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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 3, 2011 13:50:00 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] Living in New York his entire life, Moz had certainly had some awkward subway rides in his time. But tonight’s had to take the cake. It wouldn’t have looked that awkward to any random passersby who happened to look at the two boys sitting side by side on the tram, one leaning heavily on the other and smelling strongly of bourbon and stubbornness as he glared out of the car’s windows, occasionally shifting his gaze to the male he was leaning on. It wasn’t awkward because they didn’t know the whole story.
Moz knew the whole story, and boy, what a story it was. He was currently in the process of taking a drunk minor- he’d weaseled it out of Rhett that he was only seventeen while the boy was trying to convince him that he was fine and that Moz did not need to take him home, thank you very much- that he barely knew back to his apartment after unintentionally and illegally being the one to get him drunk in the first place. Oops. And then there was the whole fact that Rhett had put up such a fight about the whole thing, and the brunette had practically had to drag him down into the subways, all the while supporting the male’s weight as he staggered and muttering soothing words to keep him from going completely nuts and bolting. He was not in the mood to report a missing teenager to the cops, especially considering that they’d want to know how he knew the missing person. Yeah, well, I’m the bartender who got him drunk, and then he couldn’t remember where he lived, so I was taking him back to my place to make sure he didn’t get into any sort of trouble. Oh, yeah, and I’m actually bisexual and I think he might be, too, and I was maybe, possibly, secretly hoping that if I removed him from the chaos of Hot Wings, the club where we met only about an hour ago, we might end up making out on my couch, maybe more. Did I mention that that would be bordering on illegal, considering he’s a minor and I’m not?
He’d be sent to prison for sure if he told the cops any of that, let alone all of it. With the threat of jail hanging over his head and questions about Rhett’s sexual preference and if taking the boy back to his apartment could be considered stringing him on, Moz helped Rhett off the subway and back onto the main street. Stumbling the couple of blocks to his apartment with his arm thrown around Rhett’s waist and the boy’s arm draped over his shoulders, like Rhett was injured or something, Moz had never been so excited to see his home. Now he just had to maneuver Rhett up the stairs… and find his keys… and unlock the door. Goddamn it. Somehow, he managed without Rhett losing his balance and tripping over his own feet onto the concrete. “Hope you’re not allergic to cats,”
[/b] he muttered as he kicked the door closed behind them. He set Rhett down on the couch, already spotting Nightmare bounding out of the small kitchen to come and investigate this new person invading her territory. He strode into the kitchen, dodging around the kitten as tried to tangle herself in his shoelaces, and went straight for the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water, thought about it, and grabbed a second before returning to sit on the edge of the coffee table immediately in front of Rhett. “Drink,”[/b] he ordered, twisting off the cap to the first water bottle and pressing it into Rhett’s palm. “I’m trying to save you from a horrible hangover tomorrow. Please?”[/b] He’d learned that drunken Rhett tended to be stubborn when the boy had refused to budge from the booth back at Hot Wings. He hoped that appeasing to him would make him more likely comply. A soft thud alerted Moz to the fact that Zombie had been stirred from his slumber into curiosity, and sure enough the gray tabby appeared, winding over to Moz and rubbing against his ankles. He looked up at the brunette expectantly, and Mozzie absently dropped his hand down to scratch the feline’s fuzzy ears, keeping his brown gaze on Rhett until he could be sure that the boy was going to show a spark of common sense and actually drink something. [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : drunken rhettie. words : seven four two. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : i imagine his living room looking something like this because his dad knows an interior designer who hired moz to take pictures of her setups in exchange for redecorating his apartment. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 3, 2011 15:12:13 GMT -5
If you asked Rhett where he thought he’d be tonight, he would have never answered “on a subway with a stranger that I’m attracted to, drunk, on I think on my way to his house in God knows what part of the city.” He wasn’t just drunk, he was wasted. Wasted, and in desperate need of Moz and his coordination/steering/common sense. About fifteen minutes ago—according to drunken Rhett time, which was sketchy—he was in a bar/dance club called “Hot Wings”, in a lonely little booth near the back of the joint. With him was Moz, who caught on to his drunkenness, though it wasn’t exactly a hard thing to miss, and had come to realization that the seventeen year old Rhett Halewile had no idea where his residence was located. And Mozzie only knew he was seventeen because he wouldn’t stop bombarding Rhett with questions and the boy finally caved in.
Together, they trudged through the subways with Moz holding onto Rhett who obviously was in no condition to attempt to walk on his own. It was probably a comical sight, but as selfish as it may seem, Rhett was only glad for the lack of separation between them. The booth back at Hot Wings had become his mortal enemy. His feelings for this man were more intense than he’d hoped for at the moment, probably brought on by the alcohol, but they were true. He’d wanted to tell Moz that, but some part of him, whether it was sober or just plain fear of rejection, kept him back and in the awkward moments that they were sitting on the tram, he was rather glad his sensible side had kept him back. He enjoyed just being on the tram with him and, yes, he did take advantage of his position and leaned against him, but that was also for support, seeing as he didn’t want to fall onto the guy sitting on the other side of him. That would have been awkward. For all of two glasses he drank, he was feeling tired rather quickly. He guessed his liver was finally processing the liquor.
He was all right on the subway, but once they got off and started walking again, Rhett was more discombobulated than he could remember being at Hot Wings. His body just did not want to move. He stumbled with Moz, apologizing profusely for ever getting drunk in the first place because even though Moz was a bartender and it was job to serve him the alcohol in the first place, Rhett couldn’t help but feel that it was fault because he should have taken better care of himself and he should have been watching himself and he shouldn’t be putting poor Mozzie in this situation. Rhett was made aware that he had no idea where he was when they stumbled upon Main Street. There were many main streets, weren’t there? How was this one any different? As they walked along, Rhett did his best to take a look around, but everything was winding and twisting and blurry and just plain unrecognizable. It was in these moments that Rhett felt at his lowest and he stopped apologizing, figuring he was annoying the man more than he was making progress.
“Hope you’re not allergic to cats,” Mozzie said and Rhett shook his head, though it didn’t look like Moz was paying much attention. His house was much brighter than the outside and looking through his crazy eyes only made it worse. He had to blink before his sensitive eyes adjusted, but by what he could gather from his uncertainty, Moz’s house was very nice. He decided not to say anything about it, in case Moz’s house was a mess and he didn’t want to be complimented on it. Amelia was like that, Rhett learned the hard way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something puffy and black move. It was either Rhett’s imagination or a cat, considering Moz made it clear that he had cats. Rhett looked at the cat in question, but then it scampered off. When he turned back to face Moz, he was gone and Rhett leaned back into the couch. A minute later he returned with what looked like water bottles, but for some reason, the liquid looked all green and nasty inside, like rotten milk…that was green like snot. Needless to say, it wasn’t appetizing and a stubborn Rhett didn’t want to drink it—
Until Moz said please. Well, Rhett couldn’t ignore that, could he?
