was a cabinet, full with bottles of spirits and liquors that he’d collected over the years and he retrieved a bottle] aha…she does still exist. Sit…sit. Let me grab some glasses [ and glasses he fetched, wide bottomed with thin barely there stems which he set down on the table and quickly filled to their middle with the wine.]

If you’d like something else just say, it’s not like my collection isn’t extensive. Must have been a mixologist in a past life…cheers [he finished as he collapsed into the couch, undeniably close to the other, intentionally so, that ensured their thighs weren’t grazing but were in fact touching. He handed him the glass, sipped from his own and exhaled softly[] she is good, she’s very good…I have no issues with their menu down there but [he pulled a face, sipped again and leant back, extending one arm over the back of the couch, lounging it across behind the others head, body now angled toward him] so what were we talking about? Sisters…no Italy…no I remember, your apparent shock to the fact that I, mister Price hardsss extraordinaire, could have ever been in a relationship. But to answer you, yes, yes I was. And if to answer your surprise, that’s why I’m not and haven’t been for a considerable amount of time. Far too messy. I’m quite content keeping my options open. [He smiled, realised he’d said a lot in a short space of time so happily stayed silent for a moment, let his free hand wander without apparent intention and rest on the others knee, which he gently kneaded as casually as an action such as could be.] But you, you’re quite intriguing. Young and exceptionally good looking, at a place like this? I thought this sort of thing was reserved for forty somethings with too much money and not enough time. Like myself. Why you? What’s wrong with you? [he smirked softly.]

Marco was unsure if he did something wrong or if Julian’s refusal of his hand is just who he was. He could allow himself to dwell on it, to think it over until his pleasant buzz has worn off but he doesn’t. He realizes that everyone hides secrets, even him. Maybe Julian will indulge him, maybe not. For now, he will go along. Rolling his lips together, he nods imperceptibly and then reaches for his wallet. The least he can do is leave a decent tip for the waiter and the busser for taking up valuable table space and not staying for dinner.

 The walk back to Julian’s didn’t long and it gave Marco the chance to think and sober up a little. The air outside was crisp and refreshing and it ruffled his dark hair. Nights like this made all his earlier worries melt away. Overhead the sky was clear and free of clouds and Marco could see the stars for the first time in a long time. He wondered if Julian liked to star gaze or if he would humor him and maybe sit on the beach listening to the sound of the waves with him. If Marco were more adventurous, he’d even think to go a bit further than just star gazing.

Julian’s apartment was much more lavish than his own and he slid his light coat off his shoulders before handing it to the other man and toeing off his shoes at the door. His brow rose as Julian mentions the bottle of wine and having sobered up, felt he could use another round, or two, of drinks. Sinking down onto the couch, Marco tucked a leg under himself and gave his attention to his gorgeous date for the evening.

“I think I much prefer this setting, however,” Marco can’t help but smile to himself as he sips his drink, “it’s much more, intimate.” He tries to remember where their conversation left off and he nods a little. “Yes, we were talking about you being in a,” he feigns a gasp, “relationship.” Marco likes how close Julian is and it’s evident as he turns a little more, intentionally touching his thigh with the back of his hand.

Marco shrugs a little at Julian’s comment about relationships being messy. He knows to the contrary that they can be fulfilling and wonderful. Of course you have to find that right person. Biting back a grin at Julian’s compliment, Marco takes another sip of his wine to wet his lips before thinking how best to answer his question. “Well, it’s not just forty somethings with too much money, you know,” he reaches up, placing a hand gently on the other man’s arm and giving it a light squeeze before letting go. Sometimes Marco tends to get touchy when he’s had a few drinks and hopefully Julian won’t mind much. “I needed an escape from dancing, from when I get too caught up in my head...and the only thing that can help me come back is time with a beautiful stranger... Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me? As solitary as I might seem, I enjoy the company of others, even for one night.” He finishes off the last of his wine, watching Julian as he does so. “Does that sate your curiosity, Dear Julian?” He resists the urge to stroke his fingertips across the man’s jaw.

