exitiabile | wearing a warning sign;

wearing a warning sign;

𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕥/𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠

ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ

ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴇ, I'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏʟᴇ

ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ

ᴍʏ ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴏ sɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ sɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs sᴏɴɢ

ɪғ sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟʏʀɪᴄs

sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇɴ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

{ there's a slow blink on his end when he realizes that the first year boy hadn't left. his attention was so absorbed in pietro even from far away that everyone else became an instant blur. he's perceptive when it's important and perpetually dismissive to the rest without any remorse. }

You should see my GPA. { piss poor compared to his party skills. it's not his fault he just gets it faster than most and focuses on endless flasks instead. he isn't challenged enough. eliot moves the conversation away from potentially losing pietro's interest. he dances his fingers along the forearm on his chest as he catches sight of the flush. it suits pietro. distractingly so.

he's not the only one noticing. with a smirk, he lifts an eyebrow in the direction of the first year (and honestly eliot has forgotten his name), as if it isn't clear that dibs have been called. something of which magicians like to do around brakebills for the fun of it, not to be taken seriously but honored at first. it causes the idle fingers from playing with his tie, causes the longing towards the way pietro's jeans are accenting his lower back to halt as they get up and finally leave.

eliot didn't need to express it, but he won't stop pietro from exploring if he so sought it, if he so wanted to sample more magicians. it won't take the odd feeling away, but he ignores that part. he'll just roadblock as a reminder that he'll always be better. he fully takes pietro's drink from him and proceeds to lick off the salt at the rim where pietro missed. }

Maybe you have a secret admirer? You're a powered being, but you have your limits. Perhaps they should stop. You're not starving for attention, darling.

[ pietro doesn't catch the quiet, magician warfare made over the quirk of an eye and a smirk, but the spot beside eliot opens up and there's victory in the way his fingers flex against the man's chest. the alcohol makes him heat up under the collar, settles him into the delight of a pleasant buzz, one that seems to loosen his shoulders, drop his defenses just so. ]

I have many secret admirers here, pěkná květina. Maybe this one does not like that so much.

[ nine drinks to interrupt even the most innocent of interactions, but it's kept pietro's attention - he'll give eliot that. he outright pouts when eliot takes the drink from him and the next move he makes is nothing but a blur. one that stirs the air in the room as he rounds the couch with a swiftness that's likely envied by most magicians even.

but instead of taking up the vacant spot next to eliot, he proceeds to settle himself between eliot's thighs, sitting prettily on one. he even leans in to lick some of the remaining salt from the glass himself, though he makes no attempt to take it. instead, he keeps eye contact with eliot the entire time.

some magicians nearby watch, drawn to the pretty powered man who has stirred up some of the dust and cobwebs, and who has no problem meeting eliot in the middle of the chess board. ]

But maybe the secret admirer is starving for attention, ano? It is so many drinks, and he might be mad you took this one from me. It is my favorite one yet. [ a huff, and he rests one forearm on eliot's shoulder, so his fingers may still toy idly with a loose curl. ] It is very sweet, like candies. But it reminds me of something else. Someone else. I don't think he'd like that, do you?

{ the fingers on his chest touching the skin between the buttons is infuriating. it leaves him with a growing greed that he has to calm down. he should be thankful for getting all his acting chops in undergrad at a very artsy school, considering he looks extremely calm on the outside and not as if he would have his way with pietro against the nearest wall — in front of everyone.

eliot instantly places a hand onto pietro’s thigh as if it’s the most natural action, glancing at the pink tongue and not hiding the way he finds it appealing. he looks back up, the weight of pietro on him feels right. he’s also hanging onto every word. }

Your favorite? You really do have a sweet tooth. Good to know. { no need to hide his intent, but it does bring forth a faux coyness to pair with their banter. he will keep the attention he’s given, let it last enough that pietro will want to come back. } A little attention doesn't hurt, could even help make the drinks sweeter.

{ for a second he becomes jealous of himself and that makes him huff out a laugh in a way one does when it’s a private joke, one that he blends into the conversation so not to confuse too much. eliot reaches over and takes hold of pietro’s jaw, running a thumb against his stubble. then he brushes it under his bottom lip where the dip lays. }

I don’t think your secret admirer likes competition. Maybe that means I need to back off? You like samples, no? This is the Costco of pretty people, you vain sweet thing. I am here to make sure you have the best time.

There are not so many sweet things in Sokovia. And this place has many.

[ pietro grins, shrugs a shoulder, as if it's the most every-day statement anyone could make. but there were plenty of sweets and riches to be had in sokovia by the wealthy, by the military. he won't forget the little lemon drops his mother would bring them when she had a few extra pennies. they had a good life, they had what they needed, but could rarely afford luxuries.

this drink reminds him of that, with it's salty and sweet. his eyes fall back to eliot when the thumb swipes along his jaw, his bottom lip and it's with a playful tilt of his head he nips at the pad of eliot's thumb, a callback to the dark of his bedroom not so long ago. ]

Costco? I do not know it. [ another shrug, and he tilts his head, into the touch of the palm, all the while his free hand comes to slide along the length of the very same arm, just willing and eager to touch. he can feel the prickle of eyes on them but pietro keeps his gaze on eliot instead, leaned in close and murmuring against his palm and wrist. ]

This drink tastes like you, pěkná květina. So I think my secret admirer is you, no? And if it is not, then I think he will have to stay very jealous if he keeps making drinks like this.

