ArchivedLogs:Try Anything Once

Try Anything Once
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Eric
In Absentia	2013-07-01 Some time after cocoa.
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Lobby - East Village
Bright and sunny, the lobby of this apartment building is clean and unassuming. Requiring an electronic keycard for entry, the pair of elevators dings cheerfully when one arrives. A small sitting area has bright yellow couches and small coffee tables, though the nearby vending machine is perpetually running out of /something/. Tall windows let in plenty of light during the daytime, and the building maintenance keeps the common areas spotlessly clean. A bank of mailboxes near the sitting area collects mail for the building, a recycling bin right at hand for the unwanted spam. Beside the mailboxes, a large corkboard serves as informal meeting space for the announcements, perpetually flyered with notes and notices from the various apartment residents. The afternoon is just starting to wear on towards evening when Eric finds himself at the front of the Village Lofts, loitering outside the locked door. He eyes each passer-by hopefully, then frowns as they pass him - and the door - by. He glances back towards the inside of the lobby and shoves his hand back into his pocket to tug out his cell phone once more, swiping his thumb furiously over the surface of the glass. There must be no response, since, after a moment, he gives it an annoyed look and crams it back into his black jeans pocket. There might be no answer from his phone but eventually there's one from the door. Or -- sort of one, at least, in that a young man has just made his way out of the stairwell, slim and pale (if less so than usual) and dressed only in a pair of jeans, no shirt. No shirt likely to allow for the /giant/ near-black wings that sprout out from his back, currently pulled in close around his shoulders like a cloak. He has keys dangling from his fingers and /is/ heading towards the bank of mailboxes but he reroutes at the sight of Eric outside. Dusk heads for the door instead, tipping his head to the side to look at Eric out in the wet evening. He opens the door, after a pause. "It is pissing it out there, dude, who are you looking for?" Eric's eyes flick over Dusk for a moment, raking over the other man's chest and pausing at the wings on his back. "I'm lookin' for Shane," he drawls, stepping a little bit closer to the other man, as if to make his way inside - or, at least, get /part/ of his body out of the downpour. "And the shit ain't answerin' his phone. Maybe he's still out in upstate, but that ain't no reason not to answer. They've got cell service out there in the middle'a nowhere." he grumps, lightly. The police officer pauses to look over Dusk for a moment, head tilting to one side in consideration. "I think we've met before, yeah?" A pause, and he extends his hand towards the other man. "Eric. Eric Sutton." "He's been coming home most nights," Dusk says with a slight frown, "is he not home yet? Did you try the apartment -- uh. Do you know he's got his own now? Don't think anyone's home at Jax's." He steps back a little further to allow Eric in properly out of the rain and close the door behind him. "Dusk." The hand he clasps in Eric's is firm, a little calloused, a little cooler to the touch than it likely should be. "I know. You're the cop who --" His lips twitch up into a kind of amused smile, his other hand scrubbing to muss up the black hair at the back of his head. "Right. OK. Shane's Eric. Uh. There's probably /someone/ home in Shane's apartment -- is he maybe at work still?" Eric's grasp of the other man's hand is firm, and his smile is warm as he shakes hands, firmly, once. "Yeah, s'right. I'm the cop who gave Jax that ticket." he drawls, glancing up. "I know Shane's got his own place, yeah, but I ain't seen it yet. And if he ain't answerin', he ain't answerin'. I'm many things, but I try not to be a bother. If he ain't available, then it is what it is, ya' know?" The police officer stands, dripping onto the floor, as he wipes his hair back and gets some of the water off of his forehead. "Still, I ain't lookin' forward to goin' back out there," he says, with a laugh. "Oh, man, that /ticket/, right." Dusk's face scrunches up at this reminder; something in his jaw tightens. "Right." His smile fades, his hand scrubbing at his hair again. His eyes shift outwards towards the storm outside. "Yeeeah, I don't blame you, it's pretty crappy out there." His wings shift, and then tuck in against his shoulders again. A little bit tighter than before, like a soft self-hug. "-- We've got hot chocolate upstairs," he says eventually, after what seems like a long stretch of thought. Eric's eyes light up. "Hot chocolate? You're my hero." The police officer's grin is bright and he gestures towards