deercountry | Birthday Party

Birthday Party

Who: Paul Atreides and all his CR
What: Throwing everyone’s favorite Duke a surprise birthday party
When: Forwarded dated to April 1st
Where: Bone House in Gaze

Content Warnings: Drinking, underage drinking, drugs (both fictional and not), drawings of space worms, skeletons, will add further warnings if necessary

When you arrive at the house in Gaze, (affectionately known as Bone House), a skeleton will open the door and offer to take your coat if you have one. No need to take your shoes off or anything!

The large house has been decorated with black streamers and confetti. In the entryway and hung on the railing to the second floor that overlooks the entrance to the great room are large banners that say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL” (though one looks like it used to say “Jaune” but was just painted over? Whatever).

In the Living Room, there is a large board and various colored markers for people to write messages to the birthday boy. There is also a table full of bottled water and various couches, chairs, and beanbags to collapse into if the party gets to be too much and one needs a quiet place to rest or a place to chill if you’ve imbibed too much… well, whatever you had.

It is also where all the food and drinks are.

There’s an extremely large charcuterie board with the usual meats, cheeses, and olives as well as an extremely eccentric collection of snacks ranging from individual sized Cheez-it bags, to humungous bags of Doritos and salty chips, as well as nearly every kind of Oreo one can imagine.

There are also various cakes, all angel food. Some are misshapen, some have an attempt at being frosted with whipped cream and fruit, one even says “Happy Birthday Ka-” before that was hastily covered with a bunch of strawberries jammed really close together.

At the island, a skeleton is playing bartender. Surprisingly, it can seem to take and understand individual orders, but there’s always a constant flow of tequila shots being made and sent out to the great hall to be served by another skeleton.

And, no, of course it’s not going to check your age to see if you’re legal. It’s a skeleton. Why would it care?

The Great Hall is the center of activity and where everyone is encouraged to mingle and have fun. There is a skeleton on the grand piano in the corner gleefully playing piano covers of the hits from the Shrek Soundtrack with the occasional cover of “DaRude’s Sandstorm” when it has another one to help out.

In another corner, on huge piece of paper that spans nearly 6ft wide and 8ft tall is drawing of an Arrakis sandworm and it’s giant maw. The game is Pin the Tooth on the Sandworm and it’s… very easy… because the worm maw is most of the board. Even if the skeleton spins you as you’re blindfolded, it’s pretty hard to lose. If you manage to do it, which is likely, the skeleton running the game will award you a tequila shot! If you lose, the skeletons will award you a tequila shot (but it’s rail).

(It’s a drinking game, isn’t the point to drink?)

There’s also a table that has many candelabras on it, numbering up to seventeen. They’re still lit and burning even though there is a sign that says “make a wish!” even though it almost looks like a shrine for the dead.

…It’s maybe clear that the concept of “birthday candles” was greatly misunderstood.

There is also a skeleton dealing out small doses of “Spice”, a psychoactive drug straight outta the Duneverse. However, you must check in with this Skeleton to get a dose. There will be no “permanently melting your brain with ancestral memories” at this party!

Teacher’s/God’s/Jod’s/The Emperor Undying’s study, adjacent to the main hall, is closed and locked. Though, the lock is fairly easy to break if someone really wanted to get in. There’s not even skeletons guarding.

That said, many things are warded with eerie runes of blood and bone.

So, fuck around and find out.

The upstairs is generally off limits. Party goers can climb up the stairs, and it’s encouraged if they want to look over the Great Room from above, but all of the bedrooms are carefully guarded by more skeletons who will SCREAM VERY LOUDLY if you try to enter and will become hostile if done by force.

Of course, this won’t happen if you are with someone who lives in the house.

Enjoy the party! Mingle away!

((ooc: if you have any questions or anything, please hit me up at

worldtype)) or via PM.))

