◎ c h a r l i e (spinnets) wrote in valesco,
@ 2012-09-06 15:47:00

Entry tags:

adrian mattias, andrea johnson, anton chang, arista sykes, caden flint, charles spinnet, delilah spinnet, estella flint, glenda prewett, group, jeremiah whitehorn, joy mclaggen, kate dagworth-peakes, magnolia mattias, matthew summerby, michal conway lynch, nora peakes, octavius pepper, odette boot, penelope fawcett, phineas mclaggen, psyke bardera, richard house, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, seth wadcock, therese bonaccord, tristan bardera, victoria cadwallader, wendy midgen, zoey moran

Axe's Anniversary of Birth!!!!
Charlie was pretty sure he'd missed out on a wonderful career as a party planner. As he stared out at the dance floor, which he stood over on a platform where the DJ was spinning a mix of wizard and muggle music (even with some popular French songs that were actually pretty catchy if Charlie said so himself). He wasn't surprised at how many people showed up, but it still nearly startling to see how bloody happy everyone was to be there! Sure, some looked ridiculous with the fake mustaches that were passed out (not required, obviously), but a lot had actually grown out their beards and it was----cool, they tried, they wanted to be there and they wanted to have a good time. Charlie wanted to have a good time.

The Kestrels were not top of the pack, and while he believed in his team completely, the stress of the numbers had been getting to them. A night like this was necessary, and maybe it could rejuvenate the team that had lost some valuable members this season and had done a bit of shifting around. They were still trying to get themselves into place, and it needed to happen faster than it was.

Plus, Axe had been pissy all week that no one had acknowledged the anniversary of his birth.

Charlie grabbed the mic from the DJ and grinned, enjoying colorful scene laid out in front of him. funkybuddha club had been a perfect choice for the night, "Don't everyone tire themselves out! There's still a lot more festivites to look forward to!"

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LABARLG

flower
2012-09-08 11:53 pm UTC (link)

Rose closed her eyes, as her lids felt tired and heavy. Sad, sad, she had been feeling so sad, because she didn't--- want to not be talking anymore, she wanted to be talking more, she'd wanted to see him, and she--- her mind thought hazily back to earlier in the night, when she had been home, trying to sleep and thinking, maybe--- but it was late, now, so very late. She was always late, late with everything, and always---- strong hands interrupted her thoughts, as they roughly pushed her body up onto the sink.

A very cold sink, that was, that made it feel very--- her body shuddered, and Rose's eyes snapped open with a low gasp. She blinked down blearily at the close image of Rupert Axebanger Brookstanton pushing up her dress, his hand going up and--- it was not alarming her as much as it should be. It wasn't even--- she was having difficulty keeping her breath, and all that her scattered mind could focus on was how undeniably not sad she was feeling. Not sad. Not sad. Her face screwed up for a moment, as he hiked up her leg, and she quickly pulled at clasp of his trousers.

He tasted like whiskey. She--- had drunk a lot for how short of a physical presence she'd kept here, but, she didn't care. It made her feel better, Axebanger Rupert Brookstanton was making her feel better. And for that, Rose raked her hands down his bare chest, enjoying the feel of it. Up until now there had been a silent agreement of ignoring each other's general existence, so how this had begun.... it was a fuzzy memory. Not important. Something to do with benefits. This sink was important. His hands were important. And his mouth. And all other parts of his body that could make her heart stop aching.

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder, taking deep breaths for a few moments.

"Wait---" She applied her weight against his chest. Maybe--- maybe--- Rose shook her head, the thought already passing as quickly as it had come. Instead, she wrapped her legs around him and forced her lips back onto his.

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incharge
2012-09-09 12:53 am UTC (link)

He didn't remember how he had gotten here. Axe wasn't even sure where "here" was, until his fingers brushed cold, slightly damp porcelain, and he remembered.

Here was kissing a woman whose dress he'd pushed so far up, his hand was more "between her legs," than "under her skirt," in a toilet, while he was drunk. At least he remembered who the woman was, that interminably neurotic Catapult, the one he'd been stuck in the lift with. It was ironic, really, that the person he'd been closest to telling about—about him, about the secrets hanging over his head, was the woman he was now pinning to a cracked mirror, beginning to cloud from their exertions.

