pslplz | Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

Trouble only knocks when no one else is home

It was shaping up to be a quiet evening. Goku was with Sanzo until tomorrow, and while there were several potential family members to look to between siblings and in-laws, Omi wasn't so eager to give up a chance to relax in peace. He had articles to read, some code to putz with, and a new caramel-pecan coffee flavor to try. Said coffee was already brewing, filling the air with a distinctly nutty aroma. The holographic display in the living room was set to split-screen between the code file and a live preview, curtains already closed and lights low.

While the coffee finished, he went about the apartment picking up little bits of clutter that always seemed to collect during the week. He didn't mind it in doses, but he didn't want it getting out of control, either.

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"All my life?" Akaya said, laughing. It was kind of true, really. He was always singing or banging rhythms out on something since he was a kid. He leaned his elbow against the bar, draping his form casually as though he were in his living room, rather than a busy club with colorful lights and music in the background.

"But if you mean my band, we've been together for about two years now."

[ooc: Can modify the years together if needed...just making this up as I go!]

As Akaya had said, the cocktail was strong, but otherwise tasty. Maybe with a few more sips, his taste buds would adjust to the alcohol level.

Since he was curious about both Akaya's band life and his music interest more generally, the answer was a satisfying one. Omi leaned against the bar as well, though he didn't prop his elbow against it as Akaya did.

"How did you end up the only guy? I must admit, I was a little surprised about that."

[ooc: looks fine to me!]

"Just turned out that way, I guess," Akaya said, taking a sip from his drink. The unique makeup of the band turned out to be a pretty good angle on the marketing side. What was really important to Akaya though, was the music. Vision, creativity, and talent all came together. It helped that they all had good energy with each other, too. Even if he did get bossed around sometimes by the girls.

"I kinda like it."

Not a deliberate gimmick then. Somehow, Omi was glad to hear that. If it had been engineered that way, it might have stolen some of the magic out of the idea of forming a band and turned it into a formula.

"It is different. What do you like about it?"

"I dunno. We clique." Sometimes, you just knew when you had something that worked. Akaya had a good instinct about this sort of thing, so he trusted in it. Creativity and inspiration couldn't be cooked up in a board room by people who knew nothing about the craft. Akaya had a vision for the band, and his bandmates understood it. You felt a vibe, and you followed it, that was all.

Speaking of which.

Akaya glanced at Omi and without warning, plucked his drink out of his hand and pushed it to the bar along with his.

"Let's dance." He waved him over to the floor with a grin.

Omi's surprise was evident when the drink he'd just been handed was stolen and set aside for later. Okay! Maybe Akaya didn't feel much like talking right then. He could roll with that; dancing together did sound appealing. With a returned grin, he followed the musician onto the floor.

"You know, if you wanted to get your hands on me, you only had to ask."

There was a spicy tang on his lips, and the music was throbbing in a sick beat that demanded his attention. Akaya was still working off that high from the show, and the best way to do it was on the dance floor, where he could move to the rhythm of the DJ's whims. The company wasn't so bad, either.

Akaya laughed, his eyes glimmering with challenge as he shot back: "Did I say anything about putting my hands on you?"

He can see where your mind is, Honjou Omi.

Edited 2016-05-02 02:31 (UTC)

Omi enjoyed that laugh of Akaya's, and the liveliness in his eyes as he rose to the challenge of a bantering match. It had, of course, been a bold flirt, but since they'd just toasted to bold and spicy, he thought he'd give it a try. It helped that the alcohol from earlier was still enough in his system that he was more relaxed.

"Don't tell me you're the kind of dancer who never touches his partner," he said, and after a beat, tacked on, "I might have to lead in that case, and I'm not sure you're ready for that."

"Heh." Akaya smirked at him over his shoulder, his low-rise jean-clad hip already moving suggestively to the beat.

"I'm not telling you anything," he said. If Omi wanted to know what kind of a dancer Akaya was ... well. He'd have to find out for himself. And what he would discover, should he be so inclined, was that Akaya was a natural dancer, who moved perfectly in sync to the music and yet still made it look like his own. He wasn't much for letting other people lead, on the dance floor or elsewhere, unless they could keep up with his momentum.

"I think you're telling me plenty," Omi said approvingly, eyeing the way Akaya's hips moved. He was quietly glad that Akaya hadn't countered him with a dare to try leading; he wasn't sure he was ready for it either. Outside the dance floor, it wasn't so difficult. On it... he was competent-- school dances had verified that much-- but clubs were not his scene. He was sort of counting on Akaya to give him something to match.

The man didn't disappoint. As Omi had expected from someone with such focus on music, Akaya had a solid grasp of the relationship between sound and movement. Omi moved to face him and fell into step. If Akaya were to seek his eyes, he wouldn't have any difficulty making contact.

And Omi was telling him plenty too, not just with his words of challenge but with his eyes. Akaya hadn't really thought he had it in him when Omi first walked into the club looking wide-eyed and out of place. He liked being surprised.

The crowd bumped and swayed around them, shifting them closer together under the bright lights of the colorful strobe. The glitter on his face had brushed off a bit into his clothes, giving off a shimmer every time the light swept over them. When the people surged again, Akaya stepped in and brushed his hand across Omi's hip in a way that was clearly not an accident.

"And you were gonna say yes," he said with a wink. That is, if Akaya really was inviting him to dance so he could put his hands on him.