[ and the hand on eliot's arm disengages, if only so he can swipe the glass again and down the rest with his head tipped back. ]

It means you’re spoiled for choice, { he adds absentmindedly. he becomes so absorbed in watching pietro that he almost loses the conversation. to be fair, it’s infinitely distracting to have this one specific individual at his thumb. it makes it easy to meet the motions halfway, almost as if it becomes automatic in the way he’s leaning in by subtly cupping his cheek.

the stubble tickles and he has to try not to hitch his breath when his gaze lingers on the way pietro’s larynx moves when he swallows the rest of the drink. his hand moves with the tilt and motion back as if he’s just there to sedate in whatever manner pietro leads him. it is in moments like these that he can recognize he lets go of his control. it feels nice to just lay back and do basically nothing but enjoy someone’s company. there are no worries when he has a lapful of pietro and curious hands bold on his persona.

he blinks a couple times, clears his throat and recenters after a notable pause. he’s sure he hasn’t been enraptured at a party in a while that some might take note and wonder who’s holding all his attention. all they have to do is look and it’s clear, for the most part. ironically, there’s some aspects of his attraction he keeps inward. }

Clever. Was I so obvious? Do you want a reward? Choose wisely, sweetheart.

{ the hand on pietro’s thigh keeps snug, fingers curling to caress against the seam of his jeans. he ought to have some shame, considering margo had given him an amused stare. he’s sure she’s going to try and pull something. she likes to test people, especially those only just ascending into their mischievous circle.

eliot starts playing with the hair at the nape of pietro’s neck as he leans in closer, enough that he can smell the sticky sweet off their shared breathing space. }

What’s your favorite dessert?

[ it's true that there are many pretty things to choose from in this room - all with pretty faces and prettier smiles, sweet words and warm hands. yet the hand on his thigh now feels the hottest, and he's sure he can feel fingertips searing through the seam of his jeans, if only for want of more. he's reminded of the bruise there, centimetres off from where eliot's hand sits and suddenly his jeans feel a fraction tighter.

it doesn't show in his face, even as he comes back down from the drink to the nearness of the pretty man, to the space between them closing. he leans into eliot further, sliding higher in his lap so he can reach to set the empty glass on a small table behind the couch. he makes a point to lick his lips clean of the sweet citrus and salt, before his own eyes flicker back to the pretty pout of eliot's mouth. ]

The little king is easier to please this time. I do not have to work so hard for my reward.

[ he huffs a laugh, carefree and easy, and he leans in as though to kiss eliot. purposefully, however, he misses his mark, and instead his lips find the man's ear, open mouthed and hot, teeth catching on the soft of the lobe there before he speaks. ]

You are a very pretty dessert, but I do not think I should get on my knees here, ano? [ he smirks against eliot's jaw then draws back, smug and triumphant, the alcohol making him bolder as he leans in for an electric kiss, slow and sloppy in the way he licks heady and needy into eliot's mouth once, twice, then disengages. ]

It would make my secret admirer jealous. [ he licks his lips, tongue tasting of nectarines and sugar in summer. ] What do you think?

That's not— Pietro. { now that's all he can think about. for a moment he only gets a hot flash of pietro with his mouth on him in ways that would make the whole room blush. it does not help that pietro adjusts even further up on his lap so it makes their groins nearly touch. he gets his own prickle of heat as he lets out an amused chuckle, his hand naturally moving to the back of pietro's head. he runs his fingers along the hair strands, the softness of them comfortable against his knuckles as he grabs a loose handful.

eliot asks for a legitimate answer so he can be sneaky about making him his favorite pastry or something, but then pietro just makes it difficult. it's what he likes about this one, that he has to put forth an effort by chasing him down. easy, he says. perhaps he is?

he stills when he feels pietro's mouth on his ear and goodness it doesn't take much to keep his desire growing. it’s evident in the relief in being able to have his kiss for the first time that night. it does not last long enough, only leaves eliot with a slight motion forward and his eyes closed a moment longer to savor the sweet taste. }

You like the attention, { he mumbled while opening his eyes. his grip on pietro's hair tightens as his other hand travels from the jeans upward to dip partly underneath pietro's shirt. eliot caresses against skin, confirming he's dipping even more underneath the shirt when fingertips touch some abdomen. }

Do you care what your secret admirer thinks? You know what I think?

{ eliot’s hot breath is fresh when he moves it close enough that there will only be a smell of those summer nectarines. the alcohol is prominent, but not enough that it takes from the sensory he's experiencing. his restraint to behave while having a lapful of pietro is waning. he does not reach for another kiss. instead he hovers over a salacious mouth and with a subtle motion of a ghostlike brush, he lowers his tone so only pietro can hear him. }

You've never looked better. My lap suits you. It would be a shame if you left it.