Birthday Board | At the Party | The Morning After | IC Party Games | Spice Dealer

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[ oh, well— he’s cornered himself now, hasn’t he? what keeps him alive is the laugh, sensing that all honor hasn’t been lost yet— and tries his best to come up with a new answer to that one without taking too long. ah, here’s their warm little corner! ]

It feels like . . . Time stops, up there. [ that’s actually true; when he’s reached his apex, when he hovers those few seconds in the air— it feels like a lifetime; and just like that, it’s gone. ] I could see everything that’s going on. I guess— both?

[ does that make sense? he’s starting to babble, ]

‘Cause it takes effort to jump all of that.

[As far as L is concerned, honor never lived here, in fact never needed to. They're playing chicken now, like they did that day with the puns, seeing who can be more clever and more audacious.

Of course, it would be him. Aya isn't the only one who really must win, is compelled and driven to at least try in the spirit of competition.]

I know you've never shied away from a challenge. I didn't know that you prefer to look down at what's going on, instead of up.

[ this is also a challenge of wits. by default, shōyō stands his ground! of course! he’s holding his crush’s hand! his brain is buzzing all over the place! he can’t think straight!

and damn, is lazarus amazing at pushing people into a corner. in a good way, this was. he could feel his heart just skip around his chest and keep skipping even as his lips thinned from the curve of his smile. ]

It’s more, like, [ shōyō brings his hand high, at least another head above him where lazarus was, ] eye to eye.

[ a self diss. a self inflicted joke about his height. clearly he has other options to stay ahead—?!

(not many, but this was the fun of it. lazarus may even realise that shōyō’s palm is a little hotter). ]

[Indeed one of L's most vivid and striking personality traits is his ability to do just that. He's better at hounding people, snapping at their ankles, forcing them to the edges of a threatening walled chamber with its walls closing in.

And yet, he's holding his crush's hand.]

More like...?

[He prompts, coaxing and goading more of the answer with eyes that meet Shoyo's. It's not so difficult; he's not so much taller, and his palm is not so much cooler.]

More like, [ he repeats lazarus and trails off without finishing, like a buffoon but with the addition of becoming entranced. he can feel his heart pound in his ears and intensify the heat on his face through color— rusty as warmblood was. “eye to eye” was the thought, the action following it was shōyō stretching himself enough to do just that. his chin marked lazarus’ collarbone, by comparison, so if he just lifted his head, then . . .

his heart wasn’t skipping anymore, it was rattling. he kept his eyes pinned and his thought process to find the words, any words he could use, at all, have short circuited. something in him, that gut instinct he always heard when he moved, spoke up. do it. you’re flirting. you’re holding hands. you like him. he probably likes you too. duh. just do it—

without allowing doubt to trickle through and much like the quick second decisions he had to take above the net, he makes this one: shōyō tilts his head sideways just enough to keep his nose from bumping in the way, in milliseconds he can feel his gut turn to ice and rise with burning heat up to his throat with this anticipation for what came next, and fluidly, all at once with what he was feeling, leans in— ]

[The mood doesn't change so much as progress, moving along as calmly and pleasantly as a country carriage-ride on a warm spring day. For a few seconds there's nothing threatening at all on their radar, and just enough alcohol in both their systems to put mischief in their smiles and eyes.

He leans closer, keenly interested in what Shōyō's about to say next after working up to it so dramatically, and perhaps he should have expected it. Perhaps it was only inevitable, but he still freezes for a moment in shock when their lips touch.

In fairness, every part of him but his lips freeze, because they fit together well with Shōyō's. His eyes start to close, but a more rational part of him is awkwardly truncating it before the rest of him can unfreeze and feel the radiating spread of heat and excitement. He's turning away, taking a step back, and knowing immediately that it will be seen as a rejection.

He regrets it, but what else can he do when they're here, in the home of one who would call himself God, and L is committed to pulling him down from his self-constructed holy cross that Paul is all too eager to kneel at?]

