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 Posted: Sat Jul 18, 2015 3:56 am
No sunlight peered through the window slats that morning. The sky over Destiny City formed a solid gunmetal grey and promised no rain to offset the lack of sun. What shadows managed to cast across the cherry hardwood looked sickly and wane, ready to vanish with the glance of a light. The metal stairs leading up to the loft portion of the condominium offered no shadow of its own beyond a vague grey suggestion painted across the distressed brick wall. It offered the faintest of shelter to one of many framed charcoal drawings hung throughout the downstairs area.
The bedroom portion of the loft shaded over the sitting area, which consisted of three highly modernized oversized leather chairs and an accompanying glass coffee table. On it sat a newspaper and a pair of geode slice coasters sporting a small metal ring to keep cups in check. A metal industrial floor lamp sat off to the side, and a metal commercial fan hung from the ceiling at a slow lull. Bookshelves designed minimalist with glass fronts sat as dividers in the large downstairs space, and separated the suggested living room from the suggested kitchen. A third vague space known as the dining room sat near the floor-to-ceiling windows, sporting five barstools situated at a counter that was mounted to the thick window crossbars. Several naked bulbs and metal shades were mounted to the ceiling to provide better lighting, though none except the single kitchen light sat on to cast brilliance into the small alcove of gas appliances.
Isaiah slept in a half-cast naked wad across his sheets with a thin grey blanket twisted about his wiry form. It snaked around hips and curled up one side to tuck into a curled fist while he slept with his face nearly buried in the pillow. Being in a full size bed, Isaiah had the space to writhe around without falling off and rolling into the glass guardrails that offered view to the downstairs or kick the footboard composed of distressed iron and industrial piping. On the wood and metal nightstand to his right sat a single nondescript test tube glass half-full of water and a face-down picture frame featuring Isaiah with an unknown redhead. Beyond that, a chair sat with back to the bookshelves that lined the back two walls. The concrete cast floor offered little more than a rug in the center for comfort; the long walkway to the bathroom lay otherwise barren of comforts.
The shopkeeper stirred from where he lay. A soft groan issued from thin lips; his body felt unusually groggy and sluggish. Slowly hazel eyes opened to the blurred visuals of his condominium, which felt easily recognized given the time of day.
And what time is it, exactly? He asked himself while a hand shot out blindly to locate the cell phone in the nightstand drawer. Beyond the usual personal paraphernalia, he found the familiar rectangular shape quickly and brought it to view close to his face. Pressing the lock button displayed a too-bright LED display of 10:53. “Shhhhit,” Isaiah cursed through his teeth. Six missed calls were listed toward the top with three voicemails, all from Enrique Vargas. A text message notification came afterward, and opening it lent visible relief to the gaunt man. He allowed his hand to drop with a sigh and the phone fell from grasp onto concrete floor immediately.
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Posted: Sat Jul 25, 2015 12:01 pm
Waking up as a civilian was normal. But waking up as a civilian when the one you spent the night next to thought you were someone else, that was... not normal in the slightest bit. It was the predicament in which Rutile found himself early this morning. The dark skinned man had stretched out with this Isaiah he'd met last night. Sure, he'd ended up draining the other, but he'd also helped him home and into bed before just collapsing with him because.. it had been late and he was tired. Plus the possibility the other would wake up and want to jump him was there. So. He was thinking with the wrong head. When he was completely awake enough to realize he wasn't in the comfort of his own home, and he snapped back to reality, Rutile managed to transform from civilian Kor back to his lieutenant stage and then just sat in bed and rubbed at his face slowly. He looked across what he could in the dim apartment he'd found himself in. It was very... interesting. Comfortable, honestly. With a soft noise, Rutile had literally dragged his a** across the bed to get to the foot of it and just grumbled as he stood up. His boots were on. Mentally groaning, he undid all the laces and buckles and just pulled them off and wiggled his sock clad toes before sighing slowly. He didn't fuss about with his clothes, but he knew if he walked around this place in his boots it would honestly echo way too much and wake the other before he had a chance to snoop around and find some coffee and possibly make the man some breakfast. No nookie happened last night, but he wasn't opposed to getting some this morning. With one last deep breath, Rutile wandered around to try find the kitchen and he found it fairly easy because of the light. Well, that's definitely handy. Continuing to look around, Rutile was determined to make coffee above all things else. He was going to need it, especially to explain to his fiancee what on earth happened last night... and maybe this morning, if he played his cards right. However, before he could even look in the cabinets for the coffee grounds, he heard a groan coming from the bed area and he blinked slowly and peeked back there. "Oh, damn, you're up already. I was gonna make coffee and breakfast... Well. Mornin'!"