[fuckosexual]

i’m in a long distance relationship with the stars

[price-julian-blog]

Julian & Marco:

[tra-le-stelle]

tra-le-stelle:

price-julian:

[Julian offered a knowing snort, nodded in admission, from behind his tilted wine glass] Oh well sibling rivalry was rife in my household. [He picked up the bottle of wine from its neck, lent forward just enough that he could meet the rim of the other’s glass and with a flick of his wrist began to top the glass up, way past the middle belt of glass, closer to the rim before he stopped and put the bottle back down] So your sisters a dancer too then hm? Does she do it professionally too? [He topped up his own glass upon finishing the sentence, once more settling back into his seat, parting his legs just that little bit more beneath the table] My sisters…my younger sister, I’d say were fairly close yes. She lives in Dubai with her husband, so we don’t see each other all that often but she’s a journalist, very smart, enviably so, I try and see her a couple of times a year. My older sister though, half sister, we have different mothers [a pause] I’m sure she’d tell you differently, but I can’t stand the bitch. An overweight, idiotic, nightmare of a woman..And her grotesque bank broker husband, third husband, is arguably just as bad. [He sips his wine once again, smirks] maybe that’s the wine talking. 

[Julian’s brow arches, its rather harsh actually, without that being his intention] Well sweetheart, that really depends on what you want to consider a commitment. I’ve made my company millions. So I’m committed to them. I have two dogs. I’m committed to them. I go to the gym five times a week. I’m committed to that. [He offers a small, half playful smirk] Any way…doesn’t matter does it? [He chuckles ever so softly, lets his glass rest in the give of his parted fingers. But suddenly chooses to lean forward so the space between them isn’t that obvious any more] Best meal? Hmmm…probably in Sicily actually. Dated a native. Caught me a fish. Made it for me on his boat. But enough about food…I don’t actually think I’m all that hungry any more and I know I have better wine and a better view from my apartment. Fancy fucking this off, coming back to mine? 

Yes, my sister is a professional dancer as well but she is still in Italy. Probably a good thing one of us chose to stay close to home or our mother would have had a heart attack. Besides, she’s always been the favorite. [He’s embarrassed to admit this but the drinks have made the confession easier. Marco can’t help but chuckle a little as Julian describes his other sister.] Seems fitting that you wouldn’t care for her much. [Again he laughs a little, mostly due to the alcohol.] Just the drinks or pent up resentment? [He leans forward, one dark brow arching slightly, almost egging the man on to confess more. He almost wants to push Julian a little more, maybe ask him if he’s ever been in a committed relationship but they aren’t on that level...yet.] Well, I suppose those things do count as a commitment then and it matters if those things are important to you. [Marco’s eyes move slowly over Julian’s face, chewing his lip slightly.] You dated someone? [For some reason this eclipsed the bit about going fishing and cooking it for dinner. Marco almost chokes on his drink as Julian asks him back to his place. He’s not really that hungry, come to think of it. He looks around, taking in how dead the restaurant is and suddenly he’d rather be anywhere else.] I think that sounds like a wonderful plan. [A sly grin spreads across his face as he slides out of the booth and extends a hand out to Julian.] Well, show me this spectacular view from your place.

[price-julian-blog]

Julian & Marco:

[tra-le-stelle]

price-julian:

We’ll have to see…[Julian smirked, let the silence at the end of his sentence hang there for a moment or two before he bought the glass to his mouth again, sipped. But he knew, right then, that there was no deliberation needed if what they were both deliberately not saying, was to happen at the end of the meal. 

He nodded though, once, almost sternly as he once again brought the glass back down to the table and carefully folded his arms over his chest] I do…I do, I’d like to go a bit deeper than Italian dancer if that’s okay with you. 

[ And he was glad that the other started to speak. Perhaps it was the alcohol that was freely being consumed by the both of them, but he was speaking freely, openly, offering a side to himself to Julian with a type of confidence that Julian couldn’t help but smile at.] Yeah? I’ve got two sisters actually…well, one of them is my half sister. Great aren’t they? Sisters.. Oh but Jesus [he said with a soft snort, a playful sound] you worked in Leeds? You poor, poor soul. [He smirked, a joke, a part of England he’d always sigh at the thought of commuting to. 

