shadows_have_offended | (no subject)

Entry tags:

guy burgess,
ig

(no subject)

They haven't spoken much since that night, though Neil's made the effort to check in when he can, and when Guy will make the effort to let him know that he's alive right back. Phones are, for neither of them, a forte. Often, Neil forgets that he even has his. But it's good for convenience, and so that he has a line to Guy on the chance that his friend wishes to reach out in the midst of all he's going through.

Neil thinks they're friends. He'd like that, at least. As he's told Guy, he doesn't have many, and he's lost quite a few.

But for the most part, he gives Guy his space. He remembers the trauma of his arrival, of adapting to Darrow, and in some ways, Neil thinks that learning his future might be for Guy what arriving in Darrow was for Neil. Twice over, now, since the arrival is itself a trauma. So he goes to work, he completes and sends off his application to college, and he does not think of the photographs hidden in his desk, sent to him by Guy. Now, knowing he's a spy, they make sense. He still doesn't know what to do with them, though.

He still doesn't know what to do about a lot of things.

The repetition of his life makes him a predictable creature. Neil's a little sad for that. Sometimes, he does think of their night out at the club; it was nice, until it went sour, just because it was something he didn't do very much of. He misses being rebellious and free.

Which is, maybe, how he ends up standing at the end of the block, looking at the lines that go into the clubs, trying to steel himself up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes," Neil says with a confidence that's only surface deep. He turns his head a little and brushes a kiss against Guy's forehead. It's more casual affection than deep intimacy; they're both from a time where that wasn't such a taboo thing, for men to touch. Darrow, for all that it speaks of kindness, has a lot of rules about casual touching that Neil has had to learn very quickly over the last year and a half.

Here, and with Guy, he doesn't feel like he needs to worry so much. "I like dancing with you. And I feel like I owe you a better night than last time, since I made such a mess of it."

Well, Guy was English. Men touching was something reserved for aesthetes and undergraduates. But it want frowned upon, as such. Not as much as it might have if it was known what Guy enjoyed doing to aesthetes and undergraduates.

"Are you going to keep blaming yourself for that? It gets old. And if we are to dance, it should be guilt-free."

"I am going to keep being sorry that you had to cut your night short, yes," Neil says, to say nothing of the rest of the night. He tries not to think about that. It's hardly a matter of blame, anyway, but he had gotten cross, and been the reason for Guy darting away from a good evening, and until Guy actually accepts an apology, Neil figures he ought to make up for it.

He considers another drink, just for the fortification, but thinks he ought to let this one settle a little first.

"Come on," he says with a smile, and tugs at Guy's sleeve.

If Neil wanted Guy to shut up and accept the apology, he would be disappointed. Guy had no intention of it.

He did gladly let himself be tugged onto the dance floor.

With a hand on Neil's hip, he danced, and decided he wouldn't impose anyone on the boy unless he clearly wanted to be imposed upon.

For a moment, Neil settles for the single hand. But in the crush of the crowd, the noise of the music around them, he presses back into Guy a little and grabs both his hands. It's about the familiarity, just then. About having someone he knows there with him. And, he hopes, that his enthusiasm for being out tonight is at least a little contagious.

He can't imagine how miserable Guy must be, with all the news from home. So if he can help with distraction, he's glad to.

His enthusiasm wasn't just contagious, but the way Neil was pressing against him, and moving his hips, it was hard not to physically react to it. Distraction was a good thing.

It was good to have just this for a while - the dancing, the touch, the music. It drowned out everything else.

He didn't stop himself then, from a kiss to Neil's neck.

When Neil says that teasing is fun, this is precisely what he means. He can feel Guy behind him, quick and close, and the warmth of his breath in that kiss. He lingers in it for a moment and then he puts a little bit of space between them. When he turns to face him, he's smiling, bright and brilliant.

He leans in and kisses Guy on the mouth, brief but intent. "I'm getting another drink. Want one?"

The kiss was too brief, but Guy appreciated the teasing of it and smiled. He nodded to the offer of a drink, and followed.

A pretty face looked at him and he winked, but put a hand on Neil's back not to loose track of him. He wasn't getting distracted tonight.

It's hardly Neil's intention to monopolize Guy all night, whether he finds the courage to wander off with someone else or not. But there is something about catching that exchange, of seeing someone glance over them and still retaining that attention, that thrills him for a moment.

At the bar, he orders for them--scotch for Guy, and a long island for himself this time. He reaches back for Guy and pulls him in close to him while they wait for their drinks, giving plenty of space for other people to squeeze up to the bar.

