evowhisperer | IC Voicemail

[Though Ryuzaki is Lazarus' exact opposite in a lot of ways, the eyes are the same, their piercing, attentive quality swallowing up everything in their line of sight. For someone known to respond to them and their stifling effect, it's probably fairly difficult to ignore the way he's bending every ounce of his focus on Cesar.

His laugh turns giddy as Cesar's hand falls to his shoulder, a little rougher and less coordinated than a sober man would. He accepts the invitation gladly, leading Cesar by his belt loop and weaving his way through the writing bodies comprising the crowd.

This particular club has many dark, strange, anonymous corners, some of which provide slightly more quiet and privacy than others. A few have audiences. A few have more than two participants. The one that Ryuzaki was referring to has no one, revealed when he pushes aside a heavy velvet curtain and pulls Cesar toward a vinyl-covered bench that is, as he mentioned, just the right height to bend a man over.]

*Cesar freezes as the curtain sweeps closed behind them, staring around in shock. There's two walls made of brick, and two of heavy folds of cloth that blot light just as efficiently, and absolutely nothing else to hide them from the rest of the club. It's the most public place for sex he's ever been in, and he's looking around as though a second look would change things for the better.*

*It doesn't. The shotglass is still held stubbornly in his hand (even though most of its contents were knocked on is clothes by the seething crowd outside) and he tightens his grip, eyes leveling themselves towards Ryuzaki.*

*This isn't going to be easy. The ground feels like the deck of a ship in a storm, and Ryuzaki isn't nearly as drunk as him. Cesar finally turns his attention back to him, and the shift is screaming itself in the darkness.*

*His eyes are bright with excitement. Every muscle is tense. He holds the glass less like a jealous drunkard and more like someone armed, and it's all the warning Ryuzaki has before Cesar strikes.*

*One wild swing towards Ryuzaki's skull, heavy-side of the glass first. A second, third if he misses, or if the first two don't bring him down. He's stumbling, and by the third he's tripping over his own feet, falling heavily. The shotglass shatters close to his head, and Cesar flinches when the glass throws a shard close to an eye. He doesn't even notice the cut that a different shard does make, tiny and welling up with blood.*

Edited 2015-09-24 05:31 (UTC)

[Between the alcohol and the molly, Ryuzaki is just messed up enough to have fun and see the most exciting and positive facets of every event and encounter. It makes for a volatile, weird situation, and as he's turning toward Cesar to reach for his belt, ready to drop to his knees and start right there to chase away the last traces of reluctance the man might harbor, he's being hit in the side of the head with an uncoordinated but weighted blow.

Though he has more weight and muscle on him than Lazarus from a year of chomping bacon and working out, he's still lighter in build than Cesar, and he goes down, violently and instantly, hitting the ground, a goose's egg already starting to rise under the skin of his scalp. Glass shatters, Cesar staggers back, and Ryuzaki is rising with ringing, wild laughter. His eyes are alive and dangerous.]

Ha! That's more like it! Is that all you've got? Come at me again, if you can.

[He's injured, but he's not hurt. It should be becoming terrifyingly clear that Ryuzaki responds to many kinds of passion exactly the same way, with monstrous, bottomless hunger.

He kneels next to Cesar, taking his time, running a finger along the tiny cut and licking and sucking the blood from his own flesh.]

I thought you wanted to get off. If you want to get scared... well, I aim to please. Always.

[He draws his fist back, following through with a vicious and far more sober punch to Cesar's jaw.]

*The laughter rings in his head like klaxons from a nightmare. It's not what he expected, and Cesar flinches when a shadow falls over him, bracing for impact. There is none. what...? He's able to push himself up and not be knocked down, and when Ryuzaki touches his face--wiping, not hurting--there's another cringe, smaller and more confused. All Ryuzaki does is suck his own finger. What is he...doing? Is that Cesar's blood? Why isn't he--*

*Drunk-sluggish thoughts don't finish processing the warning before stars explode in his vision, and the next thing he knows is what the floor looks like with his cheek pressed against it. There's grit, and filth, and it smells foul. This was what he expected. This is why he'd hoped to knock Ryuzaki out in a single hit.*

*Cesar rolls over and pushes himself to all fours, scrambling blindly. The world pitches and heaves around him, and he won't get far, but if he can get himself to a curtain or to the bench then maybe he can do--something.*

Edited 2015-09-24 18:07 (UTC)

[Ryuzaki is, like Lazarus, both faster and stronger than he looks. The difference is the extent to which this is true. Still laughing, he dances aside when Cesar staggers to his fours, then starts circling around him, bringing a hand to his head, which is bleeding slightly from where the shot glass hit it. It'll hurt tomorrow, but tonight, the pain sings right along with pleasure in euphoric chorus.]

Cesar! Are you having fun yet? We're just getting started! Come on, get to your feet, unless you want to stay on all fours. We can do it like that. We can do it any way you like.

[He takes a seat on the bench, making a show of looking unconcerned and amused.]

*He's being circled, and laughter fills the tent-like enclosure. Blood sings a silent warcry in his veins and harmonizes with Ryuzaki's voice, and when Cesar levers himself back to his feet he feels more ready to move, more ready to act than he has in months.*

*Ryuzaki dances just out of reach, smiling a trickster's grin. Cesar gives him a glare that promises pain and frustration, and it's obvious escape isn't anywhere in his mind: He wants to punch Ryuzaki's face in, and he wants to avoid hurt. Anything besides those two can wait until he's sober.*

*He's not that much farther away, and it only takes him two steps before he's driving another fist forward, this hit more direct than the one before. He's expecting it to connect, and though he wasn't going fast enough to need to catch himself on the bench, he stops against it anyway, trying to follow Ryuzaki with another hit.*

[He still looks blissfully unconcerned when Cesar comes at him, even when his punch lands squarely and accurately. The second one lands, too, and even though his nose is gushing blood and his eyes can't seem to focus as clearly and sharply, he is still laughing like a broken doll whose voicebox no longer suits his condition or appearance.]

Are you going to kill me, Cesar?

[He takes advantage of the closeness, even with a hostile body, attempting to press his against Cesar.]

Do you know how intimate murder is? It's arguably the most intimate thing you can do to another person. I regret sometimes that I won't leave a body behind when I die... you can't have sex with feathers one last time.

[He wipes his bleeding nose, smearing it across Cesar's cheek with vicious glee.]

*The hand darts between them, and Cesar rears his head back as though he'd been slapped. The fact that he's thoroughly drunk off his ass and has no coordination left is immediately obvious: he tears himself out of Ryuzaki's grip, and it's just long enough to stumble back, overbalance, and fall flat on his ass. His eyes are as big as saucers: blood comes away when he touches his cheek, and his mind is still jangling with a looping track of Ryuzaki's laughter; every time he starts a mental sentence it cuts off and starts over, and he's temporarily beyond words.*

*The moment breaks as he drags his arm across his face, taking away more blood, then wipes the arm on his shirt. His back is hunched, and he looks like a cat that's been badly frightened.*

*At no time does he notice the curtain pulling back.*

Edited 2015-09-29 04:21 (UTC)

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