the other man. "Lead the way, Dusk." A brief pause, as his eyes flick over the other man's wings. "Are those as soft as they look?" he asks, a hand rising for a moment before falling back to his side. He flashes the other man an almost apologetic look, ducking his head down. "Sorry. I'm sure'ya get enough questions like that; you don't need any more from me, 'specially when you're already doin' me a favor." "Was getting my mail." One wing unfolds to gesture back towards the mailboxes. Dusk turns to start towards them, but stops at the question. For a moment, Eric gets a smile; it's warm though the large sharp fangs there give it more of an edge than it might in someone else. He doesn't answer aloud; instead he stretches out his wing, letting one suede-soft edge brush lightly against Eric's cheek. The fangs get a look from Eric, considering, but not particularly threatened. The face-wing does get a little look of surprise on his face, but he recovers in only a moment, and leans gently into the wingtouch. His cheek rubs against the soft hairs of Dusk's wing, his own cheek having just the hint of stubble on it from several hours without a shave. "Mm. Like velvet, almost." he says, eyes looking at the other man's face. "Very soft." Dusk's wing brushes back the other way, lightly twitching up against Eric's wet hair before pulling back to fold in against his shoulders. "Pretty soft, yeah. Most of my friends keep /stealing/ them for blankets all winter," he says with some amusement, turning away fully now to pad barefoot over to the mailboxes and unlock one. He frowns at all the mail; sifting through it results in tossing the bulk of it straight into recycling. "Freak a lot of people out, though. Most people think human-wings and jump to angels, not demons." "If I'd seen ya' out on the streets, I might'a thought twice, too. But in this building?" Eric glances around him and shakes his head, grinning. "Nah, this buildin', I jump straight to mutants. Half'a the city's mutants seems to be here, or stay here, or hang out here." He grins at the other man, crossing his arms over his chest. "And wi' those fangs, I think most people'd be jumpin' straight to vampire, Twili' fangirls not withstandin'. Unless you sparkle." He leans forward slightly, eyebrows raising even as his eyes twinkle mischeviously. "D'ya sparkle, Dusk?" "Barely any buildings that let us rent," Dusk says with a shrug, "especially not when you look like me, or the twins. We find one, we tend to gravitate." One side of his mouth hooks upwards. "Vampire's just a subset of demon to a lot of people." He tucks the couple envelopes he is actually saving underneath his arm. "Why, are you into that?" "I dunno. I've never slept with a vampire." Eric says, shrugging his shoulders and giving Dusk a grin. "Though, when I was back in high school, sometimes I used ta' stay up late in my room under the sheets, readin' Anne Rice. Not a lot of it, mind ya, but some." he says, voice conspiratorially low. He grins at the other man and follows after him. "But I'm int'a a lot of things." "Well, there aren't that many of us around. Think you're missing out, though." Dusk slips past Eric to head towards the stairs. "I owe Anne Rice so much thanks," he says with a smirk, "and Joss Whedon and even the freaking Twilight woman. You have no idea how many people have spent so much time fantasizing about vampires and then see the fangs and --" He shrugs, more with his wing than with his shoulder. "A lot of things. Thaaat's what I hear." Eric's grin is wide as his eyes scan over the other man's back - and backside - before following him along. "Oh yeah? I wasn't aware my reputation had preceeded me," he drawls, one hand rising to gently run two fingers down the soft skin of the other man's wing. "And it sounds like I'm in good company, yeah? If you just hang out among the right crowds, I bet'ya got more people fallin' over themselves to get int'a your pants - and teeth - than even I got." "I've heard some /pretty/ interesting things," Dusk agrees with more amusement than lasciviousness -- even /if/ he glances back here, eyes directed towards Eric's crotch. His wing curls out further, sliding up against Eric's arm -- for all is softness there's a surprising strength to its touch. Or perhaps not surprising, given that it needs to bear human weight. He stops in the stairwell, fangs flashing again in a smile. "It's a hit at goth clubs," he admits with a slight smirk. "Though," his nose wrinkles a little bit, "often kind of a disappointment when they find out the whole bloodsucking thing isn't /quite/ like it is in the books." "Oh, no?" Eric says, leaning into the touch with a subtle press of his arm, hand running along the surface of Dusk's wing in a way that is edging to a full, curious touch from the subtle, teasing ghost of a touch. "How is it different? The books