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]

"My turn," Sherlock murmurs and sprinkles a dash of salt on Jim's neck. He gives him a slice of lime and takes the shot.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim pouts - he was going to feed it to him - but it's only for show. He bites on the wedge, keeping eye contact all the time, one arm tight around Sherlock's waist and the other hand now tangled in his hair.

They're drawing attention, again. This isn't a gay bar. And for once, Jim doesn't even notice - not that he'd care anyway, but it's a lowering of defences that's not like him.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock closes his eyes as he licks the salt from Jim's neck. He slams down the shot and sucks the lime juice from Jim's mouth.

He doesn't notice if they're drawing attention--or if he does, he doesn't care. It's Mardi Gras. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

[just_cant_lose]

Both his arms go around Sherlock's neck, and he presses against him all the way up. God, he is so ready to get rid of this paint. But he still doesn't kiss him. Not yet.

'Another?'

He is so ready for a lot of things, but the night is young.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock wraps himself around Jim's waist. "Dancing," he reminds Jim. "I want to dance with you."

Gay bar or not.

[just_cant_lose]

'Dancing.'

There's music. There's music everywhere during Mardi Gras so they can stay here, they can move, go back outside, whatever. Jim just smiles, and sways against him.

'It's about time.'

They plan and plan, and whenever they get close it just seems to turn into shagging. The horror.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock steers Jim away from the bar and out onto what looks like a dance floor. It's crowded and hot, and may send Sherlock back out onto the street in a few minutes -- but for now there's only Jim and bluesy music, and he's good.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim makes no pretence at proper dancing - partly because there's no room, and partly because he's now got his hand down the back of Sherlock's trousers. And it is very hot, and very crowded, and it reminds him of the dance floor in Berlin only, weirdly, people keep their hands to themselves more here.

'Told you you'd be all right shirtless. You never listen to me.'

[mightbeagoodone]

"I believe it was Gypsy Rose Lee who said that a stocking-clad leg is always sexier than a bare one," Sherlock replies demurely.

[just_cant_lose]

'By that rationale, neither of us would ever be fully naked again.'

And he is very much against that plan.

'But if you take to wearing stockings, we're going to have to have a serious conversation.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock laughs. "You'd love to see me in garters and stockings."

Not that he's offering. He just has a sense about these things.

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh my God, don't even joke about it.'

He screws his face up.

'Drag isn't my thing, darling. Though you do have the legs for it.'

...

...now he thinks about it, there could be some appeal. But only a little bit. There are other things he likes much better.

[mightbeagoodone]

"I'm not offering full-brown drag," Sherlock says. "Just a little bit here and there."

[just_cant_lose]

'Are you seriously offering it?'

Jim may have even stopped dancing in the surprise of this.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock shrugs and looks away a moment. "I've worn all sorts of things for a cases. I could wear anything you like, for fun."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim puts his hand to his jaw, and draws his head back around.

'Anything at all?'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock studies his face.

"Anything you ask for."

[just_cant_lose]

He starts to grin. But all he says - in a deceptively mild tone - is, 'you might regret saying that one day, darling.'

Jim is creative, and Sherlock is pretty. The two could equal a monster.

'SO you'll wear other clothes if I ask, but won't remove your shirt? You're contrary.'

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock drapes his arms over Jim's shoulders and leans their foreheads together. "I won't regret it if makes you happy.

"And you knew I'm contrary. That's why you love me."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's eyes close, and he brushes their lips together in the barest touch. Nowhere near a proper kiss.

'It's only part of why I love you.'

Part of it is how Sherlock goes out of his way to make him happy. That's very nice.

'Is that why you said yes to the collar? You think that's what I want?'

[mightbeagoodone]

"Yes," Sherlock says simply. "I like giving you want you want."

[just_cant_lose]

'As long as we're clear-'

And this is important.

'-I like the aesthetic. I don't want a sub.'

He hasn't gone through life waiting for Sherlock to be ready, only to have him not be an equal. He will get off on Sherlock looking like sex on legs wearing the thing, and playing the part for a few hours, but it is not what he wants all the time.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock pouts. "You mean you don't want want me in a corset and heels?"

He kisses Jim again, lightly. "I don't want a dom. But I like pleasing you, and if that means putting on a costume or a persona for a bit, I'll do it. So far, it's turned out to be fun."

[just_cant_lose]

'Heels, no. Corset, no. Underwear, though...'

He might have an idea or two. His finger tugs gently at the collar.

'There's a lot of things I could do with this, but we'd need to talk about them first, probably.'

Most people do, though he's already told Sherlock that's not his favourite way of doing things.

'Not here, though. It can wait. Just look pretty for a while, and do as you're told.'

He will not ask for anything drastic.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Yes, master," Sherlock murmurs, looking properly submissive and meek.