By now, three glasses of wine, almost four having been sipped and savoured a little too quickly on an empty stomach, had started to do their job in blurring the conventions that existed before into something that was far, far simpler. He sat forward, easy open, resting on one bent elbow] Twenty questions? Goodness, that sounds like a commitment. But fine, go on then, kick us off. [He smiled, moved his leg forward, let his knee, ever so, ever so slightly brush past the other’s] 

[Marco has always loved his sister as much as a younger brother could. At first there was no competition between them because Sofia hadn’t counted on Marco taking the art seriously. She assumed it was all a passing interest and that by the following week, month, her brother would move onto something else. When he became more serious and their parents showed him more attention, the sibling rivalry became something of an issue. Only when Sofia moved out, became her own person, did the two mend their relationship. Of course, it took a handful of years for this to happen.]

Sisters...they can be fun, yes, when they aren’t trying to push you down the stairs or trying to sabotaging your chances at an audition. [He smiles to himself.] It’s not nearly as awful as it sounds, anymore. Were you, are you close to your sisters at all?  [Marco looks up at Julian as he gives his sympathy and laughs to himself. Maybe he knows something about the city that he’s yet to learn?] What is so wrong with Leeds? Please indulge me. [Leaning against the table, he’s aware of the brush of Julian’s knee against his and he can almost feel his body heat between those thin layers of fabric and Marco’s body warms. This time it’s not just his face that flushes and he shifts a little in his seat.] I take it you’re not one for commitments? [Marco teases, lifting the glass of cool water to his lips, taking a slow draw. He lets the wetness of the water linger on his lips before his tongue slips out to lick them and he thinks of a question. Something easy at first, unassuming.] What was the best meal you’ve ever had?

[price-julian-blog]

Julian & Marco:

[tra-le-stelle]

price-julian:

[He couldn’t quite tell, given it was early days, whether the others loose, flirty demeanour was something of a habit or something that the alcohol he’d already consumed was willing him to behave in this way. And as the other’s hand came forward and curled over his own he flicked his eyes down, stared at the contact for a moment or two before using the others removal as an excuse to pick up his own hand and pick up his wine glass] Looks to me if you’d already started on the vino my love [His face stayed semi serious as he bought the glass up, took a large mouthful before setting it back down again. That’s when his face softened, turned into a small but sincere smirk. He decided he liked this, whether it was the alcohol in the other or not. It was sweet.] I guess…I guess I’ve got some serious catching up to do hm? 

[As Marco spoke he sat back in his own chair, mimicked the other’s posture in all its fluidity; took his glass again between two fingers, bought it up to his lips and sipped as he listened.] mmm no, no I can’t think of an occupation that would be harder. Physically I mean. Maybe I should get you an espresso martini instead of wine? I wouldn’t want you falling asleep on me. The night is far too young. [Julian smiled, had to fight back a smirk that may have seemed patronising at the other’s eagerness to please. It was, after all, ever so endearing] Well, here’s hoping. I was actually hoping you’d have a few ideas of your own on that front, but if not, I’m sure the wine will do its job just fine. 

[He could flirt with the best of them. Julian swallowed another mouthful] But Marco, Marco…tell me a bit about yourself. So far, I know you’re a dancer and a good one at that, I know you’re Italian and I know you’ve got a fabulous taste in shirts. But I want more. So much more. Please…divulge. 

[Marco takes a breath to steady the beating of his heart. The last thing he wants is to push Julian away by getting out of hand so he opts to sip at the glass of water that sits untouched at the end of the table.] Oh, I wouldn’t dare to fall asleep on you, you have my full attention. Maybe I should slow down? [His eyes fall to the place ware before him and though he made the small gesture of touching Julian’s hand, he wonders if maybe that was crossing the line. Marco smiles to himself, clearing his throat and then glances back up across the way to Julian.]

