Boys Night

[suneater]

[Reserved for Satyr]

Zeph hadn't seen Rodrigo in nearly a month, so when the text had come in (come out 2nite?) he'd responded with an enthusiastic triple cluster of thumbs-up emoji almost immediately. His plans had been so tenuous and convoluted that he was still barely sure what he was supposed to be doing. Some kind of art show opening with Lindsey (she'd tried to explain the Impressionistic significance of the work, but really she was just trying to fuck the artist, an enigmatic hunk who went by "V"), and then a "party that wasn't a party", whatever that meant, with the Andys. His fingers flashed across the screen of his phone, cancelling all of it. He was flaky enough that no one who knew him remotely well expected or asked for an explanation, so the process was pretty painless.

Rodrigo was one of his first friends at Watson. He was year older than the nymph, with a body worthy of sculpture, chiseled features, and perfect latte colored skin. They shared a ballet class, and Zeph had followed him around like a puppy for nearly a week before they finally hung out alone. Things hadn't worked out- Rodrigo liked things a lot rougher than Zeph was capable of. They'd bonded though, and in the ensuing months became very close. They'd even ended up performing together for their ballet final, and the erotically charged piece had earned them perfect marks and gotten both of them laid afterward.

Rodrigo had started seeing someone a couple months back. It was a stormy relationship, but that was par for the course for the hot-blooded Latino. He thrived on drama, and it seemed like his new beau was delivering in spades. When reports on their latest squabbles dwindled and then stopped altogether, Zeph had thought nothing of it. Rodrigo was the sort of person to fall off the map when he got serious with someone. This time, though, he'd spun completely off the globe. Mutual friends asked if he'd heard anything- Rodrigo had been missing classes, disappearing for days at a time. Zeph's attempts to reach out were left on read. He'd finally run into him at Piston on Jock Strap Night, and Rodrigo had been super out of it, to the point that even Zeph noticed. He met the boyfriend there too - Caleb. He was hot in a scary way, which was exactly Rodrigo's type, so the disappearing act sort of made sense. The three of them had ended up in the "dark room" at the same time and Zeph had been a little in awe watching them fuck. It was brutal, but afterward, Caleb was a total sweetheart. Zeph could tell he genuinely cared about Rodrigo, and his concerns were at ease.

almost there. "Shit," Zeph swore aloud when the text came through and scrambled out of bed. He'd gotten distracted watching videos of competitive Tetris play on Youtube. It had just sort of popped up in his suggestions (he was a huge fan of Minecraft play-throughs), and now he was running late. Rodrigo had told him to "dress slutty", so he pulled on his favorite rust-red jock, a pair of ripped black jeans, a tight Team Instinct tank top, and black converse. He'd never really heard much about Venture, the place they were headed, other than the fact that things could get pretty wild.

Rodrigo showed up, looking like sex incarnate in blue jeans, a backward baseball cap, and a snug Henley with the unmistakable outline of a harness obvious beneath it. They caught up and pregamed on vodka Red Bulls (Zeph only tolerated unspeakably sweet alcoholic drinks) and weed before staggering their way to the bus stop, laughing at in-jokes they hadn't exercised in months.

The bus ride was uneventful. Caleb was apparently going to meet them there later. When Zeph pressed for details, Rodrigo had smiled boyishly and filled him in. They were thinking about taking a really big step, apparently, and things had been going really well. Zeph had leaned his head against his friend's sculpted shoulder while he spoke, glowing with vicarious, encouraging happiness.

"Zeph, things might get kind of intense tonight. Just find me and Caleb if anything goes bad, 'kay?" Zeph had rolled his eyes, but Rodrigo pressed the point until he'd agreed.

It was around ten-thirty when they got into the line, which was already several bodies deep. It was a Tuesday, so it wasn't exactly hopping. Something in Rodrigo's body language changed as they joined the others awaiting entrance. He stood a little taller, and his gaze got sort of cold. It was like he was trying out for a modeling gig or something. Zeph straightened as well and tried to look similarly cool, but he wasn't sure he was pulling it off. The two of them didn't quite fit in. Zeph elbowed Rodrigo in the side and whispered out of the corner of his mouth: "Dude, you didn't tell me it was goth night."

That earned him a dirty look from a woman who looked like she'd been born in the back room of a Hot Topic. Zeph smiled sheepishly in reply.

It took a few minutes for them to make it to the bouncers. Two of them were standard issue Gregor Cleganes in black tee-shirts, but third was a buff Asian guy who Zeph couldn't take his eyes off of. He caught the nymph staring and smirked before returning to his solemn vigil. One of the big guys eyed Zeph like was messy handwriting. "He's cool, Powell. He's with me." Rodrigo was doing something weird with his voice, like he was trying to sound more masc or something. Powell continued to look dubious until the Asian guy whispered something to him. Grunting assent, he let them through. Zeph spared one last longing look over his shoulder and was rewarded with a wink and a devious smile from his newest crush.

"Do you know that guy?" he whispered to Rodrigo.

"Jason? Kinda. You are so fucking obvious, Lasagna. You're lucky you're cute." Rodrigo grinned wolfishly and led him in.

Zeph was trying to remember if this place had dancing. The lounge are seemed cool and all, but he got a little stir crazy just sitting and drinking. Was that a movie theater? It looked like a movie theater, and a little too fancy to just be the porn kind that some sex clubs had. This didn't look like a sex club. It didn't look particularly wild either. The room was aesthetically pleasing, and the patrons that matched. People were scattered around, taking the term lounge very literally, fairly draped across the chairs and couches. He was wide-eyed as he surveyed his new surroundings, at least until Rodrigo gave him a whack on the back of his head. "Cool it, chico tonto. You look like a fucking tourist." He sounded a little annoyed. Zeph pouted and followed him to the bar.