He felt the bottle being forced into his grip and went to go try and unscrew the top when he vaguely realized that it’d been taken off for him. “Thank you,”
[/b]he said yet again and hoped that he sounded less drunk, though he doubted so. “Why ‘re you doing this, Mozzie? You don’t ‘ave to. I know I’m wasting your time.”[/b] Though he was still slurring, at least he sounded like himself. It meant he was one step closer to his sanity. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 4, 2011 19:22:02 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] Rhett thanked him for the water, and for one selfish second Mozzie let himself feel relieved that the younger brunette wasn’t apologizing for the billionth time for being drunk, or for getting drunk in the first place, or for being a hassle, or for tripping over his own feet. It was getting a little bit difficult to reassure him that it was fine, and that it wasn’t a problem, and that it wasn’t entirely his fault when Moz really just wanted to clap his hand over the other boy’s mouth to stop its unending stream of “sorry!”s. There was only so much he could handle before his patience broke and he snapped a harsh “I get it! You’re sorry, now stop apologizing.” But even after thanking him, Rhett hesitated to drink the water, and Moz narrowed his eyes in mild frustration. He realized idly that his frustration spawned from his impatience, not from Rhett irritating him. His impatience spawned from the fact that he didn’t like seeing Rhett looking so lost and tired, and he wanted to remedy the boy’s suffering as quickly as he possibly could.
“Why ‘re you doing this, Mozzie? You don’t ‘ave to. I know I’m wasting your time.” The male blinked once, startled by the question and its companion statements. Well, he certainly hadn’t seen that one coming. But it made him think. Why was he doing this exactly? He frowned thoughtfully, tucking his fist under his chin, stretching his pointer finger up to tap against his bottom lip. “That,”
[/b] he said softly, “is a very good question.”[/b] He wanted to answer, wanted to tell Rhett all about his pure and gallant intentions, but he wasn’t sure he could do that. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was helping the boy. Moz realized that he wasn’t sure about a lot of things that factored into the current situation, so he decided to start with what he knew. Rhett was drunk. He knew that; the proof was sitting less than two feet away from him, on his couch, looking pale and exhaling stale bourbon with every breath. He was partially to blame for Rhett’s drunkenness, not because he made the boy drink or because he made him drink a second Manhattan, but because he’d provided the alcohol even though he knew that doing so had been very illegal. He was attracted to Rhett, at least on a physical level. The boy just had such stunning features, and he couldn’t help it. Rhett may or may not be attracted to him. It was harder to tell, because the feelings weren’t his own, and the signals Rhett had been sending had been discreet. They’d become more obvious after the alcohol had taken affect, and therefore Moz couldn’t be sure if that was Rhett emboldened by the alcohol or just the alcohol talking. Hell, he didn’t even know if Rhett was attracted to men in general, let alone him! He’d brought Rhett back to his apartment because- that’s where he was having trouble. The brunette couldn’t decide if he’d brought Rhett home with him because: a) He felt bad about getting the poor bastard drunk,
b) He hadn’t been able to escort Rhett home after getting him drunk, since the male hadn’t been able to remember where he lived, and Moz couldn’t just leave him stumbling out on his own in a city he’d admitted to being new to,
c) He was hoping that maybe Rhett was attracted to men, and to him specifically, and that by removing him from the chaos of Hot Wings maybe the spark that had started flickering between them would ignite and blossom into something a little stronger
d) He was a selfish prick who just wanted to keep Rhett to himself until he could figure the boy out. “I’m doing this,”[/b] he finally decided, “because I’m selfish. I’m using my good intentions of keeping you safe while you’re… vulnerable-”[/b] He made a face at the word, feeling like it wasn’t the adequate word to use in this situation but using it because he couldn’t think of anything better. “-as a cover to keep you with me longer.”[/b] Moz felt a blush starting to color his cheeks, probably giving his golden skin a lingering pinkish tinge. He kept talking, speaking a little faster now to get what he needed to out before he chickened out or forgot his words. “Because I like you- like, like like you, or I think maybe I could- and I wanna get to know you better and I feel a little bad ‘bout giving you the Manhattan in the first place, ‘specially since I could tell you weren’t twenty-one which means it was illegal and you could never be a waste of my time so don’t even think that way.”[/b] Silence settled softly over the apartment when Moz finally snapped his mouth shut, flushing a rather impressive shade of pink. It occurred to him that he probably hadn’t said that many words over the course of the past month, considering he usually wasn’t very talkative. There was just something about Rhett that made him want to keep talking and talking and talking and never shut up. Sheepishly, he lifted his head to meet Rhett’s eyes, not even realizing that sometime during his speech babbling he’d shifted his gaze down to look at Zombie, who was looking back at him with the supreme disinterest that only a cat could possess. [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : drunken rhettie. words : someone call nine one one. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : FINALLY! enjoy a blathering, adorable mozzy, even though he’s a little overdue.. [/blockquote][/blockquote] This post brought to you by nerd glasses. Take 3D glasses, pop out the lenses, insta nerd glasses. [/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 4, 2011 21:11:12 GMT -5
In all honesty, Rhett was not expecting silence from the other man. He expected him to say “yes, you are wasting my time, so get out of my house and never come back.” While it was true Moz didn’t seem to be that cruel and heartless—otherwise, drunk or not, Rhett wouldn’t waste his time trying to win him and yes, at this point, that’s what he was doing—he did indeed seem annoyed and it was driving Rhett crazy that he couldn’t figure out what was bothering him. This was yet another reason why he was regretting being drunk: sober Rhett would have been able to figure this all out. He’d be the one to look through Moz and see everything he didn’t want the younger brunette to see and said younger brunette knew this because he’s had years of practice with a stubborn and aggressive fighting partner. Rhett was a very perceptive person, just not with the drunkenness. Then Moz continued to say that Rhett’s question was a very good one. Well, he sure thought so.
Not to keep comparing his two selves—though it couldn’t be helped with the silence that’d taken over—but a more alert Rhett would not have followed him home so easily, or at all for that matter. However, under his handicapped circumstances, he’d had to comply. Sitting down and not moving was definitely helping him calm down. He was starting to see things clearer. He could see the living room differently and saw that it was clean and professional looking, not at all what he’d expected it to look like. Then again, many unexpected things came with Mozzie. As he looked at Moz, who was actually looking at him like he was waiting for a reaction, he supposed he didn’t seem like a bad guy; the type of guy to only take up a job for opportunities like this. No, he didn’t look hyped up at all. In fact, he looked more confused, even through Rhett’s dysfunctional eyes. His eyes didn’t meet Rhett’s anymore and the younger boy saw hazily that his attention was sapped by something furry on the ground, tan in color and still. He at first thought it was a rug, but then the figure moved ever so slightly. Then Moz went to touch it, which confirmed Rhett’s suspicions.
He watched as Moz pet his cat absently, giving it the attention it desired and receiving its loving purrs in response. Hadn’t Rhett been clear enough when he called him stunning? That he wanted his attention? That he could give him so much more than his damn cat? He glared at the cat, though not necessarily meaning to, and then looked up at Moz when he began to speak. “I’m doing this because I’m selfish. I’m using my good intentions of keeping you safe while you’re…vulnerable…as a cover to keep you with me longer.” Even a sober Rhett wouldn’t have been able to follow that. He felt his heart swell in a way it hadn’t in a very long time and hopeful eyes kept themselves glued on the man in front of him. It took him until these moments to realize he was so close.
“Because I like you- like, like, like you…”
Everything stopped. That was…that was a confession, right? Which would explain his furious blushing, that even a pink-in-hue Rhett himself could see. His pinkness only worsened with Moz’s and he knew it couldn’t be from the Manhattan. No, not this time, because this time he was feeling something, something that made his heart beat like it was catalyst. He suddenly didn’t feel so drunk anymore, suddenly like he was in control of everything he did or said; how he did it or how he said it. And while he was in control, he was going to take advantage of it, whether Moz agreed with it or not.
