Onyx feels more than sees Andres coming towards him, like the feeling you get when a storm’s about to break. He tracks one body moving with less rhythm, and more stiffness than the rest, and moments later that body is heading toward him.

He… honestly hadn’t expected this. He’d honestly expected Andres to just pull his costume back together (what little of it there was) and go back off to do what he had been doing, which, apparently, was bending over for everyone in the fucking building.

So the little spike of hope he feels is more nauseating than it is comforting. Because it’s hard to reconcile with yourself when you realize you have feelings for someone moments after stopping them from getting willingly railed by a stranger in bad makeup in a shitty club bathroom. And it’s even harder to go about the rest of your night with the solid assumption they’re just going to do it again.

Mentally he grinds that little spark of hope beneath his heel until it regrets ever considering its existence in the first place.

He doesn’t give Andres the satisfaction of a jump or a recoil, though the strike against the wall is hard enough for him to feel the shitty decor rattling from their hooks.

Onyx turns the full brunt of his exhaustion on Andres: a half-lidded, dead-eyed look of pure disappointment. It was a clever mask: it could be anything from faded anger, to mockery, to spite.

In reality, though, it was just him being tired. Having emotions was taxing, especially after not having them for nine-odd years.

“What was what?”

andres buenaventura
costume

☉

He can't get a read on Onyx. Frankly, he doesn't think he'd ever been good at that. Not really. He picked the wrong answer every time. But he doesn't really care about that right now. He bristled, the look Onyx gave him, like he couldn't give two shits- like he didn't care only served to further anger him. He hated it. Like his entire existence was just a nuisance to him when it had been Onyx who'd interrupted his night. Over what? A silly hello? It hurt more than he'd like to admit, and it only added to the fury burning sickly hot in his chest. [break][break]

"That!" the blonde spat back. It doesn't take him longer than a few seconds to elaborate. "The bathroom shit. You interrupt my night, pick a fight with me, and then just- just leave?!" Honestly that's the best case scenario, if he hadn't been told he was this man's life long problem. [break][break]

Andres had thought, or well, he had hoped years apart meant growth. Maturity. A change that meant even with how contentious their first meeting had been, that the subsequent next ones were better. He had thought he was doing ok, holding back from falling face first into what he'd been years ago. Still hoping to just be friends, nothing more. So, why then, every time he thought they were ok and that he could loosen up a little did it get thrown back in his face? He doesn't acknowledge the part of his brain that thinks this obsession goes beyond friendship. Not for a second does he acknowledge anything more. He'd be lucky if he could call Onyx an acquaintance after this. But he's so tired of being patient and understanding and forgiving. He's angry and hurt and sad too. He just didn't take it out on others.

[break][break]

+ onyx straub [break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Onyx has made being hard to read an olympic sport-- one that he’s medaled in since the dawn of time. In reality, it’s just being brutally honest, combined with the ability to not let your emotions show on your face.

He’d never seen Andres angry. It was amazing.

So of course he was going to keep doing what he was doing.

“Night’s still young,” he says, head lolling back against the wall, "should be plenty of time for you."

To get spread by anything that moves was inferred.

“Better get crackin’. You have some ground to cover.”

And it's-- almost funny, the way the scenery change had shifted him. He didn't feel quite so off balance, now. He didn't feel trapped. Now it was Andres with the comical rage and Onyx holding the carrot tied to the stick.

The trick was how long he could get him to bite.

andres buenaventura
costume

☉

He doesn't get this weird switch in attitude. The vacuum of emotion that had just left Andres flailing and snarling at something that was no longer there. Onyx had started this so why- because it's unfair. It felt unfair. something about this whole push and pull felt unfair. Onyx is languid and aloof, but even with how calmly he spoke Andres felt hackles rise. His eyebrows knit together further and his lips from from an angry frown to a full snarl. Like he was trying to keep from snapping or biting in sheer frustration. [break][break]

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, retracted his hand and straightening up to his full height. His heart kept pumping steadily, increasing in pace but not fully panicked. The adrenaline spike from earlier is still working it's way through his system. The condescension is clear as day. Even if he's taller, he felt like he was being looked down on. And while Andres had never been one to care of the opinions of others, he cared about Onyx's. What had he done to deserve his ire anyway? [break][break]

"You sought me out, finish the conversation. Don't just- just fuckin' run off."