Rodrigo frowned apologetically. "Sorry, it's just I know people here. Caleb's friends." He forged a smile, then reached up to ruffle Zeph's hair. "Let me buy you a drink." Zeph ordered another vodka Red Bull, but Rodrigo ordered some kind of special. The bartender seemed to know him, and they exchanged a bit of small talk before the two headed to some vacant seats.

"Seems like you're here a lot, yeah?"

Rodrigo nodded. "Caleb likes it here. I do too." He shrugged. Zeph launched into every question he had about Venture, and Rodrigo did his best to satisfy him. In the middle of the interrogation, a man drew up to them. Rodrigo looked up at him and offered a tight smile. "Vance. Can I help you?" Zeph got the sense that Rodrigo was not Vance's biggest fan. He looked the man over. Like everyone else here, he was hot. Pale, with blond hair and patrician features. His eyes were like blue chips of ice. His attire was wack though. Some kind of elaborate leather jacket that almost looked like it belonged in an Assassin's Creed game, and combat boots. He smiled hungrily at Zeph.

"Who's your friend?" His eyes never left Zeph. Zeph blinked up at him, slowly, and took a sip from his drink while Rodrigo replied.

"Zeph. He's not on the menu." Rodrigo's voice had acquired just the slightest edge. Zeph blinked again. That was kind of a weird thing to say, after all, and honestly, even if he was dressed like a Level 1 Night Elf, Zeph was verging on the level of drunk where he called literally everyone "Daddy".

"A pity." Vance turned his icy gaze on Rodrigo. "Naomi wishes a word. Your friend should wait here." The words were delivered in a tone of command Zeph had only ever heard from his actual father, and he decided that he was probably glad Rodrigo had 86'd him.

Rodrigo glanced to Zeph, and Zeph nodded slowly. "Yeah, go for it, I'll be fine." Who was Naomi? Why was Rodrigo being summoned? Was it some kind of crime-thing? That could explain his friend's absence. As Rodrigo stood and disappeared into one of the rooms that branched off the lounge, flanked by Vance, Zeph's mind ran through a half-dozen possibilities. He came to no solid conclusion and abandoned the mystery in favor of people-watching. Apparently they'd arrived just in time, because the place was gradually starting to fill up.

[Trillian]

Ben's eyes fluttered open to find his sire watching him, a serene expression on his face. He bid Kerr good morning, offering him a beatific smile, while inside he remained conflicted. Shouldn't he be happy to wake up to Kerr's face? Especially since he thought he'd lost his sire permanently and had been given a second chance? Why was he feeling weirded out then? Why did he feel crowded?

Those contradictions within him - the opposition of head and heart - thrummed their way along the bloodline so that Kerr knew exactly how he was feeling. Ben saw it happen on his face, in a myriad of micro-expressions - too fast for mortal eyes but not for vampiric ones. He saw, clearly, how at first Kerr was affronted and then saddened, his smile changing from pure love to love hiding hurt. The most insidious crack between him and Kerr had formed because Kerr was no longer his walking, talking, memory puppet; no longer saying things Ben wanted him to say, or doing things Ben wanted him to do. Charon had been an expert, offering him a version of Kerr that had stemmed from both Ben's expectations and fantasies, and now the real Kerr... the one he truly loved... felt wrong. Ben knew he was at the root of their problems and he hated himself for it. Kerr felt that too and offered him excuses about how normal it was not to be normal in this situation that was anything but. Ben listened to his reasonable explanations and agreed while at the same time loving him so deeply it hurt, because he knew - he knew - that he would eventually suffocate under Kerr's guidance.

But that would happen later, and hopefully it would take decades, no, centuries, before they decided that the love was not enough to cover their frayed connection. They were like loose wires; stripped bare and forced together, but while they were connected they could at least make something work.

Since Kerr's return, he and Ben had been making the nightly journey to Venture together. Ben was still young and still had to feed twice nightly, and it was easier to go there early, find someone keen and then leave and do something together. For a couple of weeks it had been a bit like a honeymoon period together, but then reality started kicking in a number of ways. The Academy needed attention as construction shifted from the underground development to the above-ground area and Ben had to make decisions when it looked like there would be time-delays. Then news of Kerr's second coming got around and every time they went out, someone recognised him and wanted to find out what he was going to do with the city. Or sometimes Ben would be recognised for a variety of reasons, usually from his modelling, sometimes as the Academy founder.

Tonight was the first night Ben drove to Venture alone. He didn't know what Kerr's plans were but they'd agreed that spending every second of their waking time together wasn't healthy for them, and they convinced themselves and each other that when they did spend time together, it would be with a better appreciation. It was a relief for Ben, who didn't want to see that wounded expression on Kerr's face again. Not if he was putting it there.

Ben pulled into the driveway and parked in one of the three 'reserved' slots that was off to one side of Venture's small lot. A black sedan was parked in the centre space with an empty slot beside it. Ben recognised the car as being from Sacramentum, so one of the clan of ancients was here today - hopefully Charon, because the rest of his little family had accused him of bewitching their clan leader, (what a ridiculous idea, like he would be considered anything beyond a pretty toy) - but he didn't know who because they all shared their fleet of cars.

Dressed in an ochre button-down over bluejeans with loafers on his feet, he spared a thought about how nobody really layered grunge anymore. It must've been a Risk thing.