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Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2015 11:31 am
The voice shocked him with a start, but the distance between the pair gave him hope that Rutile might not have noticed. Tired eyes fell to mostly lidded while he breathed his own quiet sigh of exasperation.
He's still here. Why the hell is he still here.
Isaiah shifted into a lazy stretch over the sheets. He waited a handful of seconds before he finally pulled himself into a seated position, with twisted sheets pooling around him in taut lines. His hair whirled and twisted about his face in a manner that looked like he and Rutile got far more acquainted than they actually did, and no amount of combing hands through the black lengths wholly remedied his bed head. He cast a makeup-smeared glance toward the kitchen area to find the man there, gazing into his cupboards. His cupboards.
That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works! You're supposed to have left ages ago and potentially with my petty cash, not ditch your boots next to my bed and help yourself to my kitchen! ******** ******** <********> Fingers curled into white knuckle fists against the bed. He paused only for a moment before he slipped to sitting on the side of the bed and used toes to pull open the drawers built beneath his mattress.
Clothes... I need clothes. Something not shitty. His discarded articles from the night earlier were brushed further out by the open drawer and he sifted through what was available. Considering the morning heat in the apartment, Isaiah decided on steel grey briefs with mesh sides and a pair of cotton shorts to allow for breathability. He slipped them on without a thought; already he was working out how exactly to explain to Rutile that Isaiah needed to measure out the coffee and cook the breakfast himself because he had very particular measurements and any deviations might throw off his all-too-persnickety calorie counting and he might shift his weight by some imperceptible amount but Rutile could be assured that Isaiah will sense that in half a heartbeat and groan about it for the next six weeks.
Which might be a slight exaggeration but Isaiah was already halfway to the kitchen and formulating how to tell Rutile hell no don't touch my stove in as kind a manner as possible.
"Yes, morning," he commented tiredly while he pressed past the rolling cutting board station. Judging by cupboards perused, Rutile already found his liquor cabinet and might be passing judgment on him as an alcoholic. "As much as I would've liked to sleep past three, the woes of a businessman prevent me from sleeping anywhere beyond the asscrack of dawn so as you can see, I'm actually up late." And his exasperation at it showed in his voice.
Carefully he tried to edge himself between Rutile and the cupboards, despite the marked lack of space there, to prevent further forays into the bowels of Isaiah's woefully sparse kitchen. "If there's something you want, I can make it for you. Trust me, my stove has a habit of exploding on people that aren't me." Which was a lie, but a hopefully convincing lie considering how much he didn't want to explain his caloric obsessions to a casual makeout partner.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 6:29 pm
Rutile studied the man's face and sighed. Well, he'd botched this already. He knew that look because Rutile used to be the same way. One night stands all the way, expected to be gone in the morning, and if not, you made up some excuse to throw them out like the trash they usually were. Well, too bad, guy who's name he couldn't remember. Rutile wasn't trash and no sex happened. So he was just kind of a stranger in this guy's house to make him breakfast. Clearing his throat, he wandered away so Isaiah could wake up and change or whatever and then just kept poking about until he found what he was looking for. "Ah-ha! Found your coffee." If he had a tail it'd be wagging right now and then he shrugged. "M'kay. I'll leave the stove alone, but your coffee pot has to be working. Else how do you wake up in the morning?" How was Rutile so chipper? Even he didn't know. The lanky man scratched at his own chest a bit before sighing and humming. "Well.. If you're late now, you could just stay for coffee. I can leave after, yeah?" He was probably in some s**t with the little lady in his life, but this guy didn't know it, and probably wouldn't.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2015 5:33 am
Rutile went right on trucking through his cabinetry, and Isaiah sighed. Spindly arms formed the meager cushion between the lip of the counter and the small of his back, leaving deep cut-ins across his forearms. The man looked on while Rutile searched about and exclaimed happily about locating coffee. Soon Isaiah's gaze left the stranger perusing his household and instead looked out across the length of the room toward the wall-mounted charcoal drawings.
