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Post by alasair luce on Jan 3, 2013 16:32:59 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] May this be the only time Alasair allows his classmates to drag him to a night club. Hell, Alasair doesn't even like dancing. And he really doesn't care much for the strippers there either. He's not even allowed to drink because he was assigned 'designated driver'. Whoever thought him responsible enough for driving was clearly out of their right mind. Well, screw that! He might as well enjoy something at the nightmarish land of flashing neon lights and sweaty bodies practically screwing each other on the dance floor.
He makes his way to the shadowed bar as he slips into one of the seats. There's other men a few seats down, very nearly dead from the amount of alcohol they've consumed and the women that continue to encourage the middle-aged men. With a small sigh, he waits for the bartender to make his way over and he feels a strange connection to the man. Sure, he's handsome, Alasair'll give him that, but ...he can't quite describe the feeling. Unconsciously, he presses a hand to his left hip, brushing a light finger and making himself shudder. What a loser.
"Uh ...sorry, um," he notices the stupidly handsome bartender, "Give me the strongest drink you've got. Thanks," he slides a few dollars over to the man.
If only his hip would stop tinging! [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 4, 2013 1:12:25 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] "Ha-ah, jesus." Grimacing, Aleksei just slaps on a calloused hand onto his left hip, totally regretting the fact that he'd slammed a drawer shut by manoeuvering himself, hips taking the brunt of the force. Well, wasn't he an idiot? He had known for a long, long time that his hip - mostly, his left - was prone to getting bruised, which was slightly odd. It was the place where his team name had been; but since he hadn't done anything to the area, he didn't expect it to get so bunched and painful at times. But he'd merely just brushed that away and disregarded all worry, because he simply had nothing to ponder about. If it got worse, he'd just visit a doctor.
He just goes ahead and mixes the cocktails for the nice gaggle of ladies that's occupying basically half of the club; it was their bachelorette party, or something. Giving them a nice, toothy grin, he slips them their drinks and cleans up the spills, before placing the dirtied towel into the sink.
Soon, he catches eyes of other customers around the bar, and makes his way over to one; and although he'd never believed in horoscopes or superstitions or 'something at first sight', he feels an uncomfortable jolt, and merely smiles to pass on the thought. "Hey, sweetheart," he gives him a cheeky wink, looking at the couple of dollar bills on the table; but like he always does, he presses a hand onto those and pushes it back, not even giving the cash a second look. "Designated driver, huh? Don't'cha worry 'bout it, kiddo. Got your back, y'know?" Grabbing the scoop and dropping some ice into the glass, he adds in some vodka, gin, and rum, before smoothly sliding on some tequila and kiwi liqueur.
He pops a can of soda and pours it into the mixture, stirring with a pineapple-skewered straw, before sliding it on over to the white-haired darling. "On the house, yeah?"
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb]
[style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 4, 2013 14:32:18 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]"Oh, uh, thanks - nngh!" Alasair gasps in pain as he presses a hand down to the sudden flare in his sensitive hip. Blasted gijinka must be near! And he must've ran into some sort of desk or - ...a drawer. Good god. Ow, ow, ow, that freaking hurt! Groaning softly, he leans over the counter, head pitifully resting on his hands as he looks up, blinking rather stupidly at the snowy-haired man. "...You sure? I don't mind payin'. I mean, I feel kinda' bad. I'm sure you folks have to make some sorta' livin' too, but ..." Hesitantly, he reaches for the few dollars and stuffs them back into his jean pocket. He hasn't got much really, but he does feel sort of terrible so he takes out the little cash he has left and shoves it in the bartender's face. "Take it. It's a tip, yeah?"
He's not sure whether that cheeky wink and pet name are just part of standard procedure or if the man's genuinely flirting with him. Alasair is unfortunately a bit oblivious in this sense; the boy just doesn't know. He takes the drink gratefully and sips with pleasure; he's never had a drink as nice as this. Pineapple straw? Good god. Is this heaven? He'd sure like something strawberry related, but he doesn't dare ask for something so feminine in the presence of burly men and half-dressed ladies. He's out to prove himself to be a man's man and a man's man, he's going to be!