Black was still a favourite though, judging by the queue. Ben nodded acknowledgement to the staff at the door and handed his car-keys to Jason, who would put them in the lockbox behind the counter. He thought he might get asked about Kerr's absence but the question never came and he put it out of his mind.

It was too early for upstairs. The lounge always filled first before clusters of standing mortals would go upstairs to claim a booth and brave the dance floor. It was the same pattern every night. Ben wondered if this was what it was like for ancients, seeing the same patterns affect humanity time and again. Citizens happy with their status quo who lived in powerful countries with rich economies that had a gradually increasing hostile political outlook until they either imploded or exploded and the cycle would start again. This little club was a micro-environment of the same, only Ben was the one wielding the power.

Ben did as he always did; he positioned himself on a vacant seat - though the lounges were long and made for sharing. Nearby was an artificially blonde young thing that he paid no attention to, until he got a sensation of something... different about him. Ben turned his head to face him (all the better to smell him with) and focussed on the scent that was underneath all the other ones. Alcohol. Pot. Whatever he'd eaten for dinner - it smelt vaguely oriental. And... there it was.

Ben stared intently at Zeph, as though the answer could be summoned from the side of his head. It could be summoned from the inside of his head, of course, but Ben didn't want to stick his less-than-nimble fingers in there in case the other blonde was a demon and took exception to his mind being read. No... definitely not a demon. His smell didn't have that peculiar earthy tone that all demons had as their baseline. Ben mentally retraced his lessons about supernatural species, wishing he hadn't been skipping classes lately.

[suneater]

Zeph’s mind began to rove while he waited for Rodrigo to return.

The careful alchemy of vodka, insane amounts of caffeine, and reasonable amounts of THC in his blood had manifested in an uncertain, exhilarated joy that was spreading, warm and befuddling, through his form. His youthful features had lapsed into a dopey (and possibly endearing grin) that stood out amongst the scowling, posed patronage. His bright blue eyes had been rendered a little glassy, but there was still a glimmer of curiosity in them.

He was trying to decide how he felt about Venture so far. It was not what he would describe as his scene, but it had its merits (mostly in the form of imposing hotties, though none had quite captured his interest like Jason the Doorman yet). He got the sense that everyone was waiting for something but he hadn’t the faintest idea what. The conversations occurring were restrained and guarded. If he had to put on his college student hat and provide a single word for what was bothering him about the place, that word would be artificial.

Zeph was a firm believer that night spots should have a primary goal of fun. Hanging out with friends: fun. Drinking and dancing: fun. Making out with strangers: fun. Themes could be fun too, if they complimented the essentials rather than subverting them. To his estimation, it didn’t really seem like anyone in the room was having fun or interested in having fun. Even Rodrigo was treating the evening seriously, and the moment they’d gotten there, he’d been whisked off to private conference. Hopefully the dancing would at least be alright.
It didn’t occur to him to wonder what the other people in the lounge were after if not fun. Frankly, his little mental treatise on The Fun Principle As It Pertains To Bars And Nighclubs had been pretty taxing. He maneuvered his straw to his mouth and sucked down some more of the Sweet Tart flavored drink while looking around.

Situational awareness was not the air nymph’s strong suit. Lost in thought as he had been, he hadn’t noticed several people take seats nearby him. One of those people seemed to be staring at him. Like, really staring, as if he maybe knew him and was trying to remember exactly where from. He was a younger guy – younger even than Zeph, probably, maybe even a little too young to be in a bar. Zeph found those sorts of rules to be dumb. Apparently, a lot of other countries were a lot more relaxed about drinking, which appealed to his belief that people should basically be able to whatever they want as long as it didn’t hurt someone else who wasn’t into it.

Did they know each other? The stranger’s age made it feasible that he too was a student. It was possible that they’d run into one another at some party. He returned the guy’s gaze for a few seconds, trying to find some sense of recognition in those almost elfin features. Whoever he was, he was cute, but he was a strong contender for the “Most Serious Person” contest that would no doubt be happening as the evening went on. Unable to recall any prior point of contact, Zeph continued sipping his drink. His eyes tracked to the hallway Rodrigo had disappeared down, but there was no sign of his friends. Hmph.

Now that he’d noticed the other boy looking at him, he couldn’t help but sneak another peek. Sure enough, he was still staring at him. Like, really staring. Zeph was pretty sure he had never concentrated on anything half so hard as this guy was scrutinizing him. It was equal parts creepy and impressive, and if he was being honest, just a little hot.

Zeph was not, in general, a big fan of seriousness. He knew that there was a time and a place for it, and he most often embraced it while dancing. There were some things that were very serious that needed to be expressed, and plenty of music that was appropriate for doing so. Bars though? Bars were no place for seriousness, unless it was the sort of silly seriousness that accompanied some sex parties. He decided it was his job- nay, his duty- as a Champion of Fun to dispel a bit of the solemnity.

He was still grinning dopily as he met Ben’s gaze again. After just a second, he stuck out his tongue. It was a simple, childish action. His animated features were suited for silliness. He lapsed back into smiling toothily at the other boy and lifted his free hand in an easy wave of greeting.

[Trillian]

Ben watched as awareness struck the mortal... being... in stages. He knew he was staring but he still hadn't placed the scent. He was sure he'd come across it before, but rarely. Certainly, he'd not met another of his kind in here. The exotic scent and the outfit would attract Venture's true clientele to him, Ben was sure, once they started showing up. Not many vampires came so early - they tended to come en masse at one in the morning, when Venture was packed with hot, willing bodies and the choices were many.