never particularly made it out to be something particularly..." he trails off, considering. "I mean, is it not pleasurable? I assume that's what is different, lest... why mention it?" "Oh, it /feels/ incredible," Dusk answers with a quiet amused huff of breath. "Just, unlike vampires, /I/ can actually get sick. And there's no condoms for blood drinking. People have all these ideas about it but it's pretty much as dangerous as unprotected sex." His eyes drop down to Eric's neck. "Though I've /heard/ that you uh -- /that/ might not be a difficulty when it comes to you." "Oh." Eric pauses to consider this for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. The paperwork they make me fill out any time I get stuck, or get blood on me..." The police officer shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "I can see how'it'd be a lot more dangerous." A pause, and he grins. "Nah. I'm clean as the day I was born. That's one thing I ain't got trouble with." He shakes his head, amusedly. "Thank god, or I'd be screwed. Or, rater, not-screwed. A fate worse than death." he says, with a wink. Dusk's eyes drop, at the wink, wings rustling back against his shoulders, "Have you been dead?" he wonders, quieter. His eyes skate back up, though, along Eric's body to drift back to his neck. He steps back down one step, closer to Eric. "-- What paperwork would they make you fill out for getting bitten by a vampire?" "I dunno. I imagine the brass is busy thinkin' up all sorts of new paperwork for us to fill out now that we've got mutants runnin' around. Ain't nothin' they like more than to give us more deskwork." He eyes the other man with a slight note of caution in his glance as his pulse picks up, studying the other man. "I ain't been dead, but I've been killed. That make any sense?" Dusk closes his eyes as Eric's pulse speeds, a faint shiver twitching up through his back. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, but he doesn't take another step closer. His large dark eyes lift to Eric's face instead. "These days? Someone could tell me they were visiting from three hundred years in the future or from the grave and I'd think it made sense. Or at least made as /much/ sense as any other crazyass thing I've seen." Eric chuckles and he gives Dusk a wide grin. "That's true. I gotta admit, my life seems pretty surreal at times. I mean, here I am, talkin' about gettin' my blood sucked by a hot-ass vampire in the stairwell of the buildin' that the blue shark-guy I've been fuckin' lives in. You couldn't /write/ this shit and have the reader believe it, ya' know?" "As fast as you heal, sucking your blood might be more than its usual share of pain," Dusk admits, though it's hard to tell from the flick of his eyes to Eric's neck whether /he/ considers this a feature or a bug. He does step forward again, though, this time close up near the older man. His hand lifts to Eric's neck, his thumb pressing against the pulse that beats there. "-- Pretty sure I have read a fic like this, though," his teeth flash again, but then his smile fades. "Though everyone tells me it only really hurts at first, and then kind of -- feels good." "Well, I've never been one afraid'a little bit of pain." Eric looks over Dusk's face, then he takes a step towards the other man, pressing chest to chest and letting the other man feel the muscles underneath his shirt. "D'ya really want'a be havin' a snack in the stairwell, or d'ya want to go somewhere more... private?" Eric's voice has just the slightest trace of apprehension in it, though it is layered over by a flirtatious teasing which he emphasizes it with a lean of his body fully against the other man. Dusk's wing curls around Eric in that lean, wrapping snug against the bigger man's back. He dips his head, lips brushing very lightly against one of the thick arteries running up his neck. It lifts, though, at the question; he studies Eric's expression carefully. "Do you really want to?" he asks, quiet and rather serious. "I'll try almost anythin' once. Ain't gonna know if I am goin'ta like it unless I do." Eric says, one strong arm wrapping firmly around the other man in a mirroring motion to the wing, though he does turn his head slightly to brush his face against it. Soooooft. "And in my case, there ain't much risk, ya know?" he says, voice a teasing smile. "You just better hope I don't taste so good I break ya for other people." More flirtation, laid thickly on top, like a four year old who got into the paste. "I just want to be sure you're -- sure." Dusk's wing squeezes tighter, but then he releases Eric with a quick sharp laugh. "You just might. Mutants always taste better. And people who heal clean toxins out of their blood so fast it's --" Colour flushes into his cheeks. "Let's go." His wing brushes Eric's elbow, and he turns to lead the way back up to his apartment.