[ the little protest brings forth a snort out of the silver-haired minx settled in eliot's lap, a victory emboldened by the drinks the man beneath him has sent him all evening. the buzz turns into something warmer and more persistent, bringing more color to the pretty flush from before. or maybe it's the slide of the hand beneath his shirt that does it, because the brush of fingertips makes prickles of heat sing up along his spine.

he grins like a kitten who has gotten into the milk, who has come out with cream on his nose and paws, as eliot leans closer and closer still. it's tempting to straddle his lap here and lean heavy into him, soak up all that summer warmth and drink up the sweet juice of the nectarines he's become so fond of, but he plays nice.

for now. his free hand falls to eliot's chest, fingers cheekily plucking a button free to sneak within himself and settle there, like they'd always meant to be there. his hand flexes against his chest at the barest brush of those lips and pietro finds himself chasing after for more, leaning in and capturing that salacious little mouth with his own. ]

It is a good lap, it is a good throne. [ a coy call back to their first night tangled up together and he can't help but hum again as eliot's fingers tighten in his hair. ]

So I like the attention, it is true. I like the drinks, but I think I like this more. It is sad I cannot kiss you more, but I think we would ruin this couch. And it is a good couch. [ a soft nip at his bottom lip, knowing and teasing. ]

Do you only sit in your parties? Sit and drink pretty drinks with pretty things in your lap?

{ to think someone has managed to wrangle eliot and have him actually behave is laughable. he has to recenter and lean back since he wants to have his way with pietro, but also he understands it has only been a few hours into the party. he's a host after all, he can't just disappear right away. or ruin a couch in public; this is not ibiza. pietro is both inspiring him to break his own rules and also behave at the same time. a part of him thrives in earning it.

shit. margo is so going to laugh at him. he instantly looks around for her from the corner of his eye and when does not see the fiery brunette, he relaxes. he loves her, but she has her games. and stealing the few moments he has with pietro will be limited once she shows up, since he's supposed to be making more drinks periodically. }

Glad you appreciate a proper throne. When I host, I don't sit around as much. Have to make sure to keep everyone entertained, but everyone can wait right now. I like to appreciate my pretty things first.

{ truthfully, he does not usually let his hands roam so much at parties in the way he's keeping pietro on his lap. most often it leads to going up to his bedroom or into a corner or somewhere in the hallway upstairs. it's quick. but those days are not what he does anymore. it's actually rare for him to be so on display with possessive hands and romantic intent out in the open. pietro does not need to know that part. he instead he lets the hand move further underneath the shirt, sliding over along his waist from the back until he's holding him closer, still very much touching skin.

essentially eliot has trapped them so he can keep playing with pietro's hair. there's no denying his smirk. }

Do I make you so horny that you'll soil yourself if I just kiss you?

[ pietro himself would not be so bold were it not for the alcohol and the energy of the evening. he is surrounded by people who can do magical things, and who have already shown some of their skills. it bolsters his confidence and enhances his wonder all the same, and to be sitting upon eliot's lap feels trivial in comparison.

particularly when his seat here is to lay unspoken claim on the pretty part host, at least temporarily. the fancy people here are magical, sure, but they cannot hold his attention like this. their fingers on his arm or neck or hand or face do not feel as electric as the ones traveling his waist, the ones threading into his hair. eliot has talented hands and pretty fingers, after all.

he lets his hand sit against eliot's chest, fingers pressed into his shirt, hsi thumb gently stroking over the fabric, idle and absent. as though they'd done this dozens of times before. pietro snorts again. ]

How do you know it is you who makes me horny? Maybe it is the pretty boy from before - he had many freckles. Or the girl with the red hair. Maybe it is them, yes? [ a grins and he glances around again then back to eliot, leaning in close if only so he can lower his voice where only they will hear, their noses touching and his lips a bare brush over el's: ]

But you will not know until you find me later, after you have entertained. You wanted me to meet all your pretty friends, yes?

{ when he thinks he has made a move on the chessboard that could triumph over pietro, the minx brings back another move that leaves eliot having to properly think about his next one. he does not say anything for enough of a time that might have pietro wondering what he might be thinking. he slowly smiles in a cheshire cat manner that makes him present unbothered when there's a flare that settles over him at the mention of others.

he plays with pietro's hair, twisting the strands and flickering them before kneading his knuckles against his scalp. then he straight up grips a bundle of hair with the delicacy it takes for him to hum before speaking. }

Is that your type? Freckles and red hair? Cute. Funny enough, I've never actually been with someone who has red hair. { they have done this many times before. he does not tire of it. he naturally brushes his lips back against pietro's, meeting him at his own little gestures. still, he does not give into another kiss. not yet, or perhaps he'll leave him with the desire for more and then do as the speedster wants — to chase him down.

he starts slowly moving his hand back, loosening his hold on his waist. eliot does not retreat right out, just lets his fingers dip teasingly an inch into pietro's jeans, caressing the skin there that could dangerously linger down into the swell of his ass if he so wished. eliot has better restraint and he's there to tease for now. it's subtle, hidden with pietro's shirt covering his hand. }

Yes, you have yet to meet them all. You'll have to figure out which ones are actually my friends. If you do, I might give you another reward.

[ pietro does wonder what keeps eliot quiet but he doesn't say anything to it - just turns his gaze from the pretty man's face to skim the room. everyone moves in slow motion to him in a way he's used to, but when his eyes fall on eliot he always appears to move free of slowed time. it's odd, the way the man beneath him piques his interest. maybe it's just the magic warping his view.

he hums, thoughtful, at the question, tilting his head into the fingers gripping his hair. a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. ]

My type is anyone with a pretty mouth. Maybe pretty hands. I am not so difficult.