His stare was met one more time, more obviously so now, and Ben waited for the usual rhetoric about how amazing his eyes looked (as they were glowing ice-blue). It didn't come, nor any other announcement about his looks that subtly exploited knowledge of what he was. Instead what came was a tongue.

If Ben had been forced to predict how a tongue would be used to attract his attention, he would've guessed a swipe across lips in a come-on gesture that would either create a sexy (sometimes) or unsavoury (usually) result. He certainly didn't think one would be poked out at him. He blinked his surprise, the gesture completely baffled him as to how he should respond. Poke his tongue back? Noooo.

The smile and the wave was genuine enough that Ben's lips twitched upward into a smile in spite of himself. He lifted his head in the briefest of nods and was thinking of something to say when he was approached. He sensed the pair before he turned to look at them, both young men were athletic looking, like they'd stepped off the same sportsfield. It was unusual for mortals to advance together, unless they were wanting to offer themselves as a double. Ben hadn't ever been on the receiving end of such offers, so it looked like tonight was the night that he could drink his fill. He touched their minds and discovered they were after intimacy beyond the bite and so, when they were within earshot, Ben told them no thanks. One of them started to turn away but the other was more keen.

"Just me, then?" he asked, reaching a hand up to his neck and rubbing it, as if Ben found it erogenous or something.

Not the kind to mince words or offer false hope, he shook his head and also said: "No."

Wide eyes at being rejected, the jock turned away to hunt down his friend, who might've been miffed about the second offer. Ben didn't care, he was more interested in the young man at his side. Ben turned his head again to look at him, this time with more of a smile, and wondered if the little display would cause him to look at Ben knowingly.

[suneater]

He’d earned a nod and a smile, but to Zeph it was a little like hitting the jackpot. The other boy didn’t seem like much of a smiler, and Zeph thought that was a shame. He was handsome- no, beautiful was really the word for him- but the effect was amplified exponentially with just a mote of cheer. Zeph’s mind hadn’t really wandered down a path that ended with the two of them in bed, but now he found himself wondering what else he could do to elicit a smile.

He blinked slowly when the pair of jocks closed in on his new friend. He wasn’t in any position to hear the exchange, but he figured that if the guy was looking to meet someone, he was probably off the market now. Either of his athletic would-be suitors could have easily gotten into Zeph's pants; both would have helped him achieve a locker room fantasy he'd been harboring since adolescence. His eyebrows shot up when both of their confident expressions dissolved into disappointment. Had he turned them down? He had turned them down! Zeph was shook. Not many gay men in that position would have done the same. Maybe he was taken? That would make sense. One of the pair persisted (so much for the bro code), and Zeph had to suppress a giggle when he rubbed at his neck. Completely unaware of Venture’s actual clientele, to him it looked absurd. Ooooooh look at my sexy neck, bruh, I do a lot of uh, neck lifts.  The elfin boy was similarly unimpressed, it seemed, and now both had retreated to lick the wounds to their pride.

The smile had melted away during The Jock Incident, but it was back now, and directed at him. That was all Zeph needed to proceed. The attention was particularly flattering in the wake of his having spurned two studs just seconds before. Self-esteem wasn't something that the nymph had ever struggled with, but it did feel good to be chosen. He settled his empty glass on a nearby table and rose fluidly to his feet.

There was a stark difference between Zeph inert and Zeph in motion. He had a tendency to sprawl that minimized the appeal of his body. His upper body lacked the definition indicative of regular weightlifting; if it weren't for the broadness of his shoulders, he probably would have fallen under the classification of slim to most observers. Without having to work to carry his weight, his long legs were merely that- long, sometimes to the point of awkwardness. More than a few people had nearly tripped over his feet while he was watching the crowd.

Movement changed everything. Even the acts of standing and taking the few steps it would take to end up in front of Ben looked graceful and powerful when Zeph was the one taking them. Particularly for someone so young, he seemed to have unparalleled control over his body. Every muscle was working in concert, reveling in the simplicity of being used. The tight jeans he was wearing suddenly appeared inadequate for the task of containing his thighs, hamstrings, calves, and ass (which was, in a word, perfect). Even the way he reached up to run a hand through his platinum-blond hair was so sublime that it might strike onlookers as choreographed. If there were any Toreadors in the room who hadn't taken notice of Zeph before, they certainly had now.

Unfortunately, it only took an instant for him to clear the space between him and the beautiful, smiling stranger. Zeph's grin threatened to swallow his ears as he looked down at him. "Um. Hi. I'm Zeph. Mind if I...?" His right hand indicated the empty space on the seat to Ben's immediate left. Zeph's voice was a pleasant, slow tenor. There was a hint of the West Coast in his inflection- a tendency to veer upward at the end of sentences that threatened to make a question of almost every phrase. While he awaited his response, the nymph used his proximity to get a better look at the boy in blue and yellow. He also stretched, absently, clasping his hands at the small of his back and then retracting his rolling his shoulders to ease a bit of the tension he'd accrued while sitting. The motion caused his tank top to ride up, exposing a ribbon of pale abdomen that Ben would note was cut, suggesting definition beyond the six-pack so many men craved.

There was no conscious seduction inherent in any of it. In fact, Ben would get the sense that very little of Zeph's behavior since he'd noticed him was particularly calculated. His friendly gaze had never left the vampire, and his grin hadn't dimmed even a watt.