Well, maybe we can start with appetizers and then after than, dinner? Then...from there...we will have to see. [Again, he smiles wide and he feels the blood rushing to his face. Lifting a hand, he presses his palm to his cheek and he’s so glad that it’s a bit dark in the restaurant.] You want to know more about me? [Marco is always surprised to hear this. He’s always felt he was too complicated to know. That it was pointless telling someone about his past when they weren’t destined to stay.] I’m from Italy, yes, and I’m a dancer [he laughs]

Hm, let’s see...I have an older sister, Sofia, who is a dancer as well. Actually, it was her who got me interested in it, sort of. When I was very little our mother would force me to go watch her practice. At first it was boring but then I became enamored with the art so my mother enrolled me in classes at La Scala Ballet School. For a while it was amazing- I loved it. I met so many wonderful people and performed in many different productions when I was offered a position at Northern Ballet in Leeds... [Marco’s voice goes quiet. He hesitates to ever tell anyone about his love life so it’s heavily guarded and kept under lock and key.] Perhaps a round of twenty questions would prove to be more fun? [He cocks a brow, tempting his date to have a little bit of fun but also to change the subject.]

[price-julian-blog]

Julian & Marco:

[tra-le-stelle]

price-julian:

[He lowered himself into his seat opposite the other with a warm, gentle smile that just about smoothed out those lingering lines of todays stress from the corners of a mouth that had been pursed too tightly for too long today. And he glanced to the side, took in what Marco had insisted he take into consideration. He nods, never quite having agreed with so many others when it came to British Coast line, but the other was right, the moon tonight was playing just so against the soft, for once tame, tide of southampton’s coast] I mean…its not quite the Amalfi is it? But it’ll do…for now. [He grinned now, motioning over a server with a quick almost absent wave] but here I am, telling you about a beautiful coast in your own home country. Yes, apparently even I’m that arrogant. [Julian half chuckled, cutting the sound short so he could ask the sever for something to drink] Right, can we pleeeease get a bottle of your Montrachet, two glasses, and another one of whatever my company had before this. Thank you. 

[He turned back to Marco, pushing back his hair with slightly parted fingers] Trust me, I’m not just being an overbearing ass hole ordering your drinks for you, that wine is truly gorgeous. Not unlike yourself tonight. [He let one hand splay out across the pressed table cloth, running the pad of his thumb along the handle of a fork that had been placed atop a cloth napkin] you Italian’s really do know how to dress up a nice shirt don’t you? 

[He pressed back against his chair, tapping his thumb without any sound against the fork] I really am sorry I was late, I’m sure the people I work with must study my diary and deliberately pick my busiest days to host the longest of meetings. How was your day though? Get up to anything exciting?

[The few drinks that he’s had have his head feeling light and he can’t help the smirk that stays present on his face. He doesn’t mind that he’s talking about Italy as though he’s from there. Quite the opposite. Though Marco doesn’t see himself ever going back home, he still enjoys hearing what others who are not native like about Italy. Maybe someday he will find some who will lure him back. Maybe.]

You’re fine, I don’t think you’re being arrogant at all. [Of course if he’d been talking to anyone else, Marco might have felt different. This man across from him now, was anything but offensive. It was hard for him to pry his eyes away from Julian’s face thinking how much more clothing he has on compared to the other day.

Damn the alcohol.

He leans forward against the table, crossing one leg over the other. His posture is loose, playful even. Tonight Marco wants to be seen if only by the beautiful man across from him. He gives a casual lift of his brow when Julian comments on his shirt and he shakes his head.] This old thing? [He reaches up, sliding the palm of his hand over the collar of his shirt and then down his chest.] You look very dashing yourself, though I wasn’t too sure how dressed up I should get for tonight. I must admit that I feel a little under dressed. [A small pout forms on his lips when Julian apologizes for being late and he shakes his head.] No, no, don’t worry about it at all. [Absently, he reaches out and places a hand gently atop Julian’s, squeezing it reassuringly before retreating.] My day? [He clears his throat.] My day was, exhausting. [He laughs to himself.] Some might think being a dancer isn’t that difficult of an occupation, but try telling that to my feet and body. [Again, he laughs.]