His body acted faster than his mind did and Rhett found himself unabashedly leaning off the couch and into Moz. He caught the man’s face in cupped hands and placed his lips onto his, kissing him with a sort of controlled urgency. Whatever was stopped a minute ago was set into motion again, even the cat as it scurried out of the way. He kissed him fast, passionately, and a little inexperienced, but with everything his heart had been holding in for the past few hours. He tugged at the scarf around his neck—who wore scarves in July?—eventually finding where it was knotted and ripping it off altogether and finally coming up for a breath, though every other part of his body was telling him to suck it up and suffocate, just to get in another kiss. Sometimes he forgot he was Nephilim, granted more raw power than mundanes, and so unintentionally—but totally to his advantage, so who was he to argue?—he leaned hard against him, so hard that they were lying on the coffee table he’d been sitting on a moment ago. Only when he met Moz’s eyes again did he chuckle and say, “Like me, like me? I didn’t realize we were in seventh grade, Mozzie.”
[/b] [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] Word Count: eight six five (again xD) Tags: Mozzie <3 Lyrics: Needing Someone by Gene Clark Notes: Oh yes, Rhettie has made his move Outfit: Just made of plastic and leather [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 4, 2011 22:41:05 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] Moz didn’t notice Rhett leaning closer to him- a shock, considering the brunette had noticed everything about Rhett since he’d first laid eyes on him at the bar- as his rambling trailed off. He didn’t notice the lack of space between them until he worked up the courage to meet Rhett’s gaze after just potentially making himself look like an idiot, especially if the boy wasn’t into him the same way that Moz thought he was. He didn’t notice until strong hands pressed against his cheeks, and his brain finally registered what was going on. “Wha-” he started, surprised, only to be cut off when Rhett’s lips pressed over his.
He hadn’t been wrong when he’d noted earlier that the younger brunette looked like he had soft lips; they were indeed soft, and warm. So, so maddeningly warm. Moz felt like he was burning alive as the boy kissed him, fast and fervently and maybe just a tad bit sloppily, the kiss eating away at his lips and tongue and flesh and muscles until there was nothing left but bones and his rapidly beating heart. And despite the fact that a scorching hot feeling prickling at his entire body, from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes, should feel bad- painful, agonizing, torturous- it felt good. Raw and real. Intoxicating in a way that he’d never experienced from any amount of alcohol consumption. He kissed the boy back, making a soft noise of discomfort when Rhett accidentally clashed their teeth together. Moz made a mental note to help with that in a minute, or two or three or four. His hands snaked around Rhett of their own accord, one tangling into the fine hair at the nape of the boy’s neck and the other sliding under his leather jacket, grasping at the boy’s side just above his hip. It occurred to the brunette, somewhere in the way back of his mind, under mountains of blankets and other soft things that muffled the noise, that Rhett was tugging his scarf off, having trouble untangling the thing. He grinned against the other male’s mouth, sliding his other hand inside the weather inappropriate leather jacket. He helped Rhett by removing it, just as the boy pulled away from the kiss to gasp for air. “Whoa,”
[/b] Moz breathed, though there wasn’t much breath left in his lungs at that point, when Rhett pushed him back onto the coffee table- though he was pretty sure it had been a process, and he just hadn’t noticed the shift until now that his brain was free to notice unimportant things like surroundings. “Whoa, slow down there, tiger.”[/b] He pressed his forehead against the boy’s briefly before sitting up as much as the other brunette would allow. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary at Rhett’s waist before he shifted the youner male off of him and onto the couch in an unusual display of the strength hidden in his lean muscles. It’s not that he wasn’t comfortable, squished there between the wood and surprisingly strong Rhett; he just knew his house well enough to know that his coffee table was not going to support the weight of two fully grown men for very long before it collapsed. Moz really did not feel like picking splinters out of his back. “Like me, like me? I didn’t realize we were in seventh grade, Mozzie.” The brunette rolled his eyes as he slid onto the couch next to Rhett, half leaning over the other male as he pullied his glasses off and set them on the coffee table- which the boy would hopefully realize was an off limits piece of furniture to start making out on- because he doubted he’d be needing them anytime soon. So what if the world was a little bit fuzzy while he and Rhett made out? It’s not like his mind wouldn’t be fuzzy from the boy’s lips. “I didn’t realize we were in the seventh grade, either.”[/b] he chuckled, flushed from Rhett kissing him. Or, well, attacking his face. At least what the boy lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. Moz cupped the boy’s chin in his palm, smoothing his lips softly against Rhett’s. If he didn’t know how to kiss someone, then Moz had no problem teaching him; he’d been told he was an excellent teacher and an excellent kisser, so why not try to be both at the same time? He grasped at Rhett’s waist, leaning his body against the brunette’s and thusly pushing him down against the leather cushions, leaning on his elbows and knees to keep his weight from crushing the other male. Realizing that he still had his fake fangs in, Moz decided to use them to his advantage. He pulled away from Rhett’s mouth, enough so that their lips just barely ghosted against each others, before opening his mouth slightly and nipping at the boy’s bottom lip, grazing his teeth against the skin. [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : frisky emboldened rhettie. words : eight three four. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : i feel like i’m invading their private moment... [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 5, 2011 6:32:32 GMT -5
Moz was burning up, which was both cute and good because it hid the fact that Rhett was burning up, too. He’d thought about forewarning him that he was about to kiss him, but Rhett was a fan of the element o f surprise. He loved the way Moz squirmed in his hold to get more comfortable, how his entire body felt like it was up in glorious flames just from his touch and his touch alone. Not like there was anyone else here in his apartment, but it was the selfish claiming of his that kept the young Shadowhunter so bold, so willing to keep pushing forward. He felt a sharp pain in a moment, realizing that he’d accidentally clashed with the other boy too much as their teeth met; Moz knew he was drunk, so he blamed it on the lack of balance on coordination he had at the moment, but still couldn’t hold back a small bit of laughter and a slightest embarrassed blush especially when Mozzie groaned under him.
Rhett was on fire, every nerve in his system alert and active. It was like the alcohol disappeared, taking all his insecurities and fears with it. Though it’d only been a couple of hours ago, Rhett remembered seeing his face for the first time, walking into Hot Wings and seeing him behind the counter under the crazy lights. He remembered how he felt upon first seeing him. He remembered feeling alive as he talked to him and this only made him kiss the man with more enthusiasm, made him forget that he needed oxygen.
Snake-like arms wrapped themselves around Rhett and had he been paying attention to those arms, he probably would have seen them as snakes. He felt Moz’s hand at his hip, how it seemingly reeled him closer and he wasn’t about to argue, nor did he particularly want to. He smiled behind his kisses and moved himself closer if that was at all possible, letting his hands freely roam over Moz’s chest. Through the shirt, he admittedly didn’t feel much of what he wanted to feel. The shirt was already getting in the way and Rhett mentally decided that it was the next article of clothing to be removed, right after the damn scarf. Moz was one step ahead of him as he moved his other hand to lie inside his leather jacket. He wanted it off? Fine by Rhett, hell he’d even help him, which is exactly what he did and then threw the jacket on the couch behind them, amusedly hearing a rather impressive “thud” from its weight as it hit the couch. That was about as much as his body would go without air and reluctantly he was forced to pull away. Rhett smirked to his remark about slowing down. Like hell, Mozzie. “Do you really want me to stop now?”