[Trillian]

Ben changed his mind about the mortal being wasted, because he certainly looked sober in a hurry as he stood to make his way over. Really, all he'd had to do was slide himself across the cushions and he could be at Ben's side - there was nobody between them. Ben's arrogance led him to an accurate assumption; that getting up and moving over was for his benefit. He did like how fluidly the young man moved, and if he'd thought him human before, that ethereal grace removed all doubt. He had presence as well. Ben was strongly reminded of the higher paid models he'd done photoshoots with in New York. He'd walked, they'd glided. He'd flop down on chairs and they'd ooze onto them. If it wasn't for his face, he wouldn't have belonged.

Thinking of them also reminded him of the antics he'd got up to with them. He pushed those memories out of his mind - a dangerous association when looking up at this new guy, who smelled enticing. Ben had half expected him to wordlessly straddle him but that would likely have led to an awkward exchange. Instead, he got a name, Zeph, and a request to sit.

"Sure," he said, paying attention to how Zeph arranged himself on the cushion beside him. Ben shifted to accomodate, his left arm settling across the top of the couch's low back, so he could look at this new person properly. He could still smell alcohol and pot, but was starting to make justifications that he didn't have to drink from clean donors all the time. He was still stuck on what Zeph was, but first he had a name to offer him. Leaning forward once Zeph was settled, he tilted his mouth towards Zeph's ear (which wasn't pointed, so he wasn't the kind of fae who had those) and spoke his name: "Ben" while grateful that the lounge area didn't have music so loud that the other wouldn't be able to hear him. Upstairs was different, but they could go upstairs later... if they didn't go behind the curtain down here.

[suneater]

Zeph didn't do wasted. Wasted was seldom fun. He'd had something of a steep learning curve when it came to intoxication, being a bit of a lightweight. He'd discovered his limits after the first few hangovers and was careful to stick to them, leaning more into pot when he decided to mix things up. Most of the time he ended up dancing most of it off, purging the booze with sweat and going home clear-headed. It was only because movement was such an inherent part of him that he didn't evince inebriation en route. He was too honed to sway or stagger, at least when he was pacing himself. If Ben wanted evidence beyond the scent of vodka, he'd find it in Zeph's eyes; they had a little more gloss to them than was entirely normal.

The walk wasn't only for Ben's benefit. He'd been sitting for too long. He wasn't fond of it, and if he hadn't been waiting for Rodrigo he might have been pacing or wandering. It felt fantastic to stand, to stretch, to put his body to even the most moderate use. Ooze wasn't the right word for his descent onto the cushion beside Ben. It was too fluid. Zeph lowered himself neatly, smoothly, and swiftly the moment he'd been granted permission to sit. It was an active process, rather than simply letting go of himself and allowing the seat to catch him.

He leaned back, letting his head tilt to rest gently against the arm Ben had slung across the back of the couch. Zeph's hair was soft, lending credence to the fact that its color was natural rather than the result of peroxide and dye. He put himself on just a slight angle so that he could watch Ben lean in. When he imparted his name, Zeph could feel the faintest hint of breath on his ear and neck. He shivered reflexively. His grin softened as he sank into the couch, eyes never leaving his new acquaintance. "Hi Ben," he said simply. Alcoholic warmth was starting to spread from his stomach outward. His left hand lifted lazily until it met Ben's, and he delicately traced the tip of his index finger across the pad of the vampire's thumb. If Ben didn't stop him, the tracing would continue slowly, mapping the bones of his hand from above the skin with gentle deliberation.

"It's my first time here," he declared absently, closing his eyes for a few seconds and then opening them again. "My friend says there's dancing. Do you dance?" A bit of mischief crept into his grin, crooking a single corner of it. "You don't look like you dance."

[Trillian]

When hair brushed against his arm, Ben had expected to feel brittle strands and was pleasantly surprised when his skin encountered softness. It influenced him to chase his thoughts further down the Fae line, as to what Zeph was. He knew there were thousands of different kinds, but he also knew that they did fall under generalisations. He wanted to guess without peeking.

When his hand was played with, Ben didn't pull away - there was something comforting in that touch. If he was honest with himself, he knew his instinct would be to move his hand away except he was considering Zeph as his donor. There would be a great deal more touching (and clinging), then. When Zeph confessed it was his first time here, Ben wondered if he meant at this particular club instead of Risk, or if he meant his first time going to a vampire club. He felt conflicted, wondering if he should warn the other about his enticing smell and the fact he'd be getting a lot of attention, but that attention could be the reason he was here. He wasn't behaving particularly shy, and Ben could hear that his heart wasn't hammering in his chest. No fear, no tension, Zeph was relaxed. It could've been the weed, though.

Zeph was talking again before Ben had time to comment on the 'first time' thing. Now he'd moved the conversation to dancing, and it came with a prompt. Zeph was right, Ben didn't dance - he'd been too self-conscious in his mortal years and now there was no desire for it.

He leant forward again, using the need to talk into Zeph's ear to be heard as an excuse to draw in closer to that scent. He was sure that he could place it if he could identify what it reminded him of. Ben drew a lot closer this time, his backside almost leaving the seat entirely so his mouth could be mere centimetres from Zeph's ear. Here the smell was strongest and Ben took in Zeph's smell without being weird about it. Discretion was a thing.

"Did you come here just to dance?" he asked, pulling back a little - not all the way - so he could look at Zeph's face for a true reaction. Expressions would flit across, betraying his true feelings regardless of what was said. It occured to him that Zeph would also be able to smell him; his soap, shampoo, a tiny dash of cologne (because anything else overpowered his sensitivity to smell). He wondered if vampires had a smell to them, to Zeph's kind. It didn't occur to him that Zeph might not know. He'd been let in through the door, after all.

