ArchivedLogs:Needed

Needed
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Micah
In Absentia	16 August 2014 Music and signing and some vampire feeding.
Location <NYC> The Roost - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The second level of this house takes up less floor space than the ground floor, owing largely to the open sweep of balcony that overlooks half the home below. Up here the floors are in natural hardwood, polished and smooth. At one side of the balcony, again, a door leads over to the adjacent unit in the house. One door off the balcony leads to a quiet office space, with a wide metal-and-glass desk, long sofa and armchair opposite a large pair of bookshelves. A tall glass door in the large windows on the back wall leads out to a wide outdoor balcony overlooking the river. The second door leads to Dusk's bedroom, dominated by greens and greys. He has finally actually gotten himself a /proper/ bed to pair with his dresser and bookshelf, king-sized and settled low to the ground onto a solid wood base with a number of drawers built into it. His desk holds the desktop -- somewhat literally. The desk /itself/, with see-through glass body and softly glowing lights inside, has been configured to /be/ the computer case. Closer inspection of a pair of small decorative aquariums sitting to either side of its three monitors finds them to /also/ be computer cases, their inner workings submerged in a pale blue liquid on a bed of aquarium pebbles alongside plastic plants and little plastic castles or fake coral. In this bedroom, too, a door leads out to the same balcony outside. Capping off the balcony at its other end is a guest bedroom, large wood-frame bed with a small end table, dresser, a hammock-chair hanging from the ceiling in a corner, a desk by the window. With nobody around /in/ his house Dusk hasn't bothered a whole awful lot with things such as lights and doors and /clothing/ -- not that he's exceptionally conscientious about all this with his housemates there either, to be fair. At the moment the door to Dusk's room is open but the room empty; there's music coming from the guest room down the hall, though, Imagine Dragons' 'Demons'. Inside, Dusk -- is actually fully dressed, in stark contrast to his usual lounging-around lately; tight-fitted black v-necked t-shirt and blue jeans. The furniture has been shuffled somewhat to the side to make room for -- dancing? Singing? Or signing, at least, which is what Dusk is currently doing, a very passionate interpretation of the song in ASL. His wings make a stark-dark background against the paler green walls, half-mantled behind him as he signs along with the music. Across the room his laptop is open, hooked up to a camera which, judging by its red light, is recording. After a rather full evening of Spencer-related activities on Friday, Micah has been busying his Saturday with household chores. The scent of lavender and herbs from the last load of laundry he'd folded clings warmly to his mussed hair and weekend clothes, bluejeans with a black T-shirt depicting an Impressionist version of Serenity flying through a Starry Night inspired sky, feet bare. Very likely there had been singing coupled with the laundry tasks, as Micah is still singing Gavroche's part from "Little People" as he bounces over to Dusk's...empty room. Hm. That puts a pause in his step and his words fade out into a murmur, then quiet. The music playing leads him down the hall but he stops a foot or two from the doorway for fear of interrupting, head canted slightly and lips pulled into a small smile. The song continues; judging by Dusk's very expressive face and motions, if he were singing /aloud/ he would be belting this along with the recorded music. But it's just quiet, occasional huffs of breath or quiet lip sounds marking different signs. He lowers his hands as the song fades away, waiting for it to stop before he lifts them to start signing again -- but stopping with a small twitch of lips, a sudden flush in his too-pale cheeks. His head turns, smile hooking crookedly up as one wing stretches out to hit a key on the keyboard with the end of a talon. "-- Oh. Hey." Micah's smile has broadened by the time the song is over. He doesn't enter the room until addressed, his own cheeks picking up a ruddiness that is simply an echo of Dusk's and not any embarrassment of his own. "Hey, hon. Was just stoppin' by b'tween chores t'see what y'were up to. Didn't mean t'interrupt nothin'." One hand reaches up to pet at Dusk's hair, the small gesture of affection largely not a conscious one. "That was real pretty. Um. I can go if y'need t'get back t'somethin'." Dusk's head tips in to the petting, rubbing up against it in a motion likely equally not conscious. "Huh? Oh, no, I -- can finish that later, I was just --" His smile is still a little bit lopsided. "Just." He doesn't yet finish this explanation, instead wrapping a wing around Micah to pull him in closer. "You smell good. Jax back yet or did he stay the night?" Fingers burrow into Dusk's hair, fingertips curling against his scalp as his palm continues to move through its petting motions. "Just bein' pretty?" Micah finishes with a fond-playful grin. He nuzzles into the wing as it encircles him, pressing against Dusk's side once he is tugged in close. "Been under a pile of fresh laundry for a hot minute. S'prob'ly the soap." His head shakes slightly in answer to the question. "S'a long drive. Ended up stayin' the night up there but should be back later on t'night." "Was I?" Dusk exhales happily, closing his eyes and tightening his wing snug and warm to hold the other man close. "No, I was -- recording a --" His head dips down, lips skimming against the vein running up Micah's throat. "S'not just the soap." He hums, thoughtful and maybe a little pleased judging by the way his lips turn up against Micah's skin. "Did he have a good time? I was -- glad. That he went." "Mmhm," Micah confirms with a nod. His lips part slightly for a deeper breath, a little shiver travelling down his spine at the kiss. "Was an amazin' good thing that he went. He ain't been...nowhere without me ever since." He leaves off the since what, as they both know full well without his saying it. "An' certainly ain't been no /new/ place, an' sleepin' away. S'all good steps." "Good. Good. I've been -- he's been." Dusk doesn't actually finish these thoughts, his worries about Jax's emotional state well enough known already. Well enough /shared/ already. His teeth scrape slow and light against Micah's vein, a tiny growl thrumming briefly in his throat; it trails off into more of a hungry whine before he lifts his head. "That country boy he went with was no /end/ of blushes when Jax was around," he adds with a small amused tip of smile. He pulls back, finally, wing trailing against Micah's back as he drifts over to his computer, teeth pressing against his lip as he saves the video he was recording, gives it a new name, sticks it in a folder marked for Needs Editing. Another nod answers the unvoiced concerns, agreeing with them but also not bringing them up again. Micah falls in a little heavier against Dusk's side, arm wrapping more snugly around the other man to keep himself on his feet. The tiny-growl is answered with a soft purr. "He was pretty much all blush when he came for dinner. But Jax was there then, too, so's I can't say much on if that's just /him/ or bein' 'round Jax specific or /both/." It takes him a moment to extricate himself from the tangle of his fingers in Dusk's hair to let him get to his computer. Another moment is claimed in getting his weight properly over his own feet once the other man moves away. "He wasn't near so bad when it was just the two of us so I'm going to guess a small sprinkle of just-him with a /good/ dose of specifically-Jax." Dusk hesitates by his computer, but then stretches his wing out again to press gently against Micah's back, lightly nudging him a little closer. He's moved up one folder, a very large store of videos /mostly/ all labeled by song name though a few are marked as various sorts of tutorials. "C'mon. You want to see one of..." His thumbclaw twitches towards the screen. "S'good, too. Couldn't hurt 'im t'get a little doted on while he's out." The light nudge is more than enough encouragement for Micah, and he follows the wing's lead over to Dusk's side once more. "Oh." His eyes widen slightly, smile bright and broad. "Pick one y'like a lot." This suggestion comes with a press of his head into the other man's shoulder. "Can't imagine that could hurt, no. Not that he /doesn't/ get doted on when he's here." Dusk's wing rubs slowly against Micah's back, and he rests his cheek up against the top of Micah's hair before finally scrolling through the folder and clicking one of the videos open. The song is SJ Tucker's "Wonders", and even as the video starts playing Dusk is humming quietly along with the soft opening; /There must be blood, and this I knew; Surely there can be wonders, too./ Like his previous interpretation this is deeply expressive; the gloss of the signs together with the /actual/ lyrics track along at the bottom of the video. Dusk is quiet as it plays, wing snug around Micah as he returns to nuzzling his way slowly back towards the older man's neck. "Oh, s'plenty enough when he's here. But that's the same old comfortable-familiar dotin'. S'nice comin' from new places now an' then." Micah's breath slows, deep and contented as Dusk holds him. He pets a hand along the wing wrapped around him like a fuzzy-soft blanket. His eyes lid a bit heavily, perhaps only staying open