[/b] he asked both incredulously and tauntingly, gesturing to where the two males were currently located. Wasn’t it a bit late for that? He was answered with physical reaction, with Moz’s hands at his waist and then a moment later, he was moved onto the couch and under him. Yeah, he didn’t think so. He rolled his eyes, which made Rhett chuckle, and slid on the couch with him. His hands immediately went to tangle themselves in the other man’s hair. He watched with anticipating eyes as Moz finally removed his glasses and placed them on the coffee table beside them and he saw that he was beautiful. But he’d already known that. He studied every inch of his face for as long as he could, until Moz redirected his chin upwards, up to bring their lips together in a soft touch. He grabbed at the waist again—with Rhett rather liking how it felt—and pulled himself closer, his body heat mixing with Rhett’s in a hot, sweet embrace. Rhett moved his hands again: one of them wandering towards the hem of Moz’s shirt, where he felt his skin under the riding material and the other to place a hand on his chest, to feel Moz’s heartbeat as it matched his own rapidly beating one. And then they were kissing again. The hand over Moz’s chest moved itself to cup Moz’s cheek, pulling his face closer to Rhett’s, wanting him to be more physical, though the younger boy had his suspicions that he was being soft on purpose, which he didn’t like. He especially didn’t like it when Moz pulled away and let their lips linger, barely touching one another. He felt a sharp scrape against his bottom lip and realized that Mozzie still had his fake fangs in place. A soft moan escaped Rhett’s mouth, he not at all liking the idea of being teased. And because he was being teased, Rhett felt he had the privilege to move both his hands to the hem of Moz’s shirt and snake his hands up under it to feel the cool, soft skin underneath. “I love you, Mozzie,”[/b] he said, even though it was kind of already stated for him through his actions, “An’ that’s not the alcohol talking. I mean, I really love you. Even when I’m sober.”[/b] He felt the need to clarify that it wasn’t the alcohol leading him to speak. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 7, 2011 9:27:02 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] “Do you really want me to stop now?” Rhett inquired, his tone implying at how unbelievable he found this statement to be. No, Moz would have said, were in he in the mood to use his mouth for such a trivial thing like forming words and talking. I said ‘slow down.’ ‘Slow down’ and ‘stop’ are two completely different things. They even have different colors on a stop light, for God’s sake.
[/i] But he had more important things to do with his mouth than use it to convey his sarcastic thoughts. Like, say, continue their nice slide toward first base. Rhett was certainly encouraging him to keep heading in that direction: knotting his fingers in Moz’s hair before trailing them down. A shudder coursed through his spine as Rhett’s hands found where he wanted to rest them, against Moz’s hammering heart that was beating double time inside his heaving ribcage and down, brushing softly against the skin peeking out from where his shirt was riding up. Rhett dropped a bomb- “I love you, Mozzie.”- and Moz paused with his mouth pressed against the other boy’s neck. “I love you, Mozzie.” Slowly, he pulled away as much as his body would let him- which wasn’t much, since it longed for the feel of Rhett’s skin, the heat seeping into his bones- and looked down at the boy. He loved him? How!? How could the boy possibly love him when he knew almost nothing about him? “Rhett,”[/b] he said gently, his eyes pleading with the boy to understand why he was about to say what he was about to say. “You can’t mean that. Or if you can, you probably shouldn’t.”[/b] He felt cruel, like a scorpion repeatedly stabbing and poisoning the boy. He didn’t want to, but Rhett had just dropped him into a tough situation- into alcohol, if he was going to use the scorpion metaphor- where he was confused and scared and didn’t know what to say or do that could make everything alright. He was going insane, ready to inject himself with his own poison because of the rejection, hurt and confusion that he was most likely putting the boy through. Moz sat up, sitting back on his heels and putting space between himself and Rhett, to let the cool air clear his head and hopefully put the right words to say in his mouth. “I love you, Mozzie.” “Look,”[/b] he sighed, cupping the other brunette’s cheek tenderly. God, why’d he have to be the bad guy? “I…”[/b] The words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t love Rhett back. That he couldn’t love Rhett back, because it was too soon, and he knew so little about the boy, and how could he possibly love someone that he barely knew? Granted, he knew more about Rhett than Rhett knew about him, but shouldn’t that have made the boy a little hesitant to utter the “L” word so early in their relationship? How could he even be sure that this was the start of a relationship, and not Moz using him for sex and companionship for a night? Moz gnawed on his bottom lip, his face drawn to mirror how conflicted he felt on the inside. “I can’t say what you want me to say,”[/b] he sighed, tugging at his hair. He couldn’t say that word “I love you, Mozzie.” c0ouldn’t bring himself to let it pass his lips “I love you, Mozzie.” because he felt like if he said it, even if it was just to say that he couldn’t say it, then Rhett would get the wrong idea. He looked at Rhett with sad, confused eyes, praying that he would understand. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… can’t. I can’t say it and mean it right now, and what’s the point in saying it if you don’t mean it?”[/b] He didn’t doubt that Rhett loved him, not because he was egotistical and thought that everyone loved him, but because Rhett just sounded so genuine when he said it. Moz hated himself for not being able to return that whole-hearted conviction. The brunette looked down at his hands, trying to collect his thoughts. “I want to say it,”[/b] he admitted softly. “I… we’re skipping steps here, Rhett. First it’s the drunken make out session, then realizing you like each other, and then exchanging phone numbers and going on actual dates and holding hands and non-drunken make out sessions and then meeting each other’s family- or people considered family-”[/b] He shot Rhett an apologetic look, feeling his stomach churn around uncomfortably beneath Rhett’s hands, since he hadn’t been able to bring himself to move them. “And then somewhere around there realizing that… well,”[/b] he gestured helplessly toward Rhett, feeling sick. “Realizing that you love someone and telling them.”[/b] The word felt slimy in his mouth. Wrong. Slippery and poisonous and deadly. A cobra. The hand he’d had pressed against Rhett’s cheek slid down, absently tracing one of the black tattoos etched onto the boy’s pale skin, marks that he only just now realized the boy had. He didn’t know what significance they had. Hell, he hadn’t even known the brunette had tattoos until he’d just noticed them now! He didn’t know where the boy went to school, or where he used to live, or if he was a cat or dog person, or what he wanted to do with his life, or even a handful of the things he wanted to know about Rhett. And the boy expected him to love a mystery? [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : frisky emboldened rhettie. words : nine three one. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : whoa, way to bring out the “l” word and make mozzie the bad guy. also, sorry this took so long! [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 7, 2011 11:15:45 GMT -5
Now Rhett realized that he shouldn’t have said what he said, honest to God he did, but he realized it a little too late, mainly when Mozzie paused and drew away. Why won’t the mind shut up? Wide eyed, he went to grab for Moz, but then stopped, letting his hand hang in thin air before coming back down to the couch, figuring that he’d only make things worse than they were at the moment, if that was even at all possible. The plead in the man’s eyes stung and Rhett knew he should be spoiling himself with Moz’s heat any longer, which lead him to sit up and lean the small of his back against the arm rest of the couch. “You can’t mean that. Or if you can, you probably shouldn’t,” he’d said and Rhett only averted his gaze. He did mean it, even though they’d only met, even though this little affair was initiated by the alcohol coursing through his veins like guilty pleasure. But it’d only been initiated by liquor. The rest was him, whole heartedly. But he couldn’t argue against the fact that he shouldn’t mean it. He’d known that. He’d known it ever since feeling it back at Hot Wings.