[ a little shudder of a breath falls from his lips when eliot's hands sneak into his jeans, and icy blue eyes dart up to meet the challenge behind the hazels. it is unfair to be teased like this, the promise of a hand on his ass simply an empty one. so he lets his own fingers fall from eliot's chest, sliding down with the pull of gravity to rest on a hip, thumb swiping temptingly at the button of his pants, but little else. ]

But I do like games and I am very good at winning them. [ those tricky fingers glide along the seam of eliot's fly, delicate and gentle as if handling something precious - enough pressure to be felt, but nothing worth satisfaction - before he pats eliot's hand on his own thigh, resolute. ]

I must go see who wants to play, ano? Ready? Ah, what is it you say here? Get set? [ there's a flurry of motion, a whoosh and pop of air and pietro is gone from the man's lap. for a moment it's as if he's disappeared altogether before another gust of movement brings him to the back of the couch, his mouth pressed hot against eliot's ear, and a hand pressing an empty glass against his chest. (he knows you were watching, eliot - is what the glass would say if he could speak). some people nearby blink, watch in awe and it brings a hush to the commotion just near the couch, the rest of the room oblivious: ]

Go. [ a tilt of his head and there's an open-mouthed, biting kiss placed against the soft skin beneath eliot's ear, and pietro is gone again on a rush of air, having returned to the pretty blond thing he'd been talking to before eliot had sent his last drink. ]

{ he doesn't get to respond, but his thoughts are fast enough to do the catching up. pietro absolutely has a type, and if it is pretty then the mouth will only get more eager and the hands more skillful. magicians use their hands like livelihoods and eliot is quite good with his, evident in the way he lets his fingers press firmly onto pietro's back before he's touching air. despite how much he's been around prior, eliot absolutely has a type. passionate tends to win him over. dick helps, sure. if pretty won pietro over, then he has to wonder what will have him stay. the empty drink nearly taunts him. now he's determined. he will play the games.

nearly an hour passes when he's at the bar mixing. it is at least entertaining to watch pietro move, his charm hypnotic and leaving people intrigued. maybe he has found his match. it is then that he takes two drinks in his hand, one meant for pietro. this time it's a strawberry flavor, red colored and infused with half the alcohol he usually puts in it. eliot passes by a few people, his intent clear. }

You forgot this. { he slots behind pietro, his chest against his back. careful to not spill one drink, he holds the other over pietro's shoulder and settles it in his hand. eliot mouths against an ear, } By this rate, you won't find any of my friends. Bambi does not count. That's a given.

{ eliot does not give pietro the benefit of lingering. he has to deliver his other drink. he does wait until he can meet pietro's gaze once more, allow the treat of letting those blues stare. with a wink, he then turns and makes his way into the other room. since the cottage is expandable, they had made it fun enough to have multi-purposed rooms people can hang within. he soon finds quentin in an alcove and sits next to him, patting his knee. eliot offers the drink in a red solo cup. he's fond enough of quentin to let it slide. }

Hey, there. { immediately, there's no wasted breath and the response he gets is, "You're happier. It looks good on you." he has to wonder if quentin saw him with pietro on the couch. is that what he's been projecting? he has been less stressed despite all the mishaps magic offers in their lives. eliot reaches over, tugging the ends of quentin's jeans where his ankle is since the boy can only sit all ways but properly. he drapes his arm around him, holding him close into a brief side hug. }

Don't activate your nerd card and stay alone all night. You'll make me look bad. { with one squeeze, he lets go. it's a tease. quentin snorts, rolling his eyes and before he can get an answer in, margo excitedly rushes by them. all he hears is: "Spin the bottle, Bitches," and — "El, where's that fine piece of yours?" she's pure action so instead of waiting for an answer, she's already gone.

eliot rocks onto his feet, compelled to support her, but also just seeing her basically manhandle pietro past them makes him chuckle. just the sight of those silver strands causes his heart to swell. if pietro were to turn to look at him, he'll find eliot with a curious lift of an eyebrow and biting onto his bottom lip. the latter manifesting as a reflex in just thinking that he needs to corner pietro soon and steal a thorough kiss somewhere. preferably a kiss he can have for himself and away from prying eyes. his goal is at least one, but he'll keep playing their game. }

[ he's just found a slightly shy blonde girl to talk to when he feels the weight of eliot at his back. it's impossible not to arch into him, to lean just so into the warmth as the mouth finds his ear. as much as he's been passed around among the people here, he finds his mind wanders back to the dark haired beauty he'd sat upon before. his eye roams the crowd of people to seek eliot out. and look, he's come to visit. ]

Maybe I am not concerned with your reward, hm?

[ a taunt, a game to pretend he hadn't had eliot on the mind, that he'd forgotten their game. but eliot comes and goes, and pietro's eyes follow him through the crowd, drinking in the sight of him with piqued interest. he tastes the drink while the girl says something about magic this and oh eliot that, but the taste of strawberries on his lips makes his mind roam elsewhere.

there are so many people and so many things going on that when margo hooks him by the elbow and gives him a tug, he follows dumbly, laughing as he stumbles after her, attempting to keep his drink from spilling on both of them while they weave through the crowd. it so happens he catches eliot's eye when he turns the corner and he smirks, and with his free hand wiggles his fingers to draw the man in. ]

Come, it is a game. You like games, ano?