by virtue of having a video to attend. He does watch with a rather rapt attention, heartbeat slowly climbing along with Dusk's nuzzles even as his breathing calms. The rising of Micah's heartbeat draws another small whimper-growl from Dusk, his nuzzling more insistent and his teeth pressing lightly to Micah's skin again. His wing rubs slowly against Micah's back, his hand curling around as well to slip beneath t-shirt and brush lightly up Micah's side. He speaks again only when the video ends, /his/ eyes, at least, closed, and a deep blush reddening his cheeks. "I have," he admits, "a lot. Of those." Micah's lips part, a deeper breath pulled in through them, audible as a small gasp at the teeth against his skin. To his credit, his head doesn't tip back until the video ends, though the permissive movement follows /rapidly/ on the heels of the song finishing. "You're beautiful," could be his opinion on the videos or just Dusk at this moment. A hand traces up along the other man's back, between his wings, finding the back of his neck to knead into. "D'you just collect 'em?" Dusk's breath shivers out in a soft moan at the kneading, his wings shifting to allow better access to the tensely knotted muscles there. "I -- make them and then, mmn, put them on youtube when they're polished up. Have a few -- lessons in there, too, signing /music/ is a whole different beast than just interpreting regular speech. -- Ohgodyes." These exhaled words sound almost orgasmic -- though really Dusk is just pressing sorely overtaxed muscles into the kneading. His mouth closes a little harder, teeth dimpling down against Micah's neck but not /quite/ breaking skin yet. "/You're/ fantastic." "Sure y'must have a fan club by now, then," Micah observes. There is a smile and a small chuckle to accompany the observation, but the words are far more serious than tease. He slips in closer to Dusk, practically in the other man's lap to give him better leverage for tending to the too-tight muscles he encounters, both hands moving to the task now. A breathy little whimper follows the harder bite. "Got a lot of followers though I think half of them are interested in signing and half of them are just gawking because freak?" Dusk shrugs a wing, though after this the wing curls around Micah to hold him snugly closer. "But there's. People. Who really appreciate having better access to music, so." His voice is quieter, a little breathy as Micah kneads at his back. His tongue slides up along the vein, the low rumble of growl deepening. His wing settles in strong support at Micah's back, eyes lifting for a moment to the other man's face. "Deep breath." Which is the quiet warning before Dusk's fangs press to skin again and then sink in, hard and swift in sharp clean puncture. His body shudders against Micah's as hot blood fills his mouth. "Could be gawkin' 'cause you're just kinda gawk-worthy, too." Micah's shoulders roll a little, pressing appreciatively into that tight curl of wing. A purr rumbles through his throat, felt more than heard, as Dusk's tongue laps over his skin. His chin tips back even further in invitation, an obedient breath pulled in through his lips when instructed. Even so, when the teeth finally break his skin, he gasps a sharper breath only to let it out in a low moan. His fingers dig in a little deeper than he might have intended where they had continued to work. Dusk doesn't answer this, mouth rather full of Micah just at the moment. His tongue strokes against skin hungrily, his own rumbling growl felt thrumming against Micah's neck. His hands slide down, fingertips slipping beneath the other man's shirt to run against his belly. The touches are only accentuated by the slow euphoric buzz of his bite. His fingers, now, curl in against Micah's waist, a firm press that pulls the other man closer still. Micah trembles against Dusk's hold, small whimpering sounds continuing with each lap against his neck. The muscles of his abdomen tense and shiver under the other man's touch, his own hands beginning to wander, tangling in Dusk's hair, running over his chest. There isn't much /closer/ to be had, starting half on top of the other man as he does. Micah stumbles a little against Dusk, finally giving in to overwhelming forces and sliding into his lap, pressed up tight to him. "Love you," the words manage to murmur their way through his quickened breaths. "Love you." This is growled out, soft and low against Micah's skin. Dusk laps again at the blood that flows there, hands sliding up to pull Micah's shirt upwards -- he breaks away from his feeding only long enough to tug the t-shirt off. "God, I've needed --" He doesn't finish this thought, mouth returning to the other man's neck. This, perhaps. The close hold of his wing doesn't seem inclined to /relinquish/ any time soon.