Moz has said to look and he did; he looked at the hand tenderly placed on his cheek before turning his attention back to the man. He felt perplexed; if he was disregarding Rhett’s feelings—which Rhett, oddly, was okay with—then why was he being so gentle? This, Rhett was not okay with. He would be fine if he’d blatantly said no, he did not want to try and start something, but he wasn’t doing that. Moz looked as if he felt sorry about it. He was giving the boy mixed signals, something he’d never actually dealt with before. Then again, he’d never had many relationships to get that far before. Did he want him or not, because Rhett sure as hell wanted him. He wanted to close the gap they’d both created, wanted to reverse time and just keep his wasted mouth shut, but he couldn’t do that. For all Nephilim could do, they could not take back time, could not act like the holy One. “I can’t say what you want me to say,” said Moz and although Rhett deep down inside that this was all a terrible mistake, even though he anticipated that Moz would not return his feelings, he still felt disappointed. Not so much hurt, no, he didn’t have the right to feel hurt. He’d brought this upon himself, upon Moz, too and he wanted to apologize, but now wasn’t the right time for that. “I know,” he said softly as the man continued to speak. Then he proceeded to say that he wanted to say it, which, again, confused the hell out of Rhett, but he did have a point when he stated that there was no point in saying it if one didn’t mean it. So he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean any of it? He was just…for the hell of it? Rhett shook his head in an attempt to tell Moz that he didn’t have to go on, that Rhett certainly got the point, but no, he continued anyway, which prevented Rhett from getting up and stumbling his way back to York Street—oh, so now he remembered? Damn good timing, because Rhett figured he’d worn out his welcome. That’s, assuming he was welcomed in the first place.
“I want to say it,” “I get it,”
[/b] Rhett said this time, under his breath, as low as he’d spoken since coming here. Despite himself, Rhett managed to throw a quizzical look Moz’s way when he started explaining the “steps” of a relationship. Since when? As far as the boy was concerned, it just happened when it happened. Maybe that’s why he was always alone and Zell was always in good company. And even if they did follow these steps, they’d still be missing one: Rhett’s “family” was all the way back in Tokyo. He doubted the two parties would meet any time soon. He shook his head again, shrugging off Moz’s apologetic stare as he let his hands fall from Moz’s stomach to his sides. He didn’t want it. He got it. He wasn’t experienced in this whole thing; he didn’t need to be mocked as well. “…Realizing that you love someone and telling them.” So he had yet to realize? Rhett was almost tempted to raise the childish question of “so there’s still a chance?” but instead, the words “I’m sorry-” formed and he regretted it. He was surely already making Moz feel like an ass; he didn’t want to add to that, even though his inner Zell was urging him to. "-just forget it...forget I said anything. Please."[/b] He could hear the desperation in his own voice and he nearly called himself pathetic. He would have, had he not already done so from the beginning. He felt a chilling sensation and looked down on his arm to realize that Moz was tracing one of his runes with his finger. He was currently finishing up the rune for balance, which was what Rhett needed now most of all. Rhett watched as he moved on to another one, obviously needing something to distract himself. Well, Rhett could help with that and turn his nerd on. “They’re runes,”[/b] he said, not at all caring if he was supposed to or not. Anything to make him sound more educated, more in control of himself. “That’s the rune of healing, the iratze”[/b] he said as Moz traced along the ever famous rune. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] Word Count: nine four eight Tags: Mozzie <3 Lyrics: Needing Someone by Gene Clark Notes: I feel bad that Moz's doing all the talking...and I just realized that Rhett would have his stele and seraph blade on hand...lmao ;P Outfit: Just made of plastic and leather [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 9, 2011 22:10:55 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] Despite Rhett apologizing and clarifying that he shouldn’t have said anything, Moz still felt like an ass for not being able to say the three measly little words that the boy wanted him to. Except they weren’t measly, not to Moz. People threw the word love around like it was a bouncy ball. They loved this, they loved that, don’t you just love this pair of shoes? But he saw love as something a lot more fragile, something that would break and become meaningless if thrown at too many things. He tried to refrain from applying the term to too many things, because certainly liking a pair of shoes would be just as good as loving a pair of shoes, except that he wouldn’t have just said that he invested part of his heart, his time and energy and nourishment into a pair of things that people walk on all day long.
“I’m sorry…” Rhett uttered, and Moz raked a hand through his dark hair, imagining that he could tear through his scalp and skull and brains to get down to the nitty-gritty part, the rational part tucked way down inside all of the sensory neurons or whatever. He imagined clawing out the rational part that wouldn’t let him say what Rhett wanted him to say, all because it was too soon, and they barely knew each other, and it wouldn’t mean anything, and blah blah blah. Like hell it wouldn’t mean anything. If he could manage to tell Rhett that he loved him- even if he didn’t, or wasn’t sure if he did or not- then he could save them both. Save Rhett from all of the squashed hopes and rejection. Save himself from the possibility of losing the boy, from having him slip through his fingers like sand. Beautiful, gorgeous, stunning sand. "…just forget it...forget I said anything. Please." Forget it? Forget that he’d just laid his heart out on the table, his innocent and unbroken and maybe just a little bit naïve heart, only for Moz to stab it without hesitation? If only it were that easy.
“I can’t forget it, Rhett.”
[/b] Moz sighed, burying his face in his palms. He had a headache, suddenly. Too much thinking. Too much sifting through what was the right thing to say and what was the worst. Obviously, his sifter was busted. Maybe he should just stop trying. He peeked up at the boy, squelching the feeling like he was the evil heartless villain who ended up making children cry. He was better than that. He just had to prove it to Rhett. “I can’t say it yet. Yet. Maybe someday but… not tonight, okay? You’re just going to have to be patient with me. If you even decide that you want to see me again. It’s cocky of me to assume that I’ll ever see you again after this. And you have every right to decide you don’t ever want to see me… again…”[/b] He trailed off, realizing that he was babbling and had no idea where to go from there. The younger male explained that his tattoos weren’t tattoos, but rather runes, and the one that Mozzie was tracing was called an iratze, the rune for healing. He could use one of those, Moz decided. An iratze to heal this entire hiccup, this big bad mess that had spawned from something that seemed so… perfect was another word that Moz hated using, so the next best thing he could come up with was right. What he and Rhett had, whatever it was, seemed right. The brunette really desperately hoped he hadn’t just fucked it up. He took a deep breath, forcing himself up off the couch. Away from Rhett. Away from the clusterfuck he’d just turned their nice make out session into. “I’ll be right back,”[/b] he promised, shooting Rhett his most sincere look. He didn’t want the boy to assume that he was going to abandon him there on the couch, with nothing but a couple of cats to help pick up the pieces of whatever it was that Moz had just broken. He really hoped he didn’t break this. Mozzie stalked down the hall, poking his head into Fae’s room to double check that the girl wasn’t secretly recording this on one of his cameras to blackmail him with later. Shit. Fae. He’d have to explain to Rhett later that he had a roommate, and that he was not romantically involved with said roommate, even though she was an attractive specimen of the female species and he had both the means and opportunity to be romantically involved with her. But for now she wasn’t home, so he was safe. He slipped into his room, pulling his pillow and comforter off of the tangle of sheets he called a bed and balling them up in the crook of his elbow. He stopped at the linen closet, something that Fae had insisted on which he was immensely grateful for now, and grabbed an extra pillow and a blanket. As far as he knew, Rhett still didn’t remember where he lived, and was going to be spending the night here until the alcohol wore off in the morning. He padded back into the living room, setting all of the sleep supplies on the extra couch before looking at Rhett. Part of the reason he could tell Rhett that he loved him was because they didn’t know anything about each other. Well, here went nothing. “My name is Mozart Julius Adams, and I hate it. I’m a junior at NYU, where my dad teaches a history class. My major is photography, and I’ve been dying to take pictures of you since I first saw you in Hot Wings. I’m bisexual, my last relationship was with a girl, and it ended almost a year ago when she dumped me. I really, really like you, Rhett Halewile, and even though I’m pretty sure I just fucked this up, I really want this to go somewhere.”[/b] He laughed suddenly, a nervous, broken type of laugh. “I’m so terrified to hear what you’ll say that I’m actually shaking.”[/b] He held up his hand to indicate that he was, indeed, shaking. [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : frisky emboldened rhettie. words : one oh three six. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : this took way too long for me to make for you. and it’s long. sorry. songs that kept me going : “the scientist” by coldplay, “we will become silhouettes” by the postal surface, “mad world” by gary jules, and “how to be dead” by snow patrol. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 10, 2011 7:50:40 GMT -5
“I can’t forget it, Rhett,” Moz’d said and then buried his face in his hands like he was the one who wanted to go hide in a corner. Rhett couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to—no, why he couldn’t forget. Isn’t that what he’d been suggesting all along? That the confession was meaningless unless it was returned? Well obviously it wasn’t returned, which took all its meaning away and it was always easy to forget something that didn’t matter, wasn’t it? He watched as Moz hesitantly peeked at him from behind his hands. He didn’t like putting the man on edge, didn’t like making him think this much. It should have been so simple and yet Rhett messed it up again. He’d found a way and he’d exploited it; he needed to separate his fighting instincts from his social skills better, obviously because if Zell found out about this…well, he wasn’t going to find out about this. At least not yet, not when even Rhett had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen.