[ and by the time he's manhandled into a spot on the floor, the bottle is spun by none other than the head queen herself. "If it lands on you, you kiss the person who spun it," one of the magicians nearby helpfully supplies. first up is the shy blond from before and a mousy-haired boy who seem startled to be involved in the game at all, but they kiss quickly, causing a flutter of noise. a red-headed boy spins next, and when it lands on pietro, he grins and takes a sip from his drink. a glance to eliot nearly says will this boy taste you on my lips? ]

Is this bottle magic? How did it know I wanted to go next?

[ all jokes as he leans over and meets the boy in a kiss, and the boy himself seems surprised when pietro lets the kiss linger, what with the noise he makes. but pietro wants to be sure eliot can see. ]

{ the circle quickly fills and there's someone in-between them once eliot gets to a spot. he thinks then, that he won't mind any games if pietro is involved. there's an air around the man that makes eliot feel alive. he's very much watching. part of him finds pietro kissing other people attractive since he gets to see the way he moves his mouth. then it lingers, and well then… eliot scratches along the seam of his pants a little too hard, trying not to get involved with the way the red-head boy is debauched after pietro stops kissing him.

the funny thing is, the same red-head boy goes next and the bottle lands on eliot. poor lad. to be in the cross-fire. the whole time, he makes sure to look over at pietro, not caring if he's being obvious. }

Come to me, darling.

{ his voice is naturally made to give a command and he utilizes the dips of a lowered tone as he glances at the red-head boy, speaking words he means for another. rarely does eliot go to others and he will make sure to cement it. he has a reputation after all. eliot beckons the boy, using his telekinesis to tug on his belt loops, and suddenly the boy is being dragged on the floor until he's in front of eliot.

he grabs him by the tie he's wearing, instantly pulling him into a kiss, eager to see if he can taste pietro on him. there's a hint of the strawberry drink, and eliot nearly gets distracted trying to chase it by generously biting down onto his bottom lip. when he hears the other gasp softly, he halts from going further but a peck. it brings him back, so he leaves it at that before pushing on his chest to be flung back to his seat. the boy is now doe-eyed. these sorts of shenanigans happen so not everyone is surprised, but first years have to learn it on their own. eliot just happens to put on a neat display if he so wishes.

eliot glances back to pietro, the curve of his smile devilish and he hopes he can read the heat in his eyes, the one that is a response to him.

you taste good.

when it's his turn, he considers rigging the bottle. he plays accordingly for this one around. it spins and spins, slowing down until it nearly lands on pietro. eliot holds his breath, but instead it lands on the girl next to him. ( sigh. ) she's cute with her bouncy curls and sun-kissed complexion. she also gives him a nervous glance. eliot who is a person over, is able to lean in with his tall limbs and press a light kiss on her mouth. she almost looks thankful and relaxed enough to continue playing with more confidence. he knows he can be intimating with his flair.

each time, his gaze returns to pietro. }

[ the display of magic makes pietro's skin prickle, even as he watches the poor, debauched boy slide across the floors to eliot. (he idly wonders if eliot would have done the same to him, had it landed on him). and while he has no trouble watching eliot kiss him, he finds something almost competitive rises up deep from his belly when he sees the snare of those teeth.

his eyes catch eliot's and he smiles easily, leaning back on his palms as the sweet-faced girl is the next to fall into eliot's saccharine trap. she looks cutely flushed when she spins, landing on a boy he spoke to earlier - from puerto rico, if he remembers - who seems thrilled to be kissing a pretty girl. pietro can watch the bottle and see all too easily where it will end, the angle and speed of the spin in perfectly slow motion for him.

a couple of others make their rounds before the bottle lands on pietro again and this time it's a shy brunette, a girl with freckles and large, round-framed glasses. she looks as if she's seen a ghost, what with the way she grabs at her skirt hem and has to be nudged by her friend. ]

I do not bite. [ pietro smiles at her, winning and warm and charming. he suspects she was pushed into the game by her upper-year friends. she's settled to eliot's other side, however, and he wastes no time in sliding forward and leaning over the man, a hand bracing on eliot's knee, to gently touch her cheek and press a soft kiss her lips, which makes her squeak in surprise. when he draws back, he's grinning, all dimpled and soft, his nose scrunched up in amusement. ]

It is not so bad, yes? My next kiss will not be so good as this one.

[ he sits back on his heels and reaches for the bottle, examining the label with a soft "you all drink such cheap vodka" as a party joke before he spins the bottle wicked fast, letting it glimmer and twirl in front of them. as it slows, however, he settles back on his bottom, his palms behind him again to brace him.

and for the first time in many rounds, his spin lands on eliot. he tilts his head, pale eyes shifting to the pretty man a few people away from him. he makes a noise from the back of his throat, before: ]

Přijď ke mně, pěkná květina. Mm. Or, how did you say it? Come to me.