[suneater]

When Ben didn’t protest or pull away, Zeph continued his tactile exploration. He confined himself to Ben’s hand, continuously running a circuit, brushing his knuckles and fingertips in a way that would probably prove quite soothing. The nymph had a gift for touch, and the persistent contact would prove intimate but not particularly sensual. He didn’t appear to be spending conscious thought on it at all- his focus was on Ben’s fine features, specifically, trying to keep them in focus so that he could appreciate them. With Ben so close that his lips were nearly in contact with Zeph’s ear, it proved challenging. He gave up after a few seconds, opting to instead face forward and close his eyes, giving Ben unfettered access to both his ear and, unwittingly, his neck. It was a pleasant way to carry out a conversation, and the nymph looked beyond content as he lounged.

Ben’s olfactory quest would yield a wealth of information. Pot and diet had already been covered; the next threshold was the faint residue of the incense that Zeph had more or less become addicted to in recent months. His favored combination of sage, cedar, and amber was easily detected, mostly on his clothes, but on his skin and hair as well. Ben would also detect a sweet, fruity, completely artificial note derived from the flavored vape juices he sometimes indulged. After that came grooming products: some harsh molecules of hairspray, and then a touch of lavender from his favorite natural soap. No cologne or fragrances.

Beneath that, he simply smelled clean. Overwhelmingly clean. Ben might not ever have experienced air as fresh and free of pollutants as Zeph’s natural scent. Air that fresh barely existed in the modern world, even in remote places. It was the almost invigorating- like breathing air that predated society and its ravaging of the natural world, conjuring the feeling of a perfect day in a bygone Spring.

If Zeph was picking up anything from Ben, it didn’t show. Of all the many things he was, the nymph was decidedly not a skilled dissembler. His contentment seemed genuine and effortless, at least until Ben replied to him. Zeph’s nose wrinkled ever so slightly, an obvious show of annoyance, and he let out a sigh. “No, I came here with my friend, but he had to go talk to someone.” He opened his eyes and shifted to peer at Ben. “Rodrigo?” It seemed like some of the patrons knew him; maybe Ben did

He might, if he’d been paying attention to anyone but Kerr on his visits since his sire’s return. If not Rodrigo, he might know of Caleb, a Brujah involved with a small coterie of mercenaries who had started hanging around in the past year or so. Caleb had a bit of a reputation for cruelty and had been known to humiliate his newest mortal companion in public. Rodrigo, for his part, seemed to get off on it. Their relationship was probably complicated, and rumor had it that Rodrigo might be joining the glamorous ranks of the undead before long.

If Zeph was aware of the true nature of the venue, it really didn’t show. He didn’t have the air of someone being evasive or tricky; his responses were natural, and his expressions and body language complimented them. While he waited for Ben to respond, he boldly twined the fingers of their left hands together and tugged down, pulling Ben’s arm down so that it was draped across Zeph’s shoulder rather than the couch. Provided that Ben didn’t resist, his thumb would brush lazily across the vampire’s palm while their fingers remained loosely entangled.

[Trillian]

All of the smells of Zeph's activities and choices came at once, but Ben focussed on what underpinned them all. There was something about Zeph's scent that reminded him of roses - not because he smelt like the flowers, but because of how they'd changed for him. What little he'd been able to glean from them with muted mortal senses had exploded into a plethora of smells and vivid emotion that had initially overwhelmed him. Zeph was the same, and his smell reminded Ben of the European alps he'd visited the year before, and the trickling streams that he'd walked beside, freshly filled with melting snow.

Nature fae?

The touch on his hand was peculiar as well. Ben could feel that pressure was applied, but it also had a light, feathery quality to it. Zeph's skin was oddly more compliant, and since he was so tactile, he might notice that Ben's skin was a little cooler than room temperature - and the air-conditioning was running a little on the cold side, since there weren't enough bodies to heat it up. He might not notice that Ben's skin was smooth and without those little nicks, scratches and imperfections that skin gathered over time. Ben had only a couple of freckles from his mortal time in the sun - he hadn't been an outdoorsy during the daytime sort of person when he'd had the opportunity, so he didn't really miss the sun - but it might be explained away by his youthful features and that he hadn't the time to collect the small damages that just living life caused to one's body, even though he would now be a year shy of thirty.

He was secretly delighted that Zeph's friend had fucked off somewhere. Ben didn't know a Rodrigo, but he knew Rodrigo wasn't a vampire, they tended to smother their mortal companions in their scent. He might have scrolled past Caleb's or Rodrigo's name at the Academy, if they'd signed up for any vampire-related courses, but he certainly wouldn't remember them. There were so many vampires that treated their mortal companions like crap that an abusive relationship between the two species wouldn't have stood out and certainly wouldn't have made Ben look twice. He didn't know about Caleb's little gang either, though the Sacramentum would've. Ben wasn't privvy to Sacramentum business, though.

When Ben's hand was pulled onto Zeph's shoulder, he gave a light laugh and closed in again, back to that space at the fae's ear (because he'd decided that Zeph was most definitely a fae of some kind), so he could make his proposition.

"When Rodrigo comes back, will you be waiting here for him, or come with me behind the curtain?"

Behind the curtain was a known reference for being taken to the private rooms - the size of generous changing rooms - for vampires to drink from their donors. Ben was keen enough to drink from Zeph to overlook the impurities of his blood. He would've liked to experience the fae without the extra stuff, all the better to taste him with, but the opportunity was in front of him right now and he didn't want to miss out. He hoped Zeph was flighty enough to abandon his friend (who'd abandoned him first), and was into Ben enough and not intimidated by the bite enough to change his mind about it. The 'first time' comment had triggered Ben's protectiveness as well as his greed. He could make Zeph's first experience with the bite immensely pleasurable, while also not taking advantage of him. Much like what Ben had experienced at the hands of Kerr.