Well, you’re here now. Hopefully you can find something to get your mind off of work? [Yes, he’s full on flirting now but he can’t help it. It’s been quite a while since he’s been on a genuine date.]

[tra-le-stelle]

the-lesser-half:

[He’s not looking for company, and he would think his sour mood would deter people, but the ‘fun’ thing about being at the fucking Seven, is everyone feels like it’s their job to cheer you up. Most people might consider this a nice, welcome thing. But Noah isn’t most people. 

Still, the guy is… on the side of non-invasive, at least. He’s not overly cheery, or pushy, as he casually slips in beside him, and makes straightforward attempt at conversation. 

Noah glances at him briefly—he looks familiar—handsome, definitely—but he makes no judgements beyond that.] 

You could say that, [he mutters, somewhat reluctant.] Most of them are, though. 

[Marco is in a particular mood this morning. Not necessarily a bad one but not really a confrontational one either. He can feel the eyes of the other on him as he sits down, probably wondering what the hell he’s doing. To be honest, he really doesn’t know.] Wow, that sounds terrible. [His tone is flat.] Did the server have anything to do with your bad night? [He’s probably going to regret engaging the guy but for now, he presses on.]

[tra-le-stelle]

rivers-run-wild:

Well, what else do you have here other than free time? [He grins, then adds a shrug.] I mean, that and lots os pretty distractions, [he teases.] Which I’ll admit, is even a problem for the blokes and I when we’re trying to get practice in. 

But yeah, you definitely should. It’s a fun night. We play on Fridays, at the Needy. Just cover stuff, stuff people can dance to, y’know. But actually, I’m talking to Lady lately, trying to see if I can get a gig playing my acoustic stuff. I don’t know.. maybe at the Jellyfish, or something, but.. I don’t know if that’s the right scene for it or not. I’ll have to talk to her. 

[With a gentle smile ever present, Marco listens to River. He likes how easy it is to talk to him. He’s much different than even Marco himself.] I have no doubt that Lady would say yes to letting you play other places. I mean, I would if I were her. Well, if i were in charge of things. [Marco can’t help but blush as he stumbles over his own tongue.] Yes, Jellyfish, it’s a nice place. I’ve been there once or twice. I can see you on stage surrounded by a crowd of people. [He dares to give River a friendly wink] I’m sure if you do get play there will be some advertisement?

[dolan-daily]

[price-julian-blog]

Julian & Marco:

[tra-le-stelle]

price-julian:

[Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. The meeting had overun like the bitch he’d always known it was going to be and he’d found himself cursing and offending through the latter half of the congregation just to shut the idiots around the table up. But it had ended, thirty three and a half minutes later than he’d scheduled it to, but it had and thankfully, albeit out of character for central London, he’d managed to pull into Zenith’s parking area just twenty minutes late for the dinner he’d arranged. 

Sure, that twenty minutes had promptly gone south and turned into forty five by the time he’d changed into another, but more dinner appropriate, suit; made from a soft navy wool blend, two button fastening, a classic double vented reverse. Nice, fucking lovely actually. And with a quick reapplication of his aftershave and a rather shameless swill of mouthwash he was out the door. Thankfully in his mad dash to look presentable he’d thought to send the other a quick, half apologetic text: 

“Really sorry, ended up getting held up at work. Will be with you by ten. Have a drink on me. Be there soon, J.” 

The walk wasn’t long of course, so his gracious entrance into what was a rather busy night for the glut, happened at some time just before ten. Hopefully ballet dancers didn’t have to adhere to some stupid no eating after six rule because he was fucking starving and there was a sea bream fillet with his name on it. So he scanned the room, clucked his tongue softly, said something forgettable to the matredee as he spotted the other and promptly made his way over to that pretty little thing sat with his back to him at one of the farther, more private tables. 

He let his hand drop to the others shoulder as he swiftly side stepped to his seat. Smile fucking brightly Julian, you owe this poor boy] Hello you, god I am so, so sorry I’m late. Absolute liability. Let me get a bottle, say sorry properly. [he grinned]

[He was nervous but he had enough gall to finally admit it to himself and in doing so his nerves calmed a little. Of course that only helped while he was dancing. He’d been able to pour all his concentration into his steps and pirouettes and on getting his lifts just right. His instructor praised him greatly at the end of the day.