[ more than a thousand things fling through his head when the second of a lifetime hardly makes it past being a second. the fire in his chest swells one moment and is put out with a bucket of cold water the next. the riveting moxie that came from the thrill is cut short by rejection. lazarus turns away, removes a step, and from there the shock in shōyō’s eyes only retaliates once his gears begin to turn again.

his fingers slip away from the other’s, and he could feel a nauseating knot lump his throat and make his face go wine colored. what happened? what did he do wrong? did he completely misread the situation? was that really the wrong move to make? did he blow it? was he getting led on? was he—

there’re too many questions and too much awkwardness to face now. above a rejection, he’s possibly lost a friend now, too. was that a risk worth taking? he couldn’t have known, and neither could shōyō had predicted something entirely rational when he ran on pure emotion. what felt right. it felt right, but the response didn’t hold the same sentiment.

embarrassed, above all, shōyō runs a hand down his face and holds just a bit to his mouth, where his lips still felt the lingering phantom touch that he knows he won’t be feeling again soon. augh, damn it. he’s so stupid. he’s so nervous. his gut hurts. it churns in a way that tells him he’s going to feel sick, the same way he did when he saw a damn corpse for the first time. ]

Um, [ dry and cracked, his voice was, but he hangs there; shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his balance to the base of both heels. ] okay.

[ he didn’t know what else to say, but was at least preparing to make his leave. ]

Sorry.

[It's the age-old question; is it a worse feeling for the blade to go in, or to be extracted? L's brow knits and his shoulders curl inward, because he's at a crossroads here, can see many futures laid out in front of him.

The good one is a result of choosing the selfless choice. One wound, the knife going in, and Shōyō would feel hurt and embarrassed for a little while. Probably, he'd find a real and true love in a month or two, and become as happy as he deserves to be. He fights the urge to tell this to Shōyō, practically promise it if only he wouldn't look so red-faced and sick.

Because Shōyō didn't blow it. He did nothing wrong, and yet this is something L can't do. It would only be selfish, endlessly and monstrously selfish, and Shōyō is not the shadows and daggers sort, he would not see it coming when it hurt both of them even worse, in the end.

A man who was whole and honorable would make the right decision and let Shōyō's heart break and heal. L, still a child in so many ways, chooses selfishness, and it only takes a single moment to the thousands it will feel like for the blade to, eventually, be extracted.

He reaches for Shōyō's hand, grasping it more tightly.]

No... don't be, that's not what I meant. I'm just... shy about it being in public.

[It tracks seamlessly with everything about him. Far more canny and suspicious people than Shōyō would believe it easily.]

I'll make it up to you when we find a room.

[When, not if, and he pulls Shōyō after him toward the stairs.

The skeletons there standing guard are currently preoccupied with some ruckus or distraction down the hall. Only one seems to notice them, staring long and vacantly in L's directly as he trails along the line of doors, picking one at random and trying the knob.

It opens, and he pulls Shōyō with him.

The room is decorated in a way that is simultaneously gothic and minimalist, expensive-looking sans ornamentation or knick-knacks. The bed is huge and spacious and neatly-made, and some abandoned notes and tea mugs are strewn about. Moonlight streams and pools through the window of a spacious bathroom, just off the bedroom.]

Edited 2022-04-12 02:01 (UTC)

—W-when we. Huh?

[ shōyō’s mouth gapes open, surprised already as is when the space in his empty hand had been filled, now, imagine the rest— he was still trying to catch up on the fact that. he double misinterpreted? he was just shy? just shy.

just shy.

by the time shōyō was beginning to realize it hadn’t been the absolute end of anything, his face was burning like a fire and he could feel it. he was getting pulled along and he follows, follows blindly and still, for one last time, thinking: just shy? finding room. finding privacy. emotionally profit—?!

he too, sees the skeleton sparing a glance. a twitching smile becomes a stupid, stupid grin on the red head’s face as he’s pulled and skips in after his suitor (and not without giving a quick, stupid wave at the skeleton; he’s not thinking, no he isn’t— too excited. oh, this was bad. they were in someone else’s room, surely they’re not allowed up here. technically. just for a few seconds.

they were adults. but he felt so damn much like a kid right now, feeling his heart rattle around in his chest as he giddily tries to straighten his back to make the best use of his height. ]

So, um. [ — here they are, with shōyō’s rusty red cheeks practically giving off fumes, with the way they stung from smiling so much. ] Just shy?