Then he went on to explain that Rhett had every right to walk out the door and never come back. He must’ve been joking; had he not been noticing Rhett’s constant flushing, not brought on by alcohol? And then he let his voice trail off like he already knew the answer. Rhett hoped he’d know the answer, but in case he went with choice B, he said, a little hesitantly and softly, “But I do want to see you again, Moz.”
[/b] He didn’t know when he’d stopped calling him “Mozzie”, but he didn’t argue it. It made him sound less drunk, more in control of what he was saying and more importantly, sure of what he was saying. He removed himself from the couch and Rhett felt like something very precious had just up and left. He suddenly felt a cool breeze from nowhere, but then it died down into the New York City humidity it’d been this morning. “I’ll be right back,” he said, it sounding like a promise, and although Rhett trusted his word, he couldn’t help but feel that Moz deserved some time alone. When he’d turned the corner, he grabbed for his leather jacket again, feeling the slick stele inside the deep pockets. In the other pocket was simply the hilt of a seraph blade. Once this hilt was called upon, it’d ignite into a glorious blade, but Rhett was hoping he wouldn’t have to use that. He zipped the front pockets shut, so that the weapons wouldn’t clatter to the floor or so Moz wouldn’t be able to see them plainly and inquire about them. This way, he could say it was his iPod or something. His phone was in his back pocket and he contemplated about calling Zell and asking for advice. Rhett threw the jacket over his shoulders to drape like a miniature blanket; he didn’t feel much like fully putting it on. He nestled into the couch, lying on his side and using his arm to prop up his head. At least he was earning his coordination back. After a second thought, he pulled out his phone and checked to see if there were any messages awaiting him. There were two from the girls back in Tokyo, telling him to “hurry it up, damn it and call us! we wanna hear about the big apple!”, the other message from the calmer of the girls, simply texting him to let him know that she was also mildly curious. The next, like six or so messages were all from Zell, from today, inquiring where the hell he was, did he want to meet him at so and so place, how he was doing in the heat, why he was ignoring him, and then—this time more strongly—inquiring where the hell he was. He smiled into his phone; Zell always did that; and quickly replied with “i’m ok. sry.” After which, he tucked the phone into his pocket. He couldn’t call to ask for directions yet, he still had a slight slur and Zell would chew his head and spit it back out once he’d figured out why he hadn’t texted back because he would figure it out. A soft padding alerted Rhett that Moz was returning from wherever he disappeared to. Rhett adjusted himself so that he could see him from his position, curiosity getting the better of him and he saw in the man’s arms a pillow and an extra blanket. He uttered thanks when he’d set the supplies down and looked up when Moz went on to talk about himself. He was a little wide-eyed; a little surprised at first, but then fought his tiredness and listened to him. For him to be spilling all of this to him…it meant he was still interested and Rhett didn’t want to mess this chance up. He was even more surprised when Moz stated that he was very terrified of what he was going to say in response. Well, he didn’t want to give him a reason to be terrified and he didn’t know what to say, so he mimicked him and began to tell him a little about himself. “My full name is Rhett Damon Halewile and it was given to me by a very nice woman who took me in off the streets when I was younger, so I rather like my name. I’ve recently come to the city from Tokyo, Japan to—”[/b] he paused, thinking of how to word this without using the words “Nephilim” and “demon” in the same sentence. “As a sort of study abroad program…I happen to like art a lot, though I can’t draw or anything, so I don’t think I’d mind you taking pictures of me…My last relationship was also with a girl, but nothing really happened, we just sort of hung out…and I’m pretty sure you didn’t fuck things up because I’m still really into you and I want to make this work and I’m terrified to see you afraid of me, so please don’t be.”[/b] [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] Word Count: one zero two six xD Tags: Mozzie <3 Lyrics: Needing Someone by Gene Clark Notes: I apologize for length, too haha. Outfit: Just made of plastic and leather [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 14, 2011 17:58:36 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] Rhett said something as he padded out of the living room, and it took Moz a second to process the sound from simple words to precious things that had meaning to his tired brain. “But I do want to see you again, Moz.” So, he was Moz again, was he? That seemed to be a good sign. It meant that Rhett couldn’t possibly be as drunk as he’d been back at the club, when his name had strictly been ‘Mozzie.’ Not that he minded being called Mozzie; it was different. A nice different. He just hadn’t like the way Rhett had drunkenly slurred the pet name, slanting his words like a doctor’s scrawled chicken scratch. Another good sign lit up the room like neon, pink and fuzzy, when Rhett admitted that he ]did want to see him again. Though the pink, fuzzy hue probably had more to do with the relief that swept through Moz like a wave; it was definitely only a figment of his imagination.
He returned and, after spilling out a fairly large chunk of his personal history to the boy, sat tentatively down on the edge of the coffee table, because settling onto the other couch with Rhett seemed too close to the boy right now, too near the warm, bright spirit that he still felt like he’d crushed, a t least partially. The opposite couch seemed too far away, too cold and lonely. Due to the limited seating options, the coffee table would have to do. As long as Rhett didn’t decide to forgive him and try to pin him back onto the table so he could pick up where they’d left off, it would do just fine. Sadly or thankfully - Moz wasn’t entirely sure how he felt at the moment, underneath the nerves and the fear that he’d just destroyed something beautiful before it even had a chance to reach its peek potential- Rhett didn’t try to kiss him again. He followed the brunette’s suit, and in the thirty-seven seconds that it took for boy to speak, Moz learned a lot about the male sitting- well, lying, technically- across from him. “Consider yourself very, very lucky that my camera isn’t within reach like it usually is.”