"I really appreciate the drink. Damn good stuff, sir," Alasair raises the glass with a small smile. It's a good thing he can hold his liquor well, but his hip is throbbing now to the point of a dull ache and it's enough to make him fidget. "Don't suppose I could get a bit of ice? Young guy like me and my hip is killing me," he jokes, but he grits his teeth, pressing forcefully on the bone in attempt to stop the pulsating motion. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 4, 2013 21:27:08 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] "Whoa, whoa, easy there. Bejeebus. I really don't want'ta know where that money's been, y'hear? Money's a callous lil' thing, y'know. I'd rather not try." He just shoots the snowy-haired stranger a nice smile and pushes his hand back, saying that he'd refuse the money. There was no need to accept such fees for an easy drink; and besides, Aleksei didn't mind being nice. "By the way, if you're curious 'bout the drink's name, 's Tokyo Ice Tea. Honestly, it's a whole wreck for the women, but there's nothin' wrong with a man drinkin' it. No, sir! A drink's a drink."
He has a hard time not pressing a hand against his hip as he leans against the counter, but the other's winces and slight grimace catches him off-guard, and he can't help but to lean down in worry. "You a'ight, kiddo? Don't get ill on me, yeah?" But his light, teasing tone's already shadowed with tight worry, and he rushes to grab a plastic bag to stuff in some ice. That would also work wonders on his aching hip, but customers first -
Wait up. Their hips were both hurting? The hell? Narrowing his eyebrows, he shoos off some of the customers that're nearby, introducing them to the dancefloor with a jovial grin; but when he comes back, he opens the small, push-through door that'd let the other stranger into the inner sanctum of the bar, towel haphazardly hung over his shoulder as he beckons him in, trying to be as least suspicious as possible. If this fellow was really his trainer, then he didn't want to scare him away.
"S'pose I'm going to haf'ta start this introduction again, darlin'. I'm Aleksei - rather, Aleksei Ivanov. I'm a gijinka," and he draws in a breath, never remembering any time of his life being so nervous, as he hitches up his white undershirt to show him the purple bruise on his left hip, slightly chewing on his lip as he brushes his finger against the wound, "and uh, my team name's here, on my hip. I know 's real awkward, kiddo, but I just couldn't ... I thought ..."
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb]
[style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 6, 2013 22:05:05 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]"Oh, uh, thanks - nngh!" "...I'll have to come by this bar more often." Alasair finishes downing his nicely free drink, courtesy of this handsome stranger, and the pleasant buzz dims the pain significantly. Tokyo Ice Tea, huh? He makes a mental note, silently dictating that he should order the drink more often. And pay the next time. Most likely.
With a small sigh, he shoves the little money he has left into the pockets of his jeans haphazardly as he hesitantly follows the bartender into the inner sector of the bar with a slightly wary expression on his face. His footsteps are a little wobbly and he keeps a firm hand pressed on the sensitive bone of his hip only to nearly stumble backwards when his eyes gaze upon the matching name on the man's hip. What the hell? Was he seeing things? He manages to tear his gaze away from the other's bruised hip and quietly studies the man's expression, noting the discomfort in sharp contrast to the previous warmth he had shown Alasair before.
"..." With a soft sigh, he slowly lifts the edge of his sleeveless sweater to show him the matching name, shuddering delightfully when the man brushes a finger against his wound. He feels the synchronized effect in his own body, translating the tang of pain to a sliver of pleasure. With his free hand, he holds out his hand to shake with the tiniest of smiles on his face. "Aleksei Ivanov, huh? Name's Alasair. Alasair Luce. Not 'kiddo' or 'darlin', alright?" he grins, "No need to be nervous. Now what kind of gijinka might you be?" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 7, 2013 1:30:41 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Oh, heck yes. He had met his trainer - and at his crappy, less-than-impressive bartending job? Honestly, he had to have blessings follow and trail after his tail, or something. He gives a cordial little grin when Alasair shivers, knowing that the feeling was absolutely mutual. He takes another plastic bag and fills it with ice, pressing it against his own hip, knowing that the other would feel the same.