[suneater]

Zeph was not much of an observer. Despite playing with Ben's hand for a moment, he'd failed to notice the lack of either warmth or blemishes. The former was easily explained. He himself was feeling rather warm, so he almost expected Ben to feel cold, so much that it didn't even register. The overpowering air conditioning felt great. The latter... well, Ben was pretty enough that it made sense. Zeph was more likely to attribute his perfect skin to a life of leisure and an excellent moisturizing regimen than anything else. The softness and smoothness of them was enjoyable enough that he wasn't likely to second-guess any of it.

He gave Ben's hand a squeeze when the other young man leaned in again. He canted his head, making himself even more accessible to his new companion. He'd been expecting a reply, but instead he received a proposition.

Wild was the word Rodrigo had used, and he'd told Zeph to dress slutty. There were plenty of gay bars that had areas sectioned off for hanky-panky, so the idea of a curtain dividing said areas from the rest of the establishment made sense. Zeph's tongue slipped out to wet his lips as he considered the proposal. Ben had turned down about 380 pounds of hottie for his sake. It wouldn't be right to deny him- not that Zeph was anywhere near a denial. His alcohol-and-weed-laden blood had begun coursing into his dick the instant he'd comprehended what Ben was suggesting. He liked this quiet, serious boy. He was curious what he was into, and what he looked like without clothes on. His thumb began to rub a slow, insistent circle along the palm of Ben's hand.

Rodrigo had been gone for too long to be mad that Zeph had found someone to entertain himself. Well, he could be mad, but he wouldn't really be justified. He certainly hadn't come out to sit on a couch and do nothing.

His grin had turned into something toothy and naughty, and the desire kindling in his eyes was obvious. He turned his head to the side, intent on brushing his lips across Ben's in a haphazard, drive-by kiss. There wouldn't really be much time to react before Zeph released Ben's hand so that he could get to his feet. The process looked more like a body roll, smooth and seductive. It would grant Ben an unfettered view of his rear, including the small tear in his jeans on the back of his right thigh that revealed pale skin and just a hint of the fabric of his jock. He paused in place for a second - head rush - then turned and offered Ben a hand up.

"Lead the way."

[Trillian]

Ben had expected a small head movement from the fae - a brief nod or shake. He certainly hadn't expected the head turn and brush of the other's lips against his own. It was the first clue that Zeph might be anticipating more from Ben than just the bite... exactly the reason why Ben had refused the other pair. Zeph would be easier to control, though, if any attempts were made.

Feeling affronted and lips still tingling with the memory of the touch on them, Ben continued to sit as Zeph morphed to his feet - at least that's what it looked like to Ben, as though mass had merely been shifted from one point to another instead of exerting energy against the pull of gravity. Ben took Zeph's hand and also gracefully rose to his feet, but he had nothing on Zeph. With the instruction on his mind and caution growing within, he led his prize past other mortals who took note of them with jealous eyes.

He approached a burgundy velvet curtain and pushed it aside. Plush and heavy, it fell back into place after the pair moved through. They walked a short way down the corridor, passing multiple cubicle-style rooms, all with their doors open. Inside all of them was a two-seater sofa that had been built into the room, absorbed into the wood panelling. Opposite each beige leather sofa were bundles of cushions thrown together with artful casualness. The colour choices within were contemporary but mostly neutral, golden ash woods, beiges, hints of black and silver - only the cushions dared to defy with bold colours of teals and pinks and striking patterns of zigzags or ripples. There were also a couple of silver hooks on the walls upon which to hang items like bags, or clothing.

Ben selected one of the rooms three doors down and entered first, pulling Zeph in by the hand and then turning to shut the door and flick the lock. He'd chosen the side whose rooms were on the side of the exterior of the building. The music could still be heard here, but the only thing that had any influence was the pounding bass - akin to a racing heartbeat.

After ensuring they wouldn't be barged in on, Ben turned to look at where Zeph had arranged himself.

[suneater]

One of Zeph's eyebrows curved upward slightly at Ben's reaction - or lack thereof - to the quick kiss. He'd been hoping for at least another smile, but instead... neutrality. It was almost worse than rejection, if only because he didn't know what it meant. He was just about to apologize for the thoughtless forwardness when Ben accepted his assistance and joined him in standing. Uncertainty had etched itself into the nymph's youthful features, but he mustered a smile and let Ben lead him out of the lounge. His focus remained on Ben, trying to glean something, anything about his state of mind from his expression and body language, so he failed to note the envious attention that followed them.

When they reached the curtain, his puzzlement only increased. He had been expecting something simple, black, rough. The curtains that he was used to in the situations he was envisioning only had one virtue: opacity. Meant only to separate the writhing bodies from the rest of the bar, such curtains were never really part of the decor. They allowed the men on one side to embrace the anonymity of the back room, to shuck their clothes without fear of judgment, to check their reservations and modesty. The men on the other side could go about their night secure that they were separated from the degenerates present, but usually they kept an eye on who was moving in and out.

Most of Zeph's experiences in such places had been as an observer. There was something fascinating about the way that gay men behaved in darkened spaces where sex was sanctioned. It was a chance to see men he might never look at in that light give in to desire. On a certain level, he did like to watch, and usually ended up stroking himself to completion, but there was something almost spiritual about it as well.