[/b] He grinned, suddenly a lot more relaxed now that it had been confirmed that he hadn’t fucked anything up. His shoulders drooped, the tenseness in his muscles eased like someone had just given him a thorough back massage, though the unpleasant knowledge of just how easy it was for them to scare each other shitless still nagged at the back of his mind. “I’d be snapping pictures of your handsome face all night; you wouldn’t get a single wink of sleep.”[/b] Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Moz inspected Rhett. Not with the eye of his inner artist, but with the eye of his inner worrywart. He felt protective of the boy, somewhere under the layers of attraction and interest and curiosity. “Speaking of sleep,”[/b] he started, feeling around on the table next to him for the water bottles he’d brought out ages ago. “Seriously. Drink these before you go to sleep. As I recall mentioning before, I don’t want you to be dealing with the world’s worst hangover when you wake up.”[/b] His fingers grasped one of the bottles, and he pressed the plastic into the younger brunette’s hand. Again. Before things could take a turn down déjà vu lane, Moz stood up and skirted around the coffee table, grabbing at the topmost article of bedding and turning to toss it at Rhett’s feet. “And if you’re cold, there are plenty of ways besides your jacket that I could offer to fix that. Blankets, body heat…”[/b] he trailed off, grinning again. [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : rhettie. :) words : six two eight. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : shorttttt. D: and it’s moz’s comforter that he tossed rhett, just fyi. didn’t feel like clarifying that in the post. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 14, 2011 19:51:44 GMT -5
When he’d finished speaking, Rhett looked at Moz, watching for any signs of interest, concern, really whatever would pass over the man’s face. Instead, he found him sitting back on the coffee table, on the very piece of furniture where this whole thing started. Rhett watched him warily, afraid of experiencing this whole cycle of confession and rejection again, though he was confused. Was he rejected? What did Moz want exactly? Closeness or for the time to pass and have his apartment back? He blamed the alcohol, though it was not the culprit, for his lack of judgment; for not being able to read people as he normally could. It was so tempting, so tempting to just get over it and offer himself up again. But he wasn’t sure if this was what Moz wanted; he wasn’t even sure if it was what he truly wanted. He liked where they were now, together, talking, even if he was still a little under the influence. Rhett was starting to feel more tired by the minute and it didn’t help that he was lying down, his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier despite his will to stay up longer.
The only thing that kept him from conking out right then and there was when Moz began to talk again. Rhett? Lucky? Ha, no. He’d been born with a curse, been abandoned because of it. The only reason he considered himself lucky was because he met Zell and he was the one to become his parabatai. That was how he was fortunate; he’d been given a chance. He didn’t need anything else, but he sure as hell wanted more. He wanted Moz and he was pleased when he began to grin. He may not know him well—not yet—but he liked the way it formed on his face, the way he seemed so focused on him. Selfish? Yeah, a little, but he didn’t care at the moment. “I’d be snapping pictures of your handsome face all night,” he’d said and Rhett found he didn’t mind, but… “I don’t think staying awake is an option,”
[/b] he joked and a soft yawn escaped his mouth. Opening his eyes from yawning, he found he was being stared at, which he didn’t find odd or anything, but he hadn’t been expecting it. A moment ago, both boys were seemingly trying to avoid the other’s stares. He was happy to see things had moved on. “Speaking of sleep,” Moz said and drew from behind him the water bottles he’d brought out at the beginning. One of them was already open, the cap slightly undone and just a few sips worth of liquid missing. He hadn’t been very thirsty before, but now looking at the water made his mouth feel parched and the taste of the Manhattan returned with vengeance. To his remark about the possibility of curing his hangover in the morning, Rhett nodded. He knew there were no cures for hangovers, no mundane cures anyway. Amelia always managed to whip up something for Zell, when the boy was practically dying on the floor in drunken aggression, but that was only when she felt he truly needed it. She was his aunt, after all, and no matter how annoyed she got with Zell, she couldn’t let the boy suffer. Rhett was wishing for that treatment at the moment; it’d knock him out and thus cure the headache that’d returned. Too much thinking, Rhett supposed. After he’d taken a few large gulps, Rhett felt something thrown at his feet and he lifted his head to see a comforter. It didn’t look like the type to belong to the living room, so as Rhett gathered it up, he looked at it. It…it smelled like him, like Moz. He didn’t know how, but it did. Maybe he was just returning to his wasted state, but he knew it was definitely his. He didn’t want to take the man’s blanket from him, feeling horrible about it and when he offered to warm him up via body heat, Rhett looked up at him. “I don’t think I’d mind that either,”[/b] he said, in the same manner as when he told the man he wouldn’t mind being his subject in his photography. “This is your comforter, isn’t it? The one you sleep with, I mean. I don’t want to take it from you.”[/b] [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by mozart julius adams on Aug 15, 2011 13:11:10 GMT -5
BUT I CAN STILL PRETEND WITH MY MEMORIES AND PHOTOGRAPHS i have learned to love the lie [/b][/i] I WANNA KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AWKWARD AND INNOCENT.[/font][/size][/size][/size] .....[/center][/b] Feeling his protectiveness settle into contempt as Rhett swallowed several large glugs of water, Moz decided that there was nothing else he could do to prepare for the hangover that was going to be pulsing at the boy’s temples tomorrow. The only other things he could think to prescribe as hangover relievers were aspirin and a dark, quiet place to sleep the worst of it off. Both of which would have to wait until after the hangover actually hit home. Poor bastard. With that addressed as thoroughly as he could manage, Moz moved on to the next item on his “steps to taking care of an intoxicated Rhett” list, which he was essentially making up as he went along, but that was beside the point. He’d gotten the boy somewhere safe, where he couldn’t get lost or mugged or run over by a taxi, and he’d gotten liquid into the boy’s system so the alcohol wouldn’t dehydrate him. He would’ve tried to feed the younger brunette, but there wasn’t really all that much food-wise around the house, and besides, Rhett was tired. The poor little guy looked like he would be out like a light as soon as the lights were actually off.
Rhett decided that he wouldn’t mind sharing body heat, and then went on to selflessly declare that he didn’t want to take Moz’s comforter from him. Because it was indeed Moz’s comforter; he’d grabbed the wrong one when he’d thrown the nearest blanket at Rhett. Oh well. The bartender chuckled, sauntering closer to the boy. “I can think of a solution to that problem, but you look too comfy for me to make you move off the couch, and anyways, I think sleeping in the same bed on the first night is a bad way to start a relationship.”