This ... feeling thing. It could truly be a pain if they'd share pain, but it could be seriously nifty at some occasions. He could think of many things, actually, but only a number of them would be moral. Anyhow, Aleksei merely presses the bag against the side of his left, ice cooling down the hot flesh and soothing the blue-and-green bruise.
"Alasair, huh? 's a nice name. Has a nice ring to it," he says, accepting that hand and shaking firmly, pressing his thumb against the top of the other's hand and rubbing in slow circles as he does so, showing that he's completely up to his trainer's whims, "kiddo." And yet, of course. A wide, splitting grin fixes itself onto his features as he chuckles, white, pearly teeth and all, as he opens his lips to speak again.
"I mean it. Alasair's a good name, but I can't spend up the chance'ta call you 'kiddo'. 's far too precious, y'know what I mean?"
And oops, his slight pause at the question of his gijinka being was a little too obvious to pass by, but he'd just smile and see if Alasair'd catch it. He was sure he would. He was, after all, a perfectly sharp trainer.
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb]
[style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 8, 2013 3:06:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]Thoughtful, Alasair contentedly listens to the other talk as his eyes roam the other's figure, apparently enjoying what he sees, but he smartly keeps his thoughts to himself. He has a hard time concentrating on the other's face when his eyes are obviously roaming the man's extremely well-muscled body. Granted, Aleksei is wearing clothes, but he can make out the veins in the other's toned biceps and needless to say, they are quite impressive. He's so distracted by those stupidly sexy veins; he actually yelps when he feels the ice press against the other's hip. He jumps slightly, clutching his hip, cheeks flushed a rosy pink as he accidentally makes the most lewd moan he's ever made in his life simply from the sweetness of the ice resting against the other's hip because damn, that feels good.
His cheeks redden and he holds up his hands in protest. "That, uh, totally wasn't me. That was ...the, ah, chair. Squeaky thing, ha ...ha." ...And that was probably the world's most BS excuse ever. Mentally, he slaps himself in the head, but he continues on with a small frown, noting the slight rotation of the man's thumb on his smooth skin. ...This really isn't awkward at all. "Ah, yeah - ...Could you stop trying to be sexy for one moment? I'm n-not interested in you or anything. If you're not flirting with me, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit paranoid," he stammers, punching himself mentally in the face. "...Your biceps are stupidly distracting." He swears he's at least fifty shades of red by now. Good God.
Carefully, he manages to pull his hand away, cradling the hand to himself as if it were a newborn baby instead of just his hand. "...I appreciate the thought, old man," he counters, huffing like a wounded Swellow, but his injured expression quickly flees at the realization that the man never revealed his gijinka identity. "Way to avoid the question by the by. Almost had me there. Are you too embarrassed to tell me? All that style and you're just some Magikarp, aren't you?" he grins.
Two can play at that game. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 8, 2013 3:54:52 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Aleksei would be lying if he claimed that he hadn't ever been faced with scrutinizing eyes before; honestly, he was quite cool with that. He hadn't thought of himself as being extremely handsome, either, but the way his trainer faced him was a little bit more special that he had beforehand. He merely leans against the wooden counter with his good, right hip, raising a fine eyebrow and glancing at the other's reddening features. He has a hard time trying not to break out into good-natured laughter, but he keeps his face neutral for what it's worth. "A'ight, kiddo, whatever you say. The chair, right. Y'know, I've been workin' here for ... Hell, I don't even know how long I've been workin' here. But y'see, I've never heard the damn thing squeak like that. In fact," Aleksei moves in for the kill this time, blue eyes rather vibrant in the dim light overhead, "I'd pay for it to make that sound 'gain. Unless, y'know, that was you." Then, with a cheeky, flirting little grin only fixed by his sinful lips, "Let me have my sin again?"