[break][break]

+ onyx straub [break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

It was funny, this concept that Andres and Onyx were spiraling around the same drain: Onyx didn’t know why the fuck he’d gone and gotten involved, and Andres sure didn’t know why the fuck Onyx’s had gotten involved-- so who was driving the fucking plane?

Andres gets angrier. Whatever Onyx is doing, it’s working.

Because this is what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? A reaction. An emotion. Something to make Andres feel. And it didn’t so much matter what it was, just that it happened.

His face was blank but inside he was grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Andres shifted and stood taller. Onyx, instinctively, flattened his back against the wall, raising his head and looking up, defiant. He’d die like this, someday, he felt pretty sure.

“Conversation’s over, sweetheart,” he says, tone as flat as he could make it (even though inside he’s-- he’s definitely something, something terrifyingly close to turned on, but he’s so good at hiding it, he really is), “you told me everything I needed to know. I didn’t mean to throw off your groove, emperor, honest.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Please, don’t stop fucking everything that moves on my account.”

andres buenaventura
costume

☉

He hated how small he felt, even as Onyx looked up at him. He thought he was better than this. He was supposed to be better than this. He'd successfully convinced himself he didn't care anymore and yet here he was getting his feelings hurt all over again. And the only person he could blame was himself. Perhaps the loss of inhibitions makes the hurt throb worse but there's nothing he can do but hold it together. Which he doesn't, and its plain as day despite the low lights of the rave and the dizzying pounding of bass through the walls. So much is going on around them that nobody can see or probably nobody cares about the possible fight that's about to erupt. [break][break]

Andres is so worked up he's begun panting, the energy building up inside. He's like a dog desperately watching the door so he can bolt outside of it. His head pings weirdly at the pet name. something flashing in his eyes as he felt the last few straws of his patience beginning to snap. "Don't call me that." he practically spat back, eyes narrowing as he continued his sarcastic remarks. [break][break]

Gods, he would love nothing more than to go back to getting crossfaded in a bathroom with handsome strangers. He could've still been having fun all on his own. why'd he have to pursue this? His hand goes to Onyx's collar trying to smack his head flat back on the wall if he even moved it. "What the fuck is your damage Onyx?!" he practically yelled, though it made no difference to anyone else. The music muffled most sounds. "The fuck does it matter if fuck everything that moves?" He's shaking. He felt so awful. He wanted to simultaneously punch Onyx in the face and go home.

[break][break]

+ onyx straub [break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

They move in tandem. Andres reaches up and grabs his jacket collar. Onyx’s hands find their way to Andres’ hips-- unbidden, a completely unintended motion, side-effect, product, result. Like failing brakes on a car he aims for a featherlight touch and fails, gripping once again, a mirror of what had happened in the bathroom.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

A distant part of him wonders if he’s taken it too far. A larger, closer part, like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic, doesn’t give a flying fuck.

His smile is thick like honey, slow and steady to reveal itself.

“There’s no need to yell, sunshine. I’m right here.”

andres buenaventura
costume

☉

Horrible. That's how he feels when the skin under Onyx's palms felt like it was burning. Or when his breath hitched when Onyx called him cute. His ears were ringing, and his throat clenched shut. His face flushed in the low light. He's caught completely off guard by how much he liked it. If only it didn't feel degrading. All he can manage is a low, "Don't-" barely able to finish his warning. Because he didn't want to know what would happen if he heard onyx straub call him that a second time. [break][break]

He swallowed hard. "Do you have to be a dick about everything?" He doubled down, and avoided unpacking what exactly he was feeling.[break][break]

And then there's that smile, mocking him like Onyx had him all figured out. Why is Andres the only one who's worked up here? It's not fair. Narrowed eyes widen in distress, and a bit of the mess of emotions inside his brain pools at the corners. Sunshine would've been cute from anyone else. He'd always been a crier, but he never expected it when he was angry and in public. "You are so full of shit." His voice is unsteady, much like the rest of him.