Could be worse, he reminded himself. He could be citing me as an alcoholic. Or anorexic. Or both. Or he could be holding me hostage. Really, this is fortunate. Or something.
This blows so hard. We didn't even have sex. Why do I feel like I'm being punished.
"Yes, it's working, but if it's any consolation, I don't wake up in the morning. Or haven't been." He pushed to start his business much too soon, and Isaiah lacked the reestablished routine to run it well. Enrique picked up much of the slack, to his great fortune, which left him able to rebound after lapses like this. It offered him time to have coffee with said invading strangers, and apologize for his complete a*****e tendencies when roused late and faced with a situation that he typically found highly stressful. Truly he didn't need to apologize - he didn't expect to ever meet this guy twice in his lifetime - but issuing a poor impression here often reflected on his business later. Word of mouth that Isaiah was a scum-sucking shitbag only drove customers away.
And really, tossing him out on his a** reminded him quite strongly of Sidney James.
Isaiah pressed fingers to eyebrows and smoothed the threaded hair slowly. It soothed somewhat to feel the pressure. "No, you're right. Lateness is a fact now that's already been taken care of, so there's no reason to shove you out the door in a hurry. I'm being an a*****e." Hands dropped to his sides and fidgeted with the bottom stitching of his shorts while he watched Rutile rifle his coffee. Isaiah liked to think the brand was gourmet - a local tongue-in-cheek shop sold Caustic Coffee alongside Terrorist Tea in the jurisdiction of Destiny City. "It's a french press, if you know how to use one."
Isaiah crossed the kitchenette to stand directly behind Rutile and reach over his shoulder for the coffee grinder. After setting it on the counter, Isaiah sucked in a corner of his lower lip and chewed on it thoughtfully. Right - there's more to it than that. "Hold on a moment," he added while pressing both palms to the man's back. Slipping away, he rifled cupboards for cups, a spoon, a small sugar bowl, and a vial of vanilla extract. The lot of it found placement on the counter while Rutile worked on coffee.
Afterward Isaiah ran fingers through his hair to comb out the mess of snarls from a night of active sleeping. "So. Rutile. Do you stay over at strangers' houses and make them coffee often? I, for one, haven't had anyone stay the night that I haven't ********. Not for years, anyway."
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Posted: Tue Aug 11, 2015 1:59 pm
Oh, he knew what was up, that Isaiah wanted to get rid of him, and he sympathized with the guy. ....But it didn't mean he'd let it go that early. With a flash of a grin, the lanky man listened to man talk about how he didn't wake up in the morning. "I used to not get up in the early mornings," he hummed out. The man bobbed his head from side to side as he thought, and just shifted his weight from foot to foot as if he were nervous. He wasn't, by the way. He just needed to stay moving to stay awake, else he would go crawl back in the other's bed and sleep there, and that'd be bad. He would power down and Isaiah would figure out who hew as and that'd just... be really bad. "But I got something to take care of now, so I can't afford that luxury else everything falls apart without me." Oh to be a business owner. Sometimes he missed the early days of his drug, sex, and gang days. Not even thirty and he felt like an old man. The smirk on Rutile's lips got wider, making his lips seem way to big for his face now. "...Well, at least you can admit you're an a*****e. Still..." He looked down at the french press and hummed. "I never used one... You.. Hm. Should probably end up doing this 'cause I don't want to break things. French press sounds expensive and I'm on a tight budget." That wasn't untrue at all. He really was. So, he let Isaiah take his spot and then just watched his back before coming up behind him and resting his head on the other's shoulder. "...Sorry, I like contact and we didn't get to do anything last night. Kind of a bummer. I stayed hoping to roll about in the bed with you, honestly. I just gotta be a bit more awake to do it, thus the coffee. See it's a process." He stifled a yawn which made his eyes water. "So..."