Chuckling, he only crosses his muscular arms, making the right corner of his tight shirt ride up at the hips, jeans low-slung and without the leather belt he'd usually sling around, looking absolutely like a criminal, "don't'cha worry, kiddo. I'll stop flirtin' with you if you want, but I d'know. Are you sure you want'ta stop? There's a nice song comin' on in less than five, and I think I want'ta take your first." As if there needs to be any confirmation, he continues, flippant and completely chill, "your dance, of course. First dance. Le'mme tell'ya, kid, your first dance is real important. Just le'mme lead, and you'll have a real good time. Promise." And just like that, he smiles once more, bright and illuminated, as he gives him an amorous little wink, before giving him a little bow, bending only at the neck as he spreads his arms, balancing himself. "Thank you, thank you. You're a pretty nice lad, kiddo. I-"
Oh, of course he'd pick up. Aleksei would have been disappointed if he hadn't! Grinning enthusiastically, he merely pushes back his snow-white hair, shaking his head and letting the strands fall back to their original place, "I'm a real idiotic gijinka, really. - yeah, yeah, y'got me, kiddo. I'm a lil' Magikarp, sorry. Did I ruin your team, or somethin'? Nah, but it's not a grand lil' fella, either. 'm a Beartic, actually." Then, he pauses, his laughs warm and pealing, "If I want'ta be honest with you, though, 'm not quite there yet. Still a lil' Cubchoo, if you can believe that." But he becomes all serious, his exquisite, foxy smirk widening on his face, before throwing up his hands in the air. "Wouldn't have picked it for my own, y'know, but ... I like it. 's special, y'know what I mean? Wouldn't want'ta be this huge Zoroark, or somethin' like that. I'd rather have my own style and spunk."
Then, he fills up Alasair's glass with just some cherry coke, before taking a sip right where the other took his own. Handing it to him, he grins. "Always wanted'ta. Indirect kissin'. Aren't I all charm?" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb]
[style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 9, 2013 1:37:20 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]Completely elegantly, Alasair nearly falls over nothing in response to the man suddenly leaning in closely. It's proving to be extremely difficult to maintain his cool around this man and that's fatal because he's just met the guy! How is any of this fair? "No," he weakly protests, his own blue eyes sliding to the left, focusing very hard on an old glass bottle. He's doing basically everything to avoid staring at the other. Damn him for being so strikingly charming. Who said he could seduce Alasair like this?! "That, uh, definitely wasn't me," he laughs weakly, sheepishly running a hand through snowy hair. He prays for the man to avoid touching his hips for the effect is too strong for him to bear. "Guess you'll just have to pay your chair. ...Damn pity."
Alasair swears this man is doing this on purpose. His gaze slides to the nicely revealed strip of golden skin and this man just screams sex god in the most appropriate way possible. What a tease! Honestly, he'd like to give him a taste of his own medicine and shove him against the wall and gnaw on those bruised hipbones with his teeth. That'll show him - uh, what? He snaps back to reality and his eyes are blown wide in shock when the man mentions something about a first. He parts his lips to reply - oh. ...Dancing. Just dancing. "Oh, uh, I-I wouldn't know about that," he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I'm a lousy dancer, trust me. I'll step on your toes within the first ten seconds, guaranteed." His brow furrows that betray his inner conflict, obviously wanting to do a lot more than just dancing. "B-Besides," he squeaks, attempting to reign back his manly voice, "Don't you have a job to attend to?"