[/b] Sitting on the edge of the couch, near Rhett’s knees, he waved his hand dismissively at the whole comforter thing. “I get to sleep with it every single night. I don’t mind letting you have it for tonight.”[/b] He had the selfishness to wish, in passing, that he had a bigger couch. The idea of falling asleep cuddled against Rhett was immensely appealing. Instead, the brunette leaned forward and smoothed his lips over Rhett’s, briefly. Pulling away before the other male could grab hold of him and turn the affectionate gesture into something deep and passionate and heavy, Moz fought to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to ruffle the boy’s dark hair, or smooth it, or stroke his cheek, or trace his tattoos- all of them, even the ones that disappeared into the confines of his shirt, the ones that hid beneath that damned cotton. But he behaved himself, for the most part. In twenty-one years, he’d never learned how to keep his eyes from scoping out curves and colors and textures and god dammit. He needed to get away now, or he was never going to let this boy get his rest. Rhett yawned again, and that did it. Moz stood up, taking a couple of careful steps away, raking his fingers through his hair. “Bedtime.”[/b] he announced, yawning himself. He glanced at his watch, a little surprised to discover that the time hovered close to three in the morning. He padded over to the light switch and flipped it off, suddenly blinded by the shadows that engulfed the room from their perches in the corners. They’d been waiting. Something soft tried to trip him as he picked his way back toward his bed for the night, the couch opposite Rhett. He deftly leaned down to scoop the cat up, knowing simply by the weight- or lack thereof- that Nightmare had come out of hiding to investigate what was going on. Setting the feline on the leather, Moz sat and, as an afterthought, tugged at the fake fangs he hadn’t managed to pry off before. They complied with his wishes, and popped off with little resistance. He shoved the dental prosthetics in his pocket and sprawled out on the couch, yawning again. “’Night, Rhettie,”[/b] he sighed softly, snuggling into his pillow without even bothering with the tangled mess that used to be a blanket. It pressed against his side as he closed his eyes. ----- Something fluffy brushing against his nose and cheek stirred him from his slumber. His surroundings became more apparent as he struggled to fall back into his blissful dreams. The soft thud of kitty paws colliding with hardwood flooring. The door softly clicking shut. The softness of a pillow pressed under his chin, leather against the bare skin on his stomach and cotton against the small of his back where his shirt had ridden up during the night. Sunlight gleaming in through the windows, turning the inside of his eyelids an unpleasant red. Moz groaned softly, pressing his face into his pillow and throwing an arm over his head; the other one seemed to be pinned under his pillow, under his chin. Either Rhett had left and whatever cat had been sleeping with him had decided to go and see why, or Fae was home and either Nightmare or Zombie had gone to welcome her back. It was probably the latter, since his dulled senses registered the soft, dead to the world breathing of unconsciousness somewhere in the vicinity of the other couch. Rhett was either still asleep, or someone had snuck into the apartment, taken the boys place, and fallen asleep. Whatever. It was too early for the brunette to care about much, other than going back to sleep. And he was fairly certain that if he had classes today, Fae would come and drag him to them herself. So he was perfectly safe in letting his warm cocoon of drowsiness lull him back to sleep, right? [/justify][/size] ..... tagged : rhettie & faelan :) words : seven oh nine. lyrics : “let’s get fucked up & die” by motion city soundtrack. graphics : by Caridee @ caution 2.0, cuz i’m lazy. outfit : innamorato/i don’t need legs to stand. notes : and cue fae! also, writing about yawning had made me yawn. And it’s one in the afternoon. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by rhett damon halewile on Aug 15, 2011 15:47:53 GMT -5
As Moz went on about how he looked too comfy to be forced to move over, Rhett internally rolled his eyes. Obviously, he was going to be in for a real shock when he met Zell because Zell Price Nitar didn’t care if you were half asleep or even dead to the world. If he wanted something, he was determined to get it that minute and Rhett had learned that the hard way when his room had been too messy—which was really bad because his room usually did look like a tornado hit it—for him to sleep in, so he’d decided to bunk with his dearest parabatai. Because, you know, it would have killed him to just clean his room and—wait, he was already thinking ahead, getting too ahead of himself. Moz wasn’t going to meet Zell anytime soon, he was sure. First they’d have to make it to the morning and then go on more dates and then maybe, maybe he’d introduce him to Zell, to make up for the lack of family. “and anyways, I think sleeping in the same bed on the first night is a bad way to start a relationship,” said Moz and to this, Rhett chuckled earnestly. Right, they’d just gone over this, hadn’t they? He was tempted to kiddingly point out that this was not a bed and therefore it didn’t matter to him, but before he could, Moz’s lips brushed his softly and Rhett felt his stomach churn and his body warm. As quickly as he’d come, he pulled away and Rhett held himself back from grabbing him again.
He announced it was bedtime and Rhett already felt his body relax. His shoulders slumped, his head buried deeper into his pillow and his heavy lids were finally given permission to shut. In his subconscious he heard Moz yawn and felt a little sorry for keeping him up this late. He grabbed for the comforter and twirled it into his fisted hand, to keep a better hold of it. Rhett tended to toss and turn and carelessly throwing Moz’s comforter to the floor would not have been very nice. He heard a soft mew and figured the cats had come back out to play. Not like they would bother him; he’d be out like a light in ten minutes tops.
“Night, Rhettie,” said Moz and Rhett was pleasantly surprised. No one but Zell usually called him “Rhettie.” He wanted to say something back, wanted to thank him one last time for all his hospitality and kindness and for not taking advantage of his drunken state, but before he had the chance, he felt sleep overcome him and everything was thrown into pitch blackness.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------[/center][/color] [/justify][/size][/center]
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Post by faelan amatis garroway on Aug 17, 2011 14:05:54 GMT -5
and I know it’s been such a long time [/size][/color] since we’ve just been friends [/size] [/color] [/u] and not soldiers on the front line of a war [/size][/center][/color]
Full moons always sucked; there was no doubt about it. There was the hiding everything from Moz, and then there was the having to sneak back into the apartment before he noticed she was gone. While Fae knew that her roommate probably didn’t care where she disappeared off to at least once a month, he would probably be curious if Moz bothered to look at a calendar and realize that she always disappeared when the moon was brightest. Maybe he would just assume she was part of a moon-worshipping cult, or something.
Pondering these things as Faelan lay in between two clumps of bracken in a deserted park, she glanced up at the sky, noting that the sun was higher in the sky that it usually was when she woke. Shit! she thought, slowly sitting up. Well, she still had all her limbs. And there wasn’t THAT much blood on her pyjamas.
Of course, Fae was probably the only werewolf in existence who could actually forget when a full moon was. So the previous night, she had put on her pjs and curled up to watch television on one of the couches when she started feeling “wolfy”. Normally, she tried to wear old, already damaged clothes for full moons. But no, not this time. So here she was, in a park in her pyjamas, right down to the Yoda slippers.
She sighed, rising slowly to her feet. Well, I guess it’s time to get home. So that’s where she went. Good thing the nearest park to her apartment was only a couple of blocks away. In the ten minutes it took her to walk home, Fae had been bombarded by shouts from passing drivers. “Been fighting, eh?” ; “Nice shoes!” ; and the most disturbing of all, “Like it rough, sweetheart?” When she finally got inside the building, Fae heaved a deep sigh of relief. Hopefully Moz was still asleep, so she could change before he saw her. Grabbing her key from the chain around her neck, Fae unlocked the door and slipped inside. Apparently she wasn’t quiet enough, however, as Nightmare and Zombie came dashing over to greet her.
“Hullo Nightmare Moon, Zombie-man!” she whispered, bending down to scratch each cat behind the ears. “Where’s that crazy roommate of mine?”
There was Moz, sleeping on one of the couches. Why he hadn’t bothered to move into his bedroom was beyond her, but he’s probably just passed out watching TV or something. It was the fact that Moz hadn’t covered up that perturbed Fae – if he got sick she would be the one to look after him, and her soup often proved to be lethal. But he was still asleep, thank goodness. Fae snuck into her bedroom and grabbed a tank top identical to the one she’d left the house in. The other was balled up and thrown into a corner of her closet.
Walking over to wake Moz, she stopped abruptly. If Moz was on the couch she could see, whose foot was poking off the end of the one she couldn’t? Grinning, Fae moved over to take a look. The figure was a guy, that was for certain.
But the strange boy on her couch – there was something familiar about him. While Fae was sure she had never actually met the boy – she remembered everyone she’d ever met, of course – but there was a strangely familiar air about him. When she glanced down at him, Fae had to stifle a yelp. On his exposed hand, and up the rest of the arm peeking out of his blanket, there were the almost-invisible-but-still-totally-there scars that could only be made by one weapon. What the HELL was a Nephilim doing in her apartment, completely passed out, and smelling slightly of vodka? Did Moz know what he was?
Moving around the coffee table, Fae sat herself not only on the same couch as Moz, but right on his stomach. Not a particularly comfortable seat, but it would surely wake him up. “Good morning, sleeping beauty!”
[/color] Fae whispered, bending down to her roommate’s ear. “You’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you? Now wake up, because I’m hungry and I want all the details!” [/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify] • • • • • • • tagged : rhettie & mozman. words : seven zero zero. lyrics : “don't leave” by MoM outfit : Moz’s morning after notes : bah, I suck at intro posts. also, I’ll be very impressed if you caught the my little pony reference. xD [/size]
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