[break][break]

+ onyx straub [break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

Every breath Andres takes, every part in his lips (swollen from kissing other people), is heat straight through Onyx. He's really not thinking with this brain, now, as he reaches up and uses one hand to cup the back of his head.

"Yeah.”

It has a double meaning: yes, he has to be a dick about everything. Yes, he is so full of shit. Yes, this is what he wanted.

"Yeah, I know.”

And he pulls him down, presses their mouths together.

andres buenaventura
costume

☉

Andres is too taken aback to fight, electricity zipping down his spine as their lips connected. It takes about a second before he snapped into action, pushing himself against Onyx and biting at him as he chased the kiss. He'd regret this later, but for right now? He can't think at all. [break][break]

Any thoughts about how maybe this was a horrible joke or a trap are shoved far back into his subconscious. He doesn't care, searching for relief from everything that he had pent up tonight. There's no time to consider how or why right then. He just wanted more.


[break][break]

+ onyx straub [break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

He goes willingly. This is what he wanted, he just wasn't willing to take (give?) easily. He doesn't care if it's out of anger or to prove a point, he wanted Andres to-- to feel something, for him, about him. He opens his mouth, allowing Andres full reign, except for a second he takes to nead Andres' bottom lip in his teeth, pulling it, letting it snap back before forcing their mouths together again.

Pressed against the wall he lets the hand at Andres' hip trail around to (finally) grab his ass; the other holds his head in place.

He doesn’t know how he got here, he really doesn’t. The evening has been nothing short of cataclysmic. Maybe he hopes Andres won’t remember most of this when he’s sobered up. Maybe he doesn’t know if that’s scarier than the alternative.

He doesn’t usually do this; he’s not prone to physical whims of fancy. But Andres drives him crazy, in more ways than one, seemingly without trying. Maybe he’d finally just hit a wall, and reached the end of his rope; maybe that’s what drives him to cant his pelvis and seek out the heated angles he does.

More likely, he flew too close to the sun; he overdosed on the emotions he was wringing out of Andres, and it has spilled off into this frantic lash of lip and tongue, the catch of his belt on the cheap fabric of Andres’ skirt, the way the buckles clink as they’re pressed into his lower abdomen.

andres buenaventura
costume

☉

He wants to stay angry. He should be angry. He'd just spent the past 5 minutes getting condescended to. Even as he pressed their bodies flush together. Onyx pulls a small curse out of him before shutting him up and he can feel himself slipping further and further. His body temperature is soaring, and he's not proud of the groan the rumbles out of him when Onyx grabs him. Nor the way he grinds into his bully when prompted. But once again, running away form this would be weakness. He wanted to win. He's not sure exactly what though, especially with his brain going through sensory overload. [break][break]

A part of him is still trying to rationalize through this despite hands moving behind Onyx's head, more than happy to let him do as he pleased. He'd wanted this right? That's the whole point of hitting the club with his friends. They'd been hoeing it out all night and now- he was getting what he wanted. Just. With Onyx. Was that so bad? No. He slept with friends all the time. [break][break]

And yet this doesn't feel normal or the usual. He felt supercharged, desperate. A kiss was one thing, but Onyx's hand beginning to roam further and further lower down his back? Dangerous territory. Especially because of how impatient he'd become, egging on slow movements and practically forgetting they were in a club. Gods, he hoped Onyx didn't fake him out on this. He'd never live it down.


[break][break]

+ onyx straub | come get me pb im ready for jcink [break][break]

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

The growl that rips out of him is visceral. He's kissing Andres like he can burn away the taste and feeling of everyone who came before; he cants his hips forward, seeking the pressure, wanting to pull more noises out of Andres, wanting to make him cry for a different reason.

He slides his hand into his skirt, following the line of his stupidly small costume, trailing fingers feather light over his skin. The cheap fabric is rough against the back of his hand and he wonders how in god's name Andres has been wearing it for so long with nothing underneath.

Is he going to do this right here, right now, in this shady corner of this shitty club?

Yes. Yes, he sure as hell is.

andres buenaventura
take her away, kimbo
costume

☉