Just as he's about to make another crappy excuse, the conversation suddenly swings into the topic of gijinkas and he's home free. He breathes a sigh of relief as the nervous tension in his shoulders relax. "...You're a Cubchoo? You mean, that innocent, little baby polar bear thing?" Alasair frankly has a difficult time believing it. "Your hips are too sinful to be a baby polar bear," he mumbles to nobody in particular before mentally punching himself in the face for actually muttering that out loud. Good God, mouth, get under control. "...I would've thought you'd be a Tentacool or something. I don't know, man. ...Beartic's pretty badass though. ...Just don't go all teary-eyed on me. I can't handle babies, alright?"
Without even thinking, he takes the coke with appreciation and takes a quick swig until it finally clicks in his head that the two of them just shared an indirect kiss. "Oh, God!" he nearly drops the drink, "...Dangerously charming. Too charming if you ask me," he resigns, sighing sheepishly. "Can you tone it down, Casanova?" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 9, 2013 3:56:55 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] He doesn't expect the younger man to take the bait so easily, but he ends up seriously biting the bait right in the ass, and Aleksei merely raises a sculpted eyebrow for the trouble. Honestly, he was going to have a load of fun with this 'kiddo', this time around. Turning his gaze to the counter for a second, though, he whips out a glass and fills it with ice and some liqueur, topping it off with some rum and a chocolate drizzle before handing it to the awaiting customer, taking his change. Slipping that back into the counter, Aleksei faces the youngling again, grinning sharply. "Just because you call me an 'old man' doesn't mean that I have bad ears, y'know! I got that. What was it that you said? Oh, right. Somethin' about ... 'havin' too much of sexy hips to be an innocent Cubchoo', or somethin' like that." His grin is a little too wide and absolutely confident, proud that he'd picked that little whisper of a sentence up, before laughing at the other's comment about teary little babies.
"No need'ta worry 'bout nothin', there. I won't turn all teary and sob all over you, kiddo. Although ... I think it's gettin' a bit appealin', lil' by lil', every second. D'know 'bout you, but I like takin' chances." He just manoeuvres himself so that he's looking at Alasair up and down, a content, lazy expression on his features as he scrutinizes. Honestly, he had nothing to pick on this kid - he was absolutely handsome, and he was sure that his shyness added a special little content to make him even more darling. He sees how the other's hand almost loses its grip on the glass, and he knows that it's because he's so damn good. Heck yes. He had this going. He hadn't lost anything since his youn- well, he was still young now, so that saying didn't count at all. Chuckling, he pushes up the bottom of the glass so that Alasair could have a stronger, firmer grip on it, before nudging up against the other, leaning over to lock the little door that lead to the entranceway of the inner sanctum of the bar.
As the lock clicks shut on his command, Aleksei merely scans the perimetre, making sure that no-one was watching - or at least, totally hawking them, before pressing lips against the other's warm forehead. He smiles against the soft, supple skin, completely knowing that it's his fault it's so warm ( god, his ego, will it ever deflate!? ) before looping his forefinger and thumb around the other's belt hoop of his jeans, pulling him close and pressing their hips flush against each other, looking down at the other's slightly-pink features as he does so, before hearing the seductive, sexual song that flows from the bar's jukebox. Grinning, he drops down to his knees, pressing a warm, nibbling bite onto the other's hip, hitching the shirt upwards, staring at the equally-bruised hip that had their names, feeling some sort of invisible line tugged against him to the other.
"S'pose you're all mine," he whispers, slowly getting back upwards with brilliant, ablaze cerulean eyes, "and I'm all yours, Alasair." [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb]
[style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 9, 2013 23:37:38 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]Alasair receives a nice little break from the constant barrage of the other's flirtations as he rests his jittery nerves with another swig of his supposedly free soda. The fact that he shares an indirect kiss with the man every time he takes a sip is slightly cumbersome in a good way, but it thoroughly bothers him how slightly bothered he is by the simple fact. He's kissed girls before! This should be nothing new. ...And yet, it is. He reckons it's because he's always doing the seducing; he's never been seduced before. He only rolls his eyes in response to the man's rather cocky attitude, but in all honesty, it only turns him on all the more. How come he's not this suave when he's cocky? What the hell? Is this man magical?