His hand formed a fist in her hair and tugged her head back to break the kiss, even though his lips strayed no further than up her jaw. "Tell me," he said gruffly, unable to ignore the momentary hesitation.

He hadn't wanted to do that. He didn't care what she wanted. He didn't even care if she was sober enough to be doing this, because all he wanted was oblivion. He wanted to take and destroy and ravage and he wanted to—get lost. The promise of that was so close to his fingertips, truly, and the thought that he was doing something to jeopardize it was making his head scream. Not like him, not like him, not like him—

He wanted to not care.

Axe's grip on her thigh tightened unconsciously, but he stilled his lips and screwed his eyes up tighter, his thumb of the hand gripping her hand stroking up and down the nape of her neck. His voice softened, marginally. "Say it."

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flower
2012-09-09 02:50 am UTC (link)

No, she didn't want to. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to think, there was nothing--- nothing less appealing than that. Right now. She wasn't-- this was not--- that. Her mouth naturally gaped at his tightened grasp on her, and her eyes closed momentarily to hold back a rising moan.

Resting her head against the glass, Rose looked up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. His stroking of her neck was making her skin feel uncomfortable. Making her uncomfortable--- she did not-- want that. That made her feel--- she did not want that. Nothing that felt like--- that. Taking her hand away from his shoulder, Rose swiftly clutched his forearm to tug his hand away from her neck entirely.

"Just. Do it," she said in a forceful manner. A feeling was getting dangerously close to taking over her chest, one she did not want to experience. And a thought, there was a thought blossoming in the back of her mind, which she also did not want to think about. She did not want to think about him, him, him, who made her sad, and upset, and confused in the first place. It wasn't-- no.

So instead, to race further away from what thoughts that did make it through her hazy alcoholic barrier, Rose lifted her head to look at Rupert Axebanger Brookstanton. And her mind fizzled, until the only tangible thing she thought about was the vague notion of his attractiveness. He was pretty.

"Now," she spoke into his mouth, and pulled both her arms to hang around his neck and down his back. She pushed her fingers into his skin and spread them wide.

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incharge
2012-09-09 04:02 am UTC (link)

For the space of a heartbeat, he didn't move, didn't respond, not to her hands running up his back, not to her lips. Just a beat, where the tension eked out of his shoulders and he breathed.

Then he must have been a blur, gripping her hair so tightly it couldn't have been comfortable, shucking his trousers fully after she'd begun the job, hitching her leg higher, tighter around his waist. He was moving, kept moving, a hand searching out the last flimsy, insubstantial barrier that still separated them and divesting her of it, shifting her other leg over his shoulder for the angle, throwing one arm out to prop against the mirror for leverage, not caring that it was hard enough to further crack the surface, not caring if it cut his palm.

Moving, all he had to do was keep moving, don't think, move, don't think, just—don't—

His head dropped to her shoulder as they pressed close, closer, closest, and all manner of sounds, words, tumbled out of him, swears and praises, in all the languages he knew, and some that simply didn't exist. When his bearings straightened, even though his head still swam, he took her in the hardest kiss he knew how to give, lip-scoring, teeth mashing, bruising.

He didn't care.

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flower
2012-09-09 11:25 pm UTC (link)

Her head was screaming, screaming, and of the good kind, the kind where there was nothing but natural noises coming out of her because any kind of thought process was being completely devoured by his--- ohh.

She dug her fingers into his back, wanting to be closer, closer, as her skin burned and his hold on her burned, and--- her body shuddered, her skin came alive, and as a great sigh left her, her head fell forward. Vaguely, her scalp ached, her back hurt from being forced into the sink--- that didn't matter.

A reprieve, she wanted a reprieve, needed a reprieve--- he was hurting. Rose squirmed uncomfortably in his grasp. She found his kissing was too difficult to accept, now, and had to break away. To breathe, to tremendously breathe, laboriously breathe, to stop her head from swimming, to focus her blurred vision. Her eyes swelled, feeling much heavier than before, and she idly pushed her hand onto his face.

Her head slipped, rolled even, as she shook it. That was selfish. So, she leaned forward again, hand slowly sliding from his face and down his front as she drove her lips back to his. Maybe just a little bit more. This was too good of a feeling to loose just yet.

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