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Posted: Sat Aug 15, 2015 9:24 am
Isaiah stepped in once Rutile departed and started off with pouring some of the beans into the grinder. With a click and a whirr, the beans were minced into a fine ground that collected into the lid. The pressure on shoulder earned a glance from the lithe man, but no objection. Hazel eyes glazed with smeared makeup looked over the close view provided; it seemed to him that Rutile was the luckier of the two to wake up and still manage to look appealing in the mornings.
"Everything falls apart without you, eh? Starting to sound like familiar territory. My problem has always been that everything falls apart with me." He pulled a water boiler from the top cabinet and started it after filling with the Brita-equipped sink. A press of a button, then Isaiah withdrew the plunger from his french press and added the grounds. He pulled his phone from pocket and unlocked it with the factory setting click and started through his apps. "It's a shame most business requires the early hours. Humans should be nocturnal - it would save me a world of pain with this early-to-rise s**t. We can all be vampires any day now. Daybreakers can be my reality."
App found, water boiler clicked off with a beep, and Isaiah was ready to start warming the coffee. "I need something to wake up myself." A touch of the app cued up a sound system installed cleverly throughout the condo, which kicked on with a particularly aggressive industrial song. Isaiah tapped his right foot to the beat in immediate recognition, and fingers tapped across the countertop with the keyboarding harmony. His movements freed up with more fluidity as the song leapt into its unyielding harshness. Isaiah gave into mouthing the chorus with a snarl while he swayed in place.
Once he estimated a fair four minutes, Isaiah inserted the plunger and turned the cap to allow for pouring. He poured two cups in a billow of steam before retiring the french press for later use. "Milk? Sugar? Cognac?" He asked with a smirk.
The rivethead about-faced to face his stayover to look him in the eye. "You're serious? And you didn't bother to ask? Hell, even being obvious about objectifying me is enough of an invitation." One cup passed between their close proximity. A hand darted out to seize the milk jug and unscrewed the cap easily. After a splash was poured into the black coffee, Isaiah drew a sip and retired the cup to the counter. Two hands then absconded with Rutile's face while Isaiah pressed a coffee-laden kiss to Rutile's lips.
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Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2015 2:37 pm
As the drums hit his ears immediately, Rutile winced and then rubbed his face. Well. He'd been into music like this once before. Not quite this early in the morning, but hey. It could be a lot worse. He pushed his hair around a bit before looking at Isaiah again and nodding. "Mm.. Fallsa part with you, eh? Sounds like you need a bit of help. Or better help. Something like that." He watched the other move around and looked at the french press like it was a two headed person. The French were weird. That was not a real coffee pot. "Most of uh.. my business is nocturnal." That was probably divulging too much information, but as long as the other didn't pry, he wouldn't have to lie. He could just say stripper, escort, whore, something along those lines. He probably would, too. "Oh, Cognac. I haven't had that kind of coffee in a while." But before he could say much else, he was drawn into a coffee flavored kiss and the other just made a slow, pleased noise. His hands went to wrap around the man's waist and drew him closer still, flush against him and a pierced tongue came and took a long swipe over those lips after a moment.
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Posted: Fri Aug 28, 2015 1:18 am
Most of your business is nocturnal, eh? This must be routine for you, then. He felt the tongue ring meet his lips and he grinned into the kiss. The bitter taste of coffee burnt his tongue but he didn't mind it - pain was its own welcome from time to time. The arms about his waist prickled his skin somewhat and he shuddered slightly. Hands snaked up behind his partner and sought a firm grip of hair to pull against, to angle Rutile's head back and further their forays.
I'll have to make it unpredictable.
Isaiah broke the kiss just long enough to hoist himself up on the countertop, sitting astride his partner, and pulled him closer by the upper arm. "We'll make it upstairs eventually," he added with an easy grin.
And they would... in some hours.
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