His shoulders tense when he notices the other man blatantly eyeing him up for size and he just pretends not to notice only to notice something else entirely: the distinct click of the lock. ...Uh oh. His downfall begins with a tender kiss on his forehead: slow and intentional and he can feel the distinct curl of the man's lips. His stomach twists itself into knots in response and he freezes out of sheer habit before his hands instinctively weakly protest to show he's putting up a fight however pathetic it may be.
It's too late for protests and a soft, inaudible gasp is torn from his lips as his hips are pulled flush against the other's. The hypnotic lull of the seductive tune is dull from the locked room, but it only adds to the thick tension and his knees are about to give out any second from how overwhelmed he is. He tries to stop the obscene moan that parts his bitten lips when his bruised hip, but he obviously has no lack of self control. In fact, the way things are going, Alasair is going to make certain he won't be able to walk for a week. He matches the other's brilliant blue eyes with his own as he simply shoves the man against the wall and roughly seizes his lips with his own, unable to control himself for any longer.
"Do you think you're the only one who can play this game, old man?" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 10, 2013 3:53:00 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Shooot. He had to seriously tone himself down, or something. He hadn't expected the other to buckle like that all of a sudden, before letting out a delicious little moan. Seriously, this kid was giving him a run for his money! He was a little surprised - and this, from the heart - that this young man hadn't found anyone for him. After all, if he had been a few years younger ( ahem, he was still young, a'ight ) and without a special something in his pants, he would have already pulled this stranger and ground against him until he'd had him in his bedroom. Or anywhere, really. Aleksei wasn't going to complain. Snapping back to reality, he raises his eyes to manage eye-contact with the other, raising an eyebrow as he does so, before realizing that he himself had hit the back wall.
Well, that was unexpected -ly fantastically perfectly sex-rific.
"Oh, bejeebus," |
[/i] Aleksei finds himself saying, matching lips with lips with the other and teeth by teeth, hands curling around to pull Alasair closer to his warm body, swiping a tongue against the other's reddened, bitten lips. "I was thinkin' that I could play this game all by m'self, but I guess that I can't, huh? Not with you 'round." He reaches up and unbuttons the top button of his white shirt, popping the black button up and away as he feels the cooler air rush up against his heated flesh, making a show of mock-fanning himself, "You're makin' me all heated, kiddo. Didn't think no-one could ever do that." His lips, though, wet with saliva and topped off with the faint taste of cherry coke, split themselves in a shark-like grin, shaking his head and trying to clear off the cobwebs. Seriously, this kid. He was going to die a few years too early if he ever lived with this guy. But then again, Aleksei loved a good challenge. Besides, Alasair was absolutely too precious to lose. Matching his strides with the beat of the music, he pushes back Alasair into the opposite wall, now pinning the younger man down with his muscular arms as he looks into those stunning blue oculars, grinning, "But that doesn't mean I'm not going'ta play, y'know. Sometimes, life's going'ta make you pick your games - and hell, I'm not going'ta miss this for my life." He laughs, then, this clear laugh that's full of promises and some sort of lewdness, as he just presses his own body against the other's, muscle against muscle and flesh against flesh, "and'ta think that I was all worried that you weren't going'ta be my trainer. Would'a given up bein' a gijinka, if I wasn't all yours." Although that would have been impossible, Aleksei just waves that away like an annoying little bug, sharp teeth marking the other's throat and collarbone, leaving behind reddening marks, "but I was right, y'know. You came in, and I knew somethin' 'bout you."He pauses, just for the dramatic effect, like the Casanova he is, before: "you taste absolutely exquisite, kid."[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb] [style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 10, 2013 22:46:00 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]He's feeling pretty good about himself when he has the man pressed to the wall. Yeah, that's more like it. Now this is what he's used to. He doesn't particularly mind being pulled up against; in fact, he appreciates the body-to-body contact. The two are so close, he can feel the heat radiate off the other's body and things are getting awfully hot rather quickly. He briefly wonders how things seem to have escalated so quickly until his curiosity is broken at the sight of the dip of the other's muscular frame. Grinning almost coyly, he teases, "I don't think you're finishing unbuttoning those buttons, old man. Why don't you loosen a few more just for me?"