The ride back to The Seven was a different story. It was only 8:30 pm by the time he arrived back and Quay. Time was not going to be quick for him.

While he got himself ready, Marco couldn’t help but think of Luis and what he might be doing at that moment. Maybe he was out on a date as well. Marco pictured Luis, sitting across the table in some cafe. He was dressed handsomely, that secretive smile of his ever present. Marco imagined him sharing stories with some man he’d met at a bookstore. It’s too easy for him to get wrapped up in his thoughts and imagery of his former lover.

The walk to the restaurant takes about twenty minutes but Marco arrives much sooner than he had intended but his early arrival meant that he was able to get a decent table in a secluded corner.

His phone goes off with a text notification and he sees it’s Julian. A tiny part of him wonders if it’s a text to cancel plans but, thankfully, it’s not. Marco shoots back a text maybe a little too quickly:

“No worries at all! :)” He does feel a little juvenile including the smiley face but maybe Julian won’t comment.

...

The touch of a hand on his shoulder does cause him to jump ever so slightly but with the couple of drinks already in his system, it brings a soft chuckle to his lips. Julian appears in the darkness of the restaurant and the only thing Marco can think is: “was he this gorgeous when they first met?”]

No, don’t be sorry, really. I wasn’t waiting all that long and the view has been nothing short of stunning. [He motions to the waves and the beach all lit up under a bright white moon.]

[tra-le-stelle]

price-julian:

[He chuckles, the sound is low and deep and he looks down and back up again in one quick gesture before he lets the sound settle into something else] As much as that offer is, well, one heck of an offer I really do think your behind would look better in them than mine. 

[There are times when Julian was so good at maintaining his work life balance that anything, even something as harmless as flirting, is automatically categorised so specifically by him, that he misses out on moments like this. Julian didn’t date. He paid for company, partly due to habits, partly due to the fact that by paying, by scheduling, he was able to fit sex and some semblance of a relationship into his day to day life. 

So asking someone to dinner, asking someone who had no connection to his work life, who just happened to have a sweet smile and seemed to be able to hold a decent conversation, wasn’t something he’d done in a long time. 

Julian smiled softly at the other now, nodded] Great…that’s great. [He slipped his hand into a tight pocket on his hip, with effort some effort given how tight they were, and pulled his phone from where it had been. He flicked to a calendar, now more than used to the patch work of colour that came from his personal schedule; almost every god damn minute of his next two weeks littered with wall to wall commitments. He clucked his tongue, bingo] Thursday? How about Thursday? Would nine be too late? Someone inconsiderately booked a meeting in for me at six, so will give me time to get back here. Freshen up a bit. 

[When exactly was the last time he’d been asked on a date? Or well, dinner. This is a date, right? Marco suddenly feels oddly out of place. It’s even been a while since he’s asked anyone on a date but it’s still a nice feeling. Knowing that someone desires his company, wants to spend time with him.

By now, his smile has totally gotten out of hand and he’s sure his face has gone pink but he doesn’t care. This beautiful man is asking for his time. He patiently waits while Julian checks his phone, knowing that he, himself, has plenty of free time outside of work.] Nine PM this Thursday? [He doesn’t even think to check his phone and pretend that he has a social life so he’s quick to reply.] Yes, that works just fine! [He’s like an puppy eager to please.]

[starstvdded-deactivated20190108]

Lose Control

[tra-le-stelle]

firstnamekoby:

{ Nights like these he needs to forget. Erase the thoughts of a past and family. A sister he’s disappointed time and again. Enemies that not only look for him but search for her. Avoidance has always been a way he deals with things and tonight, life at the seven is no different. 

How easy it is to indulge. To play the pretty face with a hard body and hard ons that he offers to the highest bidder. He can forget when his mind is empty, idle hands busy, and tongue dripping with the sweetest nothings and lies to get just what he wants.