{ there’s a lot of excitement and he can feel everyone start to look eager as it lands on them. for someone like eliot, it’s mundane play. if he were honest, he would have left two rounds ago. pietro is keeping him interested. whatever prickle of intrigue is revived when he’s forced to pay attention and the bottle lands on the feisty speedster.

he nearly snorts. i do not bite is such a bullshit statement, but it does the part when his hand is on eliot’s knee. he suddenly gets a flashback of fading marks and bites on his shoulder that are sadly gone. so pardon him when he does not pay mind to the kiss before him. he nearly reaches over, fingers twitching. he plays off amusement and he really is, considering the entrapment of pietro’s silver tongue just as quick.

eliot is taken aback when the bottle lands on him next. he was fully expecting it to skip him, considering the chances. when it does, he subtly raises a brow and considers his next move. everyone is watching, practically on their seats, wondering if such a boy like pietro can draw eliot from his seat. he ends up acting instead.

he gives a small shrug and gets up, leisurely walking over until his shadow casts upon him. he can do what he wanted to earlier. his fingers run along an ear, tracing over it before he caresses along the jawline and finds his chin. he holds it before tilting it up so pietro can only look up at eliot looming over him. }

Shall we? { eliot can hear whispers from one side and since he already made his display, he’ll go through with it. eliot waugh gets on his knees. he levels them out so he can place his hands on top of pietro’s thighs, using him to brace his weight forward. once he’s half an inch away, lips nearly touching, the words he says are whispered enough so pietro might be able to hear and perhaps someone next to them. }

A kiss for a brat.

{ some part of him is slightly petty, but he wastes no time in the tactic he chooses. eliot decides for them by making the first move. he takes liberty in prodding pietro’s mouth open and purposely making his movements slow as he touches teeth before swiping upon a tongue. he briefly sucks as if he could taste purely pietro and not the ones before him. he then digs into the kiss, sensual and surely made to make some blush if he made it last longer. he does not go further, only giving but a sample.

eliot disengages enough that their mouths are barely touching, their breaths a warm mingle. he wants to give him a second longer to see if he’ll pull away or steal more, making it a rule break on a technicality. }

[ watching eliot walk and approach him with affable ease should be a pasttime in and of itself. eliot moves with a sort of ethereal confidence and grace, something pietro has never been able to accomplish for himself. instead, he's jittery, with a knee or foot bouncing, with fingers tapping and fidgeting even in the quietest of moments. it's why he squirms just so slightly as the other man approaches.

and what a visage to be made to look upon - pietro delicately arches his back into the touch to meet that hazel gaze, a coy smirk pulling at his lips, like he has no cares in the world outside of this little game. well, until there's pressure on his thighs, until eliot sinks to his level and it's by instinct his hand rises to eliot's bicep, giving a squeeze. ]

Brat? I do not know this word.

[ whispered in turn, hot breath mingling with the other man's. the kiss itself feels slow, suspended in time in a way eliot hasn't felt to pietro before - like the other man is being slow on purpose, as if he knows the way it might drive him a little mad. and it does, for the way pietro hums, throaty and needy into it, and draws back on a little pout.

no, he will not break the rules, even if the way his fingers curl into eliot's arm say he might otherwise be tempted to ravish his mouth here and now. but it is a game, after all. and pietro likes to win. there's the sound of someone's throat clearing nearby and he huffs softly, the hand on eliot's arm raising to touch the man's cheek as he draws back, thumb swiping the ample swell of his bottom lip.

never mind he has the audacity to draw the thumb to his own lips afterwards, as if licking icing from his skin. (and it might as well be, to have the taste of eliot spiced and sweet on his tongue.) his head tilts and his eyes fall to the cute little brunette he'd kissed moments before. ]

See? I told you my next kiss would not be so good as yours, hm?

[ a glance back to eliot, a grin, a challenge behind his eyes. ] But next time, you will get a second chance.

{ usually he does not let himself get swept, to be wrapped up in someone in the way that he's feeling at the moment. pietro is rewriting everything el has set aside not to do. he does not like himself when he gets overly invested, too obsessive to the point that he plays dirty. but he'll honor the boundaries set. there's a heat that is scorching, rising from his chest to his ear where he's grateful the dim lighting of the room won't expose the slight embarrassment on how he's behaving.

he stares at pietro, lets the words soak when he turns to the cute girl next to him. eliot restraints, face perfectly calm when he leans back, but not before squeezing pietro's thigh and letting him hear him on his way back up. }

Shame. { as in shame pietro didn't take advantage, as in shame on eliot for getting over his head. it still won't stop him from seeing how far he can play the fiddle of this game that is beyond the one they are physically playing. it's amusing, he'll admit, watching the ease in way pietro moves and speaks. eliot goes back to his seat, seemingly lounging when inside there's a storm trying to rattle his windows. the red-head from before is staring at him curiously and eliot simply winks at him, watching the flush return with ease. oh, how simple were those days. but he likes a challenge. he likes it alright.

the bottle is further from him. once again he uses his telekinesis to nudge it with more force than he intended. it spins as if it were possessed. it lands on margo, which instantly causes his body to loosen to to the familiarity. it is also where his bias becomes apparent, should have with pietro.