Guy was pulled in, and put his hands on Neil's hips. He didn't want to hoard the boy all night - he should be free to wander off with someone else - but if he was pulled in, he didn't mind taking a little advantage of that. "Is that just an excuse to get close to me?" He teased, lips practically against his ear.

"I don't think you mind," Neil teases right back, presses back with his hips a little bit. The dim of the bar covers up that he still blushes about certain things, like pressing his hips into the cradle of another man's hips at a bar. He's not ashamed of it, but it is a bold thing.

Guy's scotch comes up first, and Neil steals a sip off it.

Guy grinned and nipped at Neil's ear teasingly. "Not at all," he assured. He couldn't see in this light, but he imagined there was a blush on Neil's face.

Neil stealing a sip of his drink made him laugh. "Hey!" He pried the drink from Neil's hands. "Leave the grown-up drinks for the grown-ups."

It's such a small thing, that nip, but it shoots heat straight down Neil's back. He laughs, and hands over the drink as Guy takes it, smiling innocently. "I'm pretty sure my drink is plenty grown up, it's about six alcohols and a splash of cola."

His comes, and he drinks mightily for a moment. Then he half turns, looking over the crowd at the bar, and out on the dance floor. His free hand slides, casually, against Guy's hip.

Guy turned too, thus changing their places. Now he was cradled against Neil, and he leaned in a bit as he followed the young man's gaze. "Are we looking at anyone in particular?" He asked.

The position is an easy one, and Neil spoons against Guy comfortable, chin over his shoulder, close as he can get. He's blissfully half aroused--the teasing, being surrounded by a room of attractive men, being young and stupid and a little drunk--and he doesn't shy away from pressing into Guy like that.

"Maybe a couple people," he admits. "Nobody in particular yet."

Guy didn't mind the pressing at all, and comfortably eased against him, and yes, perhaps he did move his arse a little to rut against him. Just a little.

It did catch the attention of someone, who was looking at them from the dance floor. An appreciating glance, a little tug at the corners of the man's lips. Guy couldn't resist and put a hand through Neil's hair, almost demonstratively, and cocked his head with a little devilish grin.

Neil sees the man watching them, and when Guy reaches back for him, he tilts his head into the touch a little. He smiles, mouth brushing Guy's ear gently. "Do you think he's watching you, or me, or the both of us?"

Guy grinned. "Not sure," he said, thoughtfully, entirely comfortable leaning against Neil like this. "Want to ask him?" That would be a bit too much, perhaps, but Guy couldn't resist.

"I think he should have to come over, don't you?" Part of that is because of his own nerves, but it's also not wanting to leave the casual tangle they've gotten themselves into.

He presses a kiss to Guy's neck, above his collar.

Yes, dirty bugger, come over to a crowded bar and share you lurid fancies.

Oh, Guy did love this club, and Neil's wicked comment more so. He hummed to the kiss, but kept his eyes on the man. Then, with the slightest nod, motioned him to come over. Challenged him to, even.

Neil watches, almost shyly, from over Guy's shoulder. When the man starts to move toward them, he can feel the nerves build in his gut. He's not sure if he's prepared for having a stranger come over.

He drinks more of his drink and smiles when the man reaches them. He's handsome, a little taller than Neil, and he looks at them both appraisingly. Neil's pretty sure that means not just one or the other. Something in that look makes heat thrill in his belly. He doesn't know what to do with it.

Guy couldn't feel the whole range of Neil's emotions from where he stood against him, but feeling a little heat, and a little fidgeting, he could extrapolate most of it.

"See something you like?" He asked the man, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Perhaps he should have let Neil do the talking, but he told himself it was just a little nudge and Neil might appreciate it.

Edited 2018-11-29 19:35 (UTC)

The man smiles at the two of them. His voice carries over the noise of the club. "Do you come as a set then?"

Neil unwinds from Guy, but only a little bit. Not enough to dislodge the hand still in his hair, or to really let go of him, but enough to imply that they could come apart, if that was necessary.

The man looks them both over and orders something. His grin is lazy, handsome. "I'm into it."

Guy glanced over his shoulder to Neil to see if the young man was getting the implications here. His hand left Neil's hair and cupped his cheek for a moment. He was warm. It was a warm club, of course, or it might be a growing blush. He grinned either way. "He's into it, lovely. How about you?" He asked.

There's definitely a feverish blush on Neil's cheeks, but he's aware of that implication. For a moment, his voice fails him. When he finds it, it's wrapped in as much practiced schoolboy charm as he's got. And he has got an awful lot of it.

"I'll try about anything once," he says, and the man laughs brightly at it. He drinks his drink, and then nods his head to lead toward the back of the club.