Milli-timed to Tuesday the 28th - New Orleans Mardi Gras

[mogget_cat]

The bar room of Milliways is always full of sound - the clatter of dishes and clink of glasses, chairs being scooted back or further in, footsteps upon the floor, rats squeaking, the background murmur of conversations overlapping one another.

But tonight the main door to the bar opens to the mouth of an city alleyway, to a caucophony of noise and music, full of seething crowds and colorful parade floats, the smells of food and sweat and smoke and beer and those colorful fruity drinks sold in yard-long plastic glasses with umbrellas in them. Mardi Gras is in full swing and New Orleans has outdone itself this time.

Yrael enters, trailing laughter from a section of the crowd on the other side. His white hair is decorated with purple, gold and green feathers, his pale face partially hidden by a sharp, glittery cat mask of gold, behind which his green eyes are bright. Over his white shirt this evening he wears a shiny waistcoat of purple, gold, green, and black. It's clearly party time, big time, show time -

"And then some!" he grins, seeing Milliways. "Fat Tuesday is upon us, Milliways! Welcome to Mardi Gras! Come, dance, explore! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Yrael will make sure the door stays open for any party-goer who would like to partake in the joie de vivre, and the Bar can certainly provide a change of costume...



(ooc: The post will be open all weekend and into next week as needed! Usual party-thread guidelines apply! Tag in! Threadhop! Meet new people and get into trouble! :D Yrael will be around, but his mun will not be able to tag much until Monday evening. <333333)

Comments

[mightbeagoodone]

"I still want to dance, so I like the Jackson Square plan."

He eyes Jim, and chuckles. "I would venture not. The glittery bits are plastic, as I recall. Sugar would melt from body heat." He takes in the shops. "If there's a bakery we might find something..."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's response is lean up, and brush his mouth against Sherlock's exposed throat. Just light, because, paint. He stays there a while, lips barely touching his skin, sucking just a touch along the bone.

'Should let me put a collar on you,' he murmurs, and pulls his arms around him so they can lean together.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock shivers. "Still might."

His hand finds its way inside Jim's suit jacket, and his fingers lightly stroke Jim's waist, just above his waistband.

[just_cant_lose]

'I brought one with me.'

Just in case. It's that sort of day, to Jim's mind. He pushes up against him subtly, rubbing a little, enjoying the solidity of his body.

'Do you want to get high later?'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock shivers again, deeper, and murmurs, "Then I will."

He sighs, though, slowly. "You know the answer to that. The real question is, will I actually do it?"

[just_cant_lose]

'Of course. Stupid of me.'

Jim grins slowly, watching the crowd.

'You've done it with me before, and we're here for a few days. It's up to you, though.'

And then he watches Sherlock's eyes.

'I'll put it on you now, if you like.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock undoes a button on his shirt, baring his neck, and lowers his head. "All right."

[just_cant_lose]

...fuck, that's hot. Jim touches his neck, but then shakes his head.

'You need to get down on your knees, love.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock meets his gaze, and doesn't look away as he gets onto his knees.

(Someone is going to throw them off the float for this. He can feel it.)

[just_cant_lose]

Jim was not actually sure he was going to agree. But Jesus Christ, Sherlock never fails to step up when it counts. Or in this case, lower himself down.

Jim breathes out slowly. He holds eye contact all the way and when Sherlock's settled, touches his thumb along the ridge of cheekbone. His hand drops away afterwards and he stands square in front of him, just taking in the view. The whole city might as well not exist.

'You're beautiful' he murmurs, drawing a leather strap from his pocket, lightly studded. He steps in close to press it to his throat, giving him a moment to change his mind if he wants, before sliding fingers back into his hair, moving it out of the way so he can fasten the buckle.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock exhales shakily, watching him. All the noise and color and lights fade to nothing around this white-faced man in black.

"You make me beautiful."

[just_cant_lose]

He tilts his head, watching him as the leather slips through the metal, and catches. He makes sure it's not too tight, but not so loose that he won't feel it. Snug, not uncomfortable. He doesn't step back afterwards. He just strokes through his hair, and looks at him.