This nigh is no different. The music pulses through him and his body moves to the music pumping through the speakers and he’s forgetting. His mind is on other goals. More physical, financial, and lustful goals. Nearly drunk and existing purely for pleasure’s purpose, Jacob slips deeper into the trance created by sensations around him. Hands on his chest, hips, and ass. The laughter of the women and men moving closer to him. The cool burn of another shot in his mouth. 

He likes Limelight. It’s always a start at forgetting. The music stops and the floor clears. Jacob follows the crowd to the bar. A few more shoots and his mind will be a vast pool of nothing. No regrets. No thoughts. Just a blank canvas he can spend the night filling.

His mouth is poised to order when he decides to play nice guy. Another role he enjoys trying on from time to time.} 

Two shots for me. { His fingers point awkwardly at his own chest and he’s in the midst of offering to buy drinks for the people sitting the closest to him at the bar. When one of the girls from the floor tumbles towards him. She’s drunk and clumsy and in a matter of seconds, everything on the bar is on him and anyone else in a three foot radius. } And whatever the ballerina just spilled all over us. 

[The music is sometimes too loud and the bass thumps his chest too hard but he ignores it. All around him people are drunk, dancing, fondling one another. The show of flesh is something he’s used to but never quiet gotten numb to it. Marco does like what he see. Beautiful people, some with something to offer, some with nothing. Some looking for a warm body to occupy empty space in their beds.

Leaning across the bar, he asks for a soda and ignores the look from the bartender. Drinking tonight means a hard time getting up in the morning and morning means rehearsals. He’d never hear the end of it if he showed up late or hung over to work tomorrow. None of the club patrons pay Marco much mind as he sips his drink, turning toward the crowd to watch them all with judgement. Yes, Marco is judging them because he’s in one of those moods. He hates it but he deals by riding them out until they fade a little bit.

There’s commotion a few feet away. A circle of people forms around one of the club goers as her drink goes careening over those nearest to her. Luckily Marco isn’t one of the victims and feels only a little bit guilty about those who are.] Too bad for the one who has to clean that mess up... Thankfully ballerinas are a little more graceful than that.

[tra-le-stelle]

the-lesser-half:

[He’s parched and has a headache that could take down a rhino. Ultimately, what he needed was water last night, before passing out with nothing but liquor an cigarettes in his gut, but water this morning if going to have to do. 

He’d been out of fucking coffee when he’d woken up, which is the most not-okay thing ever, so he’d been forced to leave his apartment to stumble, hung over and groggy, to the cafe on the roof terrace of Zenith. With access from the outside, it’s accessible to everybody.

He orders a triple espresso and ‘the biggest bowl of drip coffee they can bring him’, with plenty of cream and no sugar, and a jug of water and a glass. The server, too cute and  ‘kind’ for her own good, smiles at him and her high pony tail slips across her shoulders as she tilts her head. “And will that be lemon, cucumber or melon, today?” 

Noah blinks at her, confused, brows heavy over his eyes. Fuck his head hurts.] What? [He asks. And she repeats: “Oh, we have lemon water, cucumber water or watermelon water for you sir. And then of course we can just give you standard iced, but I highly recommend the fruit infused options, they’re deli—”. Wincing, Noah holds up a hand, waving it to try to shut her up. Her voice is shrill and unkind to his pounding head. He pinches the bridge of his nose.] I don’t fucking know, Barbie, just bring me anything wet, I beg you. 

[He’s drinking a mimosa and eating a plate of berry crepes and enjoying the morning breeze that comes up off the water. The sun is out and it’s a beautiful day. It doesn’t seem that much can dampen his mood. That is, until the server comes back, pouring a drink and mumbling under her breath about a rude customer. Marco glances up, seeing the culprit a few seats down the bar and he can’t help when the corners of his mouth turn down.

He looks vaguely familiar but can’t recall a name. Never one to be rude to someone ‘just because’, Marco pulls out his wallet and leaves more than enough to cover his bill and leave the server a gracious tip. Maybe the rest of her day will go a little smoother. He hears her thanks as he picks up his glass and moves a few stools closer.]