he makes an effort of meeting her at least halfway. margo places a brief, lingering kiss on his lips, one they've done many times before. eliot smiles into it, despite the obvious lift of eyebrow she gives him that can only mean: you're being obvious, babes. they nearly have a conversation by expressions alone, but he's thankful she retreats as so he won't have to pout. she knows him far too well. she's testing his interest in pietro when usually he'd discard boys left and right without entertaining further if he just didn't want to anymore.

on her spin, it lands on pietro. which is both a curse and a blessing. he wonders what god is bored enough to mess with him. the jokes don't end(?). he laughs. she won't half-ass it, probably deliver his kiss and take one for her own. eliot leans back when he sees her half straddle pietro, clearly giving impress me. }

Edited 2022-05-17 02:54 (UTC)

{ everyone is watching intently, partly entranced even if at this point the silver-headed stranger with speed unlike anyone has had more turns. some might wonder how lucky can he be? and margo has to wonder if this stranger who eliot is so entranced by has the galls to navigate the bullshit they all go by on a daily grind. how long will this one last? some part of her is impressed he's kept up, another is questioning if he's good enough for el.

she gives pietro a smirk. he's very attractive, hotter than the scorching sun as el would say. she can see the appeal. this is no mike with his boring everything and no, she's not paying respect to the dead when she's died herself many a times. her respect is earned. she can already tell eliot is more infatuation than the ex, and he had called mike his boyfriend. interesting. it's there in the way she grabs pietro by his shirt, firmly pulls him closer to her and before their mouths can clash, her words hold a hidden meaning beyond just a silly game. her palm runs along his torso, feeling along his abdomen as if she's inspecting a car to see what it has to offer in warranty. it's obvious why she is el's number one. }

Well, you're a muscly one. How good are you, sweetheart?

{ translation: Are you worthy of us? }

[ pietro feels the burn of eliot's hands on his thighs long after the man departs, and he finds it difficult to keep his eyes from him following. he can taste eliot on his tongue, feels the lack of him almost immediately, and he lets out a soft sigh when the bottle spins again.

but watching eliot turns into something else when it means watching eliot with the woman he knows to be called bambi. they fit together perfectly, the lingering kiss neither vulgar nor out of place, neither awkward nor fiery. but they look as though they belong as a pretty pair, something that piques his interest. something to file away for later.

he doesn't have much time to contemplate it or to eye his pretty infatuation because the bottle lands on him and yes, suddenly, pietro realizes that this game must be rigged to make him suffer. while kissing is fun in all respects and their game has some level of edge to it, he is suddenly very weary of kissing anyone but eliot himself.

shame eliot had said in passing and pietro feels it, hot under the collar. he should have done away with the game then and there, should have kissed the sense out of eliot while he had the opportunity, and yet -

margo all but climbs across to him, drags him in with a power and presence even he can't deny, but it doesn't stop the airy little laugh that leaves his lips as he raises up just so on his knees. her hand travels his torso and in kind, his palms come to settle, one at her waist to steady her and the other against her thigh, reverent more than exploratory. margo is a force to be reckoned with, and although he could be saucy and playful here, the back of his mind lingers still on the burn of el's hand and his thighs. he bumps their noses together with a little chuckle. ]

I guess you will have to tell me císařovna, yes?

[ Empress he says, but doesn't explain before he leans in to close the distance between them, bold and unafraid even when looking into the mouth of a lioness. he captures her bottom lip between his first, with a slow swipe of his tongue to first beg permission before he presses forward, lazy and slow and pliant, but not without a tiny nip of playful edge, willing to let this kiss linger and burn longer than others before - after all, he has something to prove here. ]

{ if eliot is difficult to impress, margo even more. eliot will tell someone they are subpar at a blowjob while they are sitting next to them, meanwhile margo will humiliate them if they can't do something simple as going down on someone. she never claimed to be a good person, but she has her defenses. it means that when she claimed eliot as her soulmate after they bared their most deepest secrets on the night they were paired together, she likes to think it was fate. some people come into your life and change it.

which is why she didn't like anyone eliot got close to, had to subdue it after the whole beast incident. they grew apart to grow back together. regardless, when she takes in pietro with his long lashes and cocky smile, she can almost see why. it's the fact that the boy looked over, seemingly playing off as if he hadn't tried to pine for el's attention. it's brimming underneath, but does he realize it? she could feel it as she traps him into her web from lip-lock to the heightened press of a surprisingly attentive kiss. margo takes pietro by the chin and grips it, her astonishment in a form of a delightful little gasp. she then pushes him back with a devilish grin. }

Hm. You will do, rey. { she says it as if she has any right. and unlike eliot, she understands some bits of other languages for spells that he has no idea. she understood enough in the moment to grasp what pietro called her. her mouth still tingles from the bite, her fingers now covering pietro's mouth so he can focus on her. } For now.