There were several reasons Omi was glad he'd taken Akaya up on the invitation to see the concert. It was a chance to hear his music; it was a firsthand look at the difference his efforts had made on the evening's performance; it was a nice break to have an evening out relaxing, even if he hadn't been very relaxed at the start; it was a learning experience about the positive impacts of stepping out of his comfort zone, and of being bolder when he flirted; and of course the big one: he probably wouldn't have gotten to see Akaya again otherwise. That would have been unfortunate. They'd barely talked that evening, but Akaya had a powerful magnetism that made that fact just not seem so important. When the hand touched his hip, Omi met his eyes and smiled at the remark.

"The answer hasn't changed," he said. Emboldened by the brush, Omi set one hand on Akaya's shoulder, an invitation for him to step up to full-on contact.

"That's what I thought," Akaya said with a grin. He slid his palm over that hip and pulled him closer, moving to the beat of the music.

They swayed together in a way that wasn't raunchy but not quite chaste, either. Omi can read whatever intentions he wanted into it. Akaya was probably being somewhat reckless, but what was he supposed to do? Never have any fun? That was just bullshit.

Omi smiled more broadly as Akaya pulled him closer by the hip. He left his hand on the musician's shoulder and moved to his lead, not the least bothered by the not-quite-chaste nature of the dancing. Omi thought that should be no surprise to Akaya by now. He'd made several remarks over the course of the day signaling openness to casual sex, both in general and with him specifically.

Eventually, though, Omi had to break from the heat of the dance floor for something to drink. He downed the rest of the Bloody Mary entirely too fast, and then made the mistake of following it with an appletini, which he bought himself. He made it about halfway through it before he started feeling lightheaded. He giggled as he set the glass down.

"I shouldn't have gotten these so close together... What a waste."

"I'll finish it," Akaya said blithely. He didn't wait for an answer, but plucked the glass and downed it.

Ugh.

"You really like 'em sweet," he said with a half-grimace, half-grin.

Omi didn't protest, instead grinning back (and looking slightly goofy in the process).

"Not especially... I just like trying new things. The Bloody Mary was my favorite. I'd expected the appletini to be sour."

He tipped his head.

"Which drink do you most like here?"

Akaya resisted the urge to poke his finger at that goofy grin.

"Nothing like a good cold beer, I say." He tipped his tall glass of pale ale. Omi could have some, if he wanted. But maybe he'd already had quite enough?

Ken would have agreed with that, Omi thought. He didn't care much for beer himself.

"Different tastes for everyone, I guess. Are you here for the rest of the night? I've never been to one of these before... how long do they tend to run?"

"One of these? You mean a club?" Akaya laughed, somewhat amused. He drank down the rest of his beer (since Omi clearly didn't care for it) and took him by the wrist and pulled him back to the dance floor.

"You stay as long as you want."

He leaned in and teased by his ear, "Why? You got somewhere else to be?"

"I mean an after party...!" Omi answered with another giggle, as Akaya already had him by the wrist and moving towards the dance floor. Teetering between tipsy and drunk made things that usually weren't amusing seem funny, like being misunderstood. Or possibly Akaya was misunderstanding on purpose; Omi couldn't quite tell anymore.

He'd also meant to use his question as a segue to say he should probably be going, but it was a little hard to say that right after going back to the dance floor... maybe just a few more minutes. He grinned and blushed a little from the teasing question, though it was barely noticeable under the dim and colored lighting of the club. It wasn't that the question was embarrassing; it was the nearness of that mouth.

"No, not really..."

In hindsight, Omi would decide that probably wasn't the best thing to say as someone who should probably go home to sleep in a few minutes. But sleep didn't really count for "somewhere else to be," did it? How could he have answered any other way?

"Not really? Good."

Because really, this was just a little too much fun to call it a night already. What a waste! Akaya kept odd hours and could stay up until early morning. Not a lot of people could keep up with that sort of schedule, which might be why he didn't have anyone steady, ever since his band became a top priority.

Fortunately, this was just one night, and one party, and there was too much going on right this moment to really think about anything in the future.

He didn't wait to pull him near this time, and he could smell the apple on Omi's breath when he draped his arm around his waist and leaned in close.

It was definitely going to be a mistake in hindsight. But right now Omi was warm and in a good mood and he just wasn't quite ready to leave. And it made him weirdly happy to hear the response 'Good' to a denial of having anywhere else to be.

The arm came around him. Omi saw the lean in and, without really thinking more of it, closed the gap with his mouth.

Oh. Well now. Their bodies pushed together, and Omi's lips found his, to which Akaya had no objection. He grinned against Omi's mouth as he tasted the lingering bit of his sweet cocktail mix with the bitterness of beer. The music throbbed around them, the crowd paid them no mind, and Akaya pulled him closer with his palm sliding in behind Omi's neck.

With more than enough encouragement to continue, Omi pressed harder into the kiss. He inferred from where Akaya put his hands which side of the field he played, but that didn't mean he was going to be a passive doll. He tested a bit of tongue against Akaya's lips, his eyes slipping closed as the hand slid behind his neck. And with Akaya's hands moving around him, it seemed as good a time as any to slide his own against the man's back.

Omi could infer whatever he wanted from Akaya's body language. He was a versatile sort, but his approach did tend toward the more aggressive kind. He needed no further invitation to part his lips and slide his tongue inside, almost still in the same rhythm as the music that swayed their hips together. The throbbing beat echoing in the rising pulse of his own.

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