Bad night? [His voice is casual when he asks, tipping back his drink and emptying the glass but he doesn’t look at the other man. Marco isn’t trying to intimidate and he couldn’t be even if he tried but sometimes he wants to know what other people are thinking, how they work.]

[tra-le-stelle]

Everything I want Everything I need I found in you No matter what they say I'm gonna find a way To be with you Take me to your place of sweet love Do you realize what you do to me?

[tra-le-stelle]

price-julian:

[He offers him a polite smile] Well interesting might be a stretch, but sure, there’s enough going on to have kept my interest for the past fifteen years at least. And there’s a fair bit of travelling involved, so that helps keep things fresh. [the smile at some point in the sentence transforms into something more reminiscent of a smirk, twisted, teasing, much like the others] but thank you for pretending, I know full well my line of work sounds about as exciting to you as does the prospect of watching paint dry. Not all of us can prance about in tights and make a living. Some of us have two left feet alright? [it’s all said in jest, his tone much lighter than it has been for some time in fact.

Julian watches him, head tipped just enough that his hair, now pulled from any semblance of a style thanks to the combined effort of running and the light breeze; a light wind that had only just started to set against the thin skin of sweat atop his forehead. He was however almost certain the other was used to compliments. It no doubt went hand in hand with his work. But it didn’t deter Julian from nodding slightly in silence acknowledgement of his thanks. 

Then he smirked again, laughed softly] Really? Well…I mean I’d be an absolute fool to say no to that wouldn’t I? But if I do take you up on that offer, I’ll have to pay you back somehow. [he suddenly stands, brushing his backside lightly with the back of his hand to shake away any dirt left behind from the bench] How about dinner? One day this week…my way of saying thank you. Its not everyday a handsome Italian, I assume by your accent I’ve gotten that right, offers you free front row tickets to the theatre. So dinner, what do you say? 

It’s not pretending. If a man is prideful of what he does to earn his living and is good at it, then he gets my admiration as well. [So now he’s openly flirting. Granted it’s subtle but Julian can likely pick up that Marco is honest in his praise.]  I’m sure you’d look just at home in a pair of tights. Maybe you can borrow mine? [Julian is ridiculously attractive and Marco finds himself having to pry his eyes away from his face to keep from staring at the man...but he can only look away for so long.]

Well I mean, if I can change the mind of one person, then It’s something I’m happy to offer. What can I say? I like to help where I can. [He shrugs, still smiling effortlessly. When Julian stands from the bench, Marco sees that he stands just a few inches shorter than the man and something about this stirs him a bit.] Dinner? [He clears his throat, suddenly finding his mouth has gone dry.] Dinner would be very nice. Pick a night and I will be there.

[tra-le-stelle]

rivers-run-wild:

La Scala in Milan… [Deacon echoes, softly.] Nice. Italy. Wow—I’d love to go one day. That must have been an incredible experience. So did you move here only recently then? Why England… I mean, a place like Italy? Don’t you miss it? 

[The compliment makes him smile, and he looks down briefly, shaking his head, a moment of modesty.] Uh, yeah, I make good money. I mean, better than I ever have before, obviously. And I don’t know if I’m in high demand… [he scratches the back of his neck, clears his throat] I mean, I’m not a Platinum, or anything. But I also make good money because the band is a, like, secondary gig. So, you know, twice the work, in a way. 

I left because I was offered a job at Northern Ballet in Leeds. [He shrugs.] It’s further from my family and it’s what I had wanted. My mother still tries to get me to come home but so long as I she stays over there, I’m content. [He steals a glance over at River. He’s not much like Luis. Luis smiled a bit less but when he did, he lit up Marco’s world. River seems more outgoing, asking questions whereas Luis would have forced Marco to ask them. Stark differences...but River seems kind and genuine, traits that Luis also has.

At the mention of his band, Marco’s brow shoots up.] Now see? That’s something I wish I could do. I always wanted to learn to play an instrument but I never had the free time. Maybe I could come and see you sometime? When do you play again?