'Mine,' he says, after a while. And nods, once, before touching a finger to the lower edge of the collar and putting a little pressure on it.

'Up.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock rises, still gazing into Jim's eyes.

"Yours." Soft and low.

[just_cant_lose]

Dear God.

He catches his hand and locks their fingers, not moving, just looking at him, breathing with him. He can fell his pulse thudding in his palm, down his nerves, drumming into Sherlock's skin.

He tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck.

'Kiss.'

A quiet order, but an order nonetheless.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock smiles to himself. He cups the back of Jim's head in his palm and kisses his neck, soft, right over his pulse.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim smiles too, not to himself. He's aware, vaguely, that they're drawing attention but he couldn't give a damn. At least some of it's positive, and some of it probably isn't, but he's tuning it all out.

When Sherlock draws away he just puts his back against his chest, and leans against him again. Let them try to interfere with the two of them. Jim won't stand for it. He's not in the mood to indulge the world being stupid today.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock wraps an arm around him again, and exhales slowly as they relax against each other.

Jackson Square can't arrive soon enough. Being part of the parade, more or less, is fine, but he wants more now -- movement, music, Jim in his arms.

[just_cant_lose]

It beats walking through the melee, and Jim like being above it all. But it's slow too, and annoying, and the people close by are not interesting. Jim scans the shadows, looking down the side streets they pass, mentally cataloging everything. As soon as they enter Jackson Square he's had enough, and turns.

'Lead off. We'll get drinks.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock nods and takes Jim's hand again to weave their way off the float.

Someone throws beads at them from a balcony above--Sherlock catches them in one hand, barely looking, and tucks them in his pocket.

[just_cant_lose]

'And you didn't even have to flash your tits.'

Down on the street, it's louder than ever. Jim's upper lip lifts in a a silent snarl at someone who yells too close to him, and he stretches his neck out to calm the flash of anger. It passes soon enough, and there's a bar more or less right in front of them. It'll do. There's even blues.

'How far down does that glitter go? We could do body shots again.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"You're just that hot."

He smiles to himself again, and says, "Not as far as you're thinking. I mostly wanted it in my hair."

[just_cant_lose]

'Then undo your shirt. If I don't get your skin under my mouth in five minutes or less, someone's going to get hurt.'

The bartenders had better be on their game. He's not kidding around. He holds a fifty up so Sherlock can order the tequila, and waits with increasing impatience, his thumb hooked in the waistband of Sherlock's trousers.

But his attention is diverted by a young man, mid-twenties or so, who eases his way up next to him.

'Excuse me. Can I ask him a question, please?'

He nods towards Sherlock. Jim stifles a smile, and wonders how much reading Sherlock's done around the subject of collars. This guy looks hopeful though, so he's not going to shatter any illusions. It'll only cause a scene, and the clock's ticking off those five minutes.

'If you're quick.'

The man is quite plain, and quite clearly desperate to be someone's sub. Jim finds it pathetic, but whatever.

'Do you wear that all the time?' he says, like a strip of leather is the Holy Grail or something.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock undoes a few more buttons on his shirt, but not all the way--it would look ridiculous under the suit jacket.

He eyes the young man, and glances at Jim. He... has not read much on collars.

"Yes," he says. "Under my clothes."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim looks away so the obvious urge to grin is not evident. The guy nods eagerly, and seems to be at a loss to frame the questions he probably doesn't even know he wants to ask. While he's floundering, his eyes on the leather, Jim loses the hilarity.

'Go away,' he says - not even that unkindly - and the guy wilts and melts away at once, muttering thanks.

'You outrageous liar, Sherlock Holmes.'

He murmurs this, his hand slipping down to cup one arse cheek and squeeze.

'Drinks, darling.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Are you surprised?" he murmurs back. He turns to the bar and orders tequila, and pulls Jim's arm around his chest as they wait.

"I didn't know what to tell him, really."