{ with one motion she is off him, almost gleeful in the way eliot is staring at them. she might have charmed the bottle. after all, who else was going to make sure eliot was taken cared of? he certainly does not do it himself. all the time she watched their masculine vibrance between one another, it was painfully obvious.

they're fucking hopeless. }

{ eliot had been watching, more than he has ever in a game like spin the bottle. most often he is uninterested once he has no need to pay attention. that would be the case, if pietro wasn't so goddamn distracting. every time he kissed someone, it only made him wish he were on the other end even more. often enough there was an uneasy, nearly green feeling to the edges of his watchful eyes. when pietro kisses margo, it is closer to how he has memorized the curve of his mouth, the way he'll bump their noses, a tilt to really take it in.

he's not as bothered as he thought he would be. in this case, it just strikes not the jealousy he's been experiencing, rather a newfound emotion that would have been most pungent eventually — a yearning. margo is all curves, bite, and action. she gets to the point, does as she pleases, and wastes no time. el will let it linger, in the same way he's conflicted right now. often times he'll go with it and let go of something when it could have been good for him.

it's the self-sabotage.

pietro deserves someone like margo. yet, he's selfish and he knows he can't let go of whatever they've started. not now, maybe later... ( which is a lie and he's trying to convince himself it's not. ) with a sizable gulp, eliot parts his lips slightly ajar, momentarily entranced before he sucks in his breath to refocus. the whole time he'd been absorbed with the way pietro kisses. this is no different.

a slow breath, then another before he considers leaving. he does not. eliot instead is glad at least margo now knows why he's been infatuated by this one powered being that came out of nowhere. on why the day pietro left after they shared their first night together, he held onto the nirvana for a whole week following their tumble. they don't have to say it out loud. she'll probably try later on anyway. suddenly he's grateful for commotion of more people spinning and going.

then he hears it's time for the last round, the one everyone looks forward to trying the most. the second half of the game is meant to change seats, to give more range to others. magic option as usage and really that's when others get creative so everyone is probably going to use some display. eliot takes advantage of the moving around. he nearly loses sight of pietro, but is able to casually settle right next to him. eliot places his hands behind him to brace his weight as he finds a comfortable position. he then moves his foot and playfully taps pietro's shoe with his. }

Enjoying yourself?

Edited 2022-05-17 06:50 (UTC)

[ rey, margo says and pietro blinks stupidly up at her as she flutters away. some might take it to mean he's stunned by her, by the kiss, but it's the drop of sokovian that takes him by surprise. their mother tongue can't be spoken by many outside of sokovia, after all and to hear it in this environment is even stranger still.

but he slides back into his spot, smooths his shirt and finds himself turning to find eliot in the crowd and bustle as others begin to shuffle for the last round. there's a moment where he catches the distinct bob of his adam's apple, the way his lips part, and pietro's sure his mind spins with desire. what must it be like to find eliot now, to kiss the taste of margo off his lips and find the spice of eliot beneath.

the crowd shuffles and pietro moves in turn, rising with his half-finished drink and plopping down in one of the farther corners, in hopes to break from kissing. he finds now the game has lots its edge, that without eliot's wanting eyes the kisses are boring and lackluster. he sips from his drink as others settle around him and at first, he pouts around the rim, realizing he's lost sight of eliot.

has he left?

but the tap of the shoe and his eyes flicker sideways as he finishes his sip, his lips stained from the strawberry flavor, smirking. he leans back to brace on one arm, other offering out the drink to eliot. it brings him close enough to bend his leg just so, their knees touching. ]

It is entertaining. But your magicians are not good kissers.

[ he wrinkles his nose and turns when there's some noise - watching as the bottle spins mid-air on some charm and selects a pair of people to kiss. ]

Tricks do not make the kisses better, they know this?

[ he shrugs one shoulder, leaning in closer to eliot so they can speak in quieter tones. he wants to say terrible, dirty things to him. wants to rile him up and entice the man to want him just as much in return. it's the hands on his thighs that he can't seem to shake the feeling of. ]

I could say they should take lessons from you, but then I will get less time kissing you when they are not looking, ano?

{ the first he notices is the stained red upon pietro's mouth, making them even more desirable by sight alone. it causes a vision to see them more bruised up, to see if he can cause a shade darker by teeth alone and possibly lick soft apologies to each spot where he might worry deeper. does it make him a heathen to want to see what pietro's blood tastes like from far too much kissing? is he just chalked full of pent up virility? there's something feral in him at times like these, but he holds it in. he holds in that he can't decide if sensual or dirty is the way he likes to explore pietro's mouth. there are far too many options, none of which he can properly act upon right now.

there's a crackle and a fog that gives eliot the benefit of leaning over. he's close enough that he can lower his voice and have only pietro hear him. }

It is the way we play. It is not for everyone. But, I do agree. Most haven't figured out it's not about the display, it's about how to keep someone's attention. It takes practice. Some of us are seasoned.

{ he's infinitely grateful that there are no further rounds involving either of them for now. there's too much commotion, too much excitement at spell attempts. eliot is taking advantage. still close by a breath away, he leans back while his shoulder keeps pressed to his. this way he can still see pietro up closer than he has been able to in the last few hours. he likes being able to study every line. carefully, he also slides his hand upon the nearest thigh. eliot lets it stay for a moment while everyone else continues to be distracted. }

Do you think you can get away with it? How scandalous of you if you were to steal kisses. That is not the game, ketzel.

{ he drops his hand lower. then glances back at the circle as to mock his attention on it all while fingers slip off to touch the floor. he keeps close enough but not having the delicious benefit of such a strong thigh to feel up. how sad, he thinks, to be without it. it's difficult when all he wants to do is pull pietro into some corner. his knuckles stay near his thigh, a ghost of a touch nearby but so far away at the same time. }

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