Of course, his victory is short-lived. Without warning, their positions are suddenly switched and he's the one with nowhere to run, effectively pinned to the wall. His arms are mostly useless and a low growl sets in his throat as he parts his lips to complain, but he feels teeth graze against the flesh of his neck and he just gasps. Slowly, he throws his head back, exposing the quickly bruising throat and his eyes are blissfully closed, snowy eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his heated cheeks. "God, oh, feels so good," he groans. Shamelessly, he grinds against the other's hips: bruises sliding against bruises as he shifts.
"Guess those old man hips of yours are pretty damn good at this, huh, Casanova?" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by Aleksei Ivanov on Jan 11, 2013 3:21:33 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Honestly, he feels the most 'at-home' when he's pressing someone else up against a wall; he really wasn't one of those who belonged pinned down, you know. He can't do a lot except for to glance at the other's pink face, drawing in the high nose and beautifully-shaped lips and brilliant oculars, hidden by his dainty eyelids. What takes his breath away is really the other's lashes, though, white and snowy against the apples of his cheeks, and he just chuckles breathlessly like the 'old man' that he is. "Honestly, kiddo, I hadn't been expecting'ta be so rowdy tonight. If I had known that you were going'ta come in for a drink, I would'a went and gotten some pills for my arthritis!" Anyway, all jokes aside, Aleksei takes back his work on attacking the other's throat, leaving behind reddening marks with ease, before soothing them down with slow laps across the skin.
The comment makes him laugh, but the warmth of the other's hips pressed right up against his own kind of chokes him up, wanting a couple of drinks that would hit the spot. Instead of that, though, he has a nicer sort of dessert right in front of him, so he decides to ( correctly ) focus on this lad than anything else. He wraps his arms around the other's, pulling him close and gyrating his muscled hips ( that's much younger than he looks, thanks a lot, alasair ) thickly, feeling their flesh touch up against each other as he presses, tilting up the other's chin with his forefinger before mashing messily, his kiss dominating and absolutely rude.
He was sure, though, that Alasair had liked that. 'sides, he'd have to get used to it - he was going to face a ton of those, now. He was all his. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #a9b7bb]
[style=background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]TAG: darling alasair[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #a9b7bb; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by alasair luce on Jan 12, 2013 2:48:51 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px]As pestered he is by the fact that he's the one pinned to the wall, Alasair finds that he actually quite enjoys this. In fact, he enjoys this a little too much. The lack of control is enticing and all he can do is bite down sharply on his bruised lips to prevent him from vocalizing his pleasure. Without so much a warning, his throat is well-attacked and the aftermath of the sudden barage lies a delicate battlefield of bruises and bites that are certain to last for days. Well, he'll certainly have a lot of explaining to do at work tomorrow, but oh well. He's kissed rather suddenly, lips mashed together, as he throws his weight into the kiss. Alasair kisses like a punch to the mouth.
Nothing about either of them is gentle, but that's just the way he likes it. His hands, once freed, grasp the collar of the other's shirt and they tear the rest of the buttons away. The sound of broken buttons littering the floor is music to his ears and he entangles his slender hands into the other's snowy hair. Breathless, he manages to pull away, eyes narrowing, "How old are you anyway? I'm ...twenty two, I think. As far as I know anyway." It's his birthday sometime soon or something. Who knows? He could've sworn some of his friends sent him birthday notes pretty recently. Was that today? "...I might be twenty three," he adds sheepishly.
"...What's the date today?" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: sexy aleksei[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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