[ a simple invite is all it took to drag pietro to a party at brakebills. it's the first time he's come in through what he thinks are the front doors, instead of some whimsical portal that so oft leaves he and eliot sprawling on the royal blue of his bed sheets. a passing comment about a party, free drinks, and pretty faces and pietro knew he had to come.
and he's been mingling for the better part of an hour now after some pretty faced brunette insisted he speak with her now and even pietro can see the woman has a way of commanding anyone's attention. she'd even had his, which is impressive considering the way eliot's fingers had been tickling at the waistband of his jeans. so he's taken to roaming, finding there's no lack of conversation, the magicians of all types intrigued and interested and predatory in a way pietro can feel.
but drinks appear, brought to him by several different people, all fruity and brightly colored which notes a theme. a theme too reminiscent of a night spent sitting at the bar waiting for a curly haired man, only to receive a rain check in the form of alcohol. it had always been tailored to him, which pietro found charming, but couldn't place why. but it is of no consequence now - it makes his cheeks burn a little warm after the third cocktail, the fourth making him take it slow.
they were only meant to be a one night stand. a fun party favor. and yet here he is, nearly a month later at the very house he's sure everyone's heard him come in.
now that's a thought.
the drink that comes next interrupts him and a pretty, blond-haired man with fair eyes, who leans a little too close and speaks against his ear. it's exciting, especially as he feels the zing of magic along his spine. but before the fair haired man can make any move, another drink arrives, and pietro all but barks out a laugh as he takes it. it's citrus - nectarine sweet - and the scent alone makes him salivate, makes his eyes roam.
these drinks? they're not coming from just anyone. and even as the blond boy leans to kiss pietro's neck, his head turns and somehow that icy gaze falls on eliot, perched on an ornate couch far across the room. pietro haphazardly pushes the pretty boy away. ]
Ah, sorry, yes? I think I must go.
[ he grins, a flash of teeth, and starts weaving through the room only to come up behind eliot on the couch and dangle the drink in front of his nose. ]
Devět. Do you know what this means, little petal?
no subject
and he's been mingling for the better part of an hour now after some pretty faced brunette insisted he speak with her now and even pietro can see the woman has a way of commanding anyone's attention. she'd even had his, which is impressive considering the way eliot's fingers had been tickling at the waistband of his jeans. so he's taken to roaming, finding there's no lack of conversation, the magicians of all types intrigued and interested and predatory in a way pietro can feel.
but drinks appear, brought to him by several different people, all fruity and brightly colored which notes a theme. a theme too reminiscent of a night spent sitting at the bar waiting for a curly haired man, only to receive a rain check in the form of alcohol. it had always been tailored to him, which pietro found charming, but couldn't place why. but it is of no consequence now - it makes his cheeks burn a little warm after the third cocktail, the fourth making him take it slow.
they were only meant to be a one night stand. a fun party favor. and yet here he is, nearly a month later at the very house he's sure everyone's heard him come in.
now that's a thought.
the drink that comes next interrupts him and a pretty, blond-haired man with fair eyes, who leans a little too close and speaks against his ear. it's exciting, especially as he feels the zing of magic along his spine. but before the fair haired man can make any move, another drink arrives, and pietro all but barks out a laugh as he takes it. it's citrus - nectarine sweet - and the scent alone makes him salivate, makes his eyes roam.
these drinks? they're not coming from just anyone. and even as the blond boy leans to kiss pietro's neck, his head turns and somehow that icy gaze falls on eliot, perched on an ornate couch far across the room. pietro haphazardly pushes the pretty boy away. ]
Ah, sorry, yes? I think I must go.
[ he grins, a flash of teeth, and starts weaving through the room only to come up behind eliot on the couch and dangle the drink in front of his nose. ]
Devět. Do you know what this means, little petal?
[ ... Nine drinks so far. ]