Ben disappeared beyond the curtain, and Zeph, tethered to him by their joined hands, plunged in as well. Again, his surrounding subverted his expectations. He had been envisioning a communal space, dark and a little dirty. He'd fully expected it to be vacant- usually, this particular sort of fun didn't start until later in the evening- but not austere. It reminded him of a speakeasy cocktail bar that Lindsey had dragged him to once. The place had no name and an infinite waiting list and was sectioned off into private booths for two or four, no more and no less. If Ben regarded him then, he'd see plain confusion scrawled on Zeph's face, accentuated by his tipsiness.

Intrepid Ben directed him into a room and then turned to close the door. The fact that there was a door at all was baffling. What was this place? Some kind of designer had clearly been involved in the furnishing and color schemes of the small rooms. They were obviously meant for something, but not at all what Zeph had in mind. He'd been hoping to make out, to grope, and maybe suck Ben off. He didn't mind making Rodrigo wait a bit, but he also wasn't planning to go missing for an hour.

When Ben turned, Zeph had still not yet arranged himself. He was standing a few paces inside of the room, turning slowly as he drank in the details. As his turn completed, it would bring him to face Ben, and the vampire would be hard-pressed to ignore the confusion scrawled across his face. He looked like he was thinking, very hard, and he was. He was synthesizing all of the information available: Ben's rebuffing the jocks and then choosing to instead smile at the solitary boy across the couch, the fact that he hadn't been drinking, his detached demeanor, his disdain for the kiss, and now, this strange place. Ben would get to watch as realization dawned- the widening of his eyes, the slight "o" formed by his mouth. His gaze averted to the ground and then lifted to fall on Ben once more.

"Umm, I'm not sure exactly how to ask this." He rubbed sheepishly at his neck. "But are you, um, you know-"

He paused, trying to tame the fluttering bird of nervousness that was buffeting its wings inside his chest. He resolved himself, swallowed, and finally forced the question out.

"Are you, like, a prostitute?"

[Trillian]

Ben found himself smiling at Zeph as he struggled through his attempt to clarify exactly what Ben was. It brought him back to his first memory of meeting a vampire for himself at Risk, and the way he'd looked around the club before whispering 'Are you one of them?' Kerr had played dumb, or maybe he'd just been looking for confirmation that Ben knew what was going on, but then he'd confirmed it. Yes. Yes, he was one of them... he was a-

prostitute?!

His mind superimposed 'vampire' over the top of Zeph's word, which was why Ben faltered in his reaction for the barest of moments, still smiling until it registered. His expression changed to confusion, mirroring what had been on Zeph's face earllier when he hadn't noticed. Why did Zeph think that he was a prostitute? It was baffling to think he wouldn't go straight to 'vampire' in a vampire club.

Wait.

Ben touched on Zeph's mind, his stare into Zeph's eyes rather intense as he found that he had to press a little more firmly than usual to enter the fae's thoughts. He didn't have the specialised touch that the bouncers had on the door, not knowing where he needed to look to see if Zeph had knowledge of his kind or not. Instead, he explored whatever he could, seeing Zeph's earlier confusion at the feeding rooms and his unfamiliarity with what they could be used for. Okay, that was enough for Ben to make a deduction. Now he had a dilemma. He pulled back from Zeph's thoughts and his expression softened.

"No, nothing like that. Sit and talk for a sec?"

He gestured at the built-in sofa, hoping Zeph would stay. Did the fae suspect vampires? Ben had managed to get into Risk with the same idea on his mind - that he was sure, he was certain, he just hadn't met one yet. Perhaps Zeph had done the same with Venture, though the restrictions on entry were a lot tighter here. Maybe Zeph and his friend had snuck in. Ben was going to hunt down this Rodrigo fellow and confront him about what he knew. What sort of asshole abandons a clueless friend in a fucking vampire club?

[suneater]

Zeph seemed completely unaware of the mental intrusion. Some fae creatures might have been gifted when it came to mental prowess, but the nymphs were not among them. When Ben stared at him, the intensity dialed up to 11, poor Zeph was caught up in his gaze, an apology dying on his lips before he could even utter it. Clearly he was wrong, and even more clearly, Ben was pissed. There were a dozen things Zeph wanted to say - that he didn't judge, that he was flattered, that he'd once been Venmo'd forty bucks to do a cam show for a guy in New Zealand - but he couldn't quite get any of them to come out. He decided it was better to wait for Ben to say something. Yeah. That made sense. At least he hadn't slapped him or stormed out of the room or something.

When he saw the intensity flag and Ben's features gentle, Zeph felt enormous relief. When he spoke, Zeph nodded egregiously, yup, yes, he was happy to sit and talk. His cheeks, already faintly flushed with drink, went an even brighter red as embarrassment set in. He had just asked a totally cute guy if he was a prostitute. He padded to the sofa and drew himself down on one side of it, shifting to rest in the crook where the arm met the back. He dragged one of the decorative pillows into his lap and began fiddling nervously with the deep purple tassel hanging from one corner.

The many thoughts he'd been holding in exploded out in a deluge. "I'm so sorry, it's just, this place is so weird and you're really mysterious and kind of hard to read and you could have like, anyone here but you picked me so I thought maybe it was a good idea to make sure before we did anything because... yeah." He shrugged sort of helplessly, hugging the pillow to his stomach. He seemed to be sobering up, at least a little, because he'd managed to get through the entirety of his word vomit without a slur or a stumble. He watched Ben carefully, hoping he hadn't fucked things up beyond repair.

"For the record, if you were a prostitute we could still totally be friends, or even, you know, do stuff. I'm mad sex positive. Just like, not into paying for it." OhmygodwhydidIsayanyofthat?!?!