[ a little beacon of hope in all his unnecessary worrying, it seems. from one hand, shōyō took the other, slender in his palms and protected by his fingers. ]

[It's a room, and it's someone else's. L genuinely doesn't know whose, but there's a lot of space, and they're alone, which is what matters, out of view of prying eyes.

Now that they're here, he realizes that he doesn't exactly know what to do with this space, that bed, the adoring eyes of the young man he pulled into this room with the intention to make it right, soothe the mixed signals and the hurt with something he wants just as much, but has never done in his life.

He clears his throat, the color high and bright along his cheekbones in the dim light.]

...yes. I didn't expect to be kissed on the lips for the first time tonight. It caught me off guard, but I thought that... since I like you, and due to the fact that your skin's scent is pleasant to me and suggests a pheromone compatibility... we could try it again?

[ there is a brief instant where shōyō draws a blank, but so very short lived— because lazarus and his unparalleled oddities is what elicits an airy chuckle and eyes that were shining like the stars outside. there was a lot he wanted to say at once and couldn’t figure out where as he sucked his lower lip behind his teeth and allows his pinkies to simply curl. ]

Like horoscopes. [ that’s all he got from “compatibility”, but it’s more than enough in this case! he probably smells of sunscreen, fresh showers and dmso. ] Thought you didn’t, for a second, like that kinda like, since I’ve liked you for a while and, [ you know what? he’s possibly speaking too much during a time that needs little of it. time to leave the nerves aside now when there was nothing to actually worry about. this was his first too. not the first of the night, the first of his ever that wasn’t because a volleyball came at high speeds for his face.

which is why, with a sharp inhale and a preparatory puff of his chest yet again, shōyō dips his head forward, slightly to the side, and lands a peck on lazarus’ lips that lingers and has some trouble actually puckering up— his own lips are too stretched, a result of smiling to much and showing his teeth for a kiss, no matter how much he tried to cover them up. ]

[L nods, the tension sitting on his shoulders as Shōyō fumbles out endearingly awkward words of acquiescence. He's actually surprised to hear that Shōyō's been fond of him, "that kind of like", for some time, but in fairness to L, he's never been in this situation, dating or kissing or anything remotely like it unless monitoring Light and Misa's dates counted (it didn't.)

In fairness to Shōyō, the volleyball player knows hardly anything of substance about L. Only his fake name, the assumption that he's French based on that name, his food preferences and a few other tidbits dropped and scattered occasionally. Clearly, this "like" is based on some successful lie he's managed to present, but tonight he's being selfish. Tonight he's not going to dwell too much on just how cruel it is, to both of them, to pretend that Shōyō likes a good person.

He cranes his neck, having to bend down slightly for their mouths to align and meet. Shōyō's sun-kissed cheek feels warm and smells sweet against the nudge of L's nose, and the tender give of lips isn't so unlike a peach's skin or the soft, sinking press of a freshly baked cinnamon roll. L's always savored both of those things, taking his time with the first nibble. Maybe he always knew that it was as close as he would come to kissing, and other sorts of pleasure that were just for other people, but not him, never him.

He realizes at a certain point that he's caught and been savoring Shōyō's upper lip, alone. Two rows of broadly-grinning teeth sit beneath it.

He improvises with his thrilled partner, who must be so happy because he's such a natural prodigy at kissing. Thus armed with knowledge of his instinctive prowess, L opts to snake the tip of his tongue out and hesitantly lick some of Shōyō's exposed teeth.]

Edited 2022-04-16 06:32 (UTC)

[ shōyō may be in grave danger of chuckling even more as his heart fluttered in his chest and his inexperience showed itself raw. he’s getting his teeth licked because he showed them in the first place, bringing with it both a fire that lit him up and a giddy rush he’d only ever closely experienced with a game. this wasn’t a game, though, it was quite serious, terribly important— fighting the urge to mutter an apology, shōyō breathes in through his nose and tends to relax. as he does, his lips do the same, coupled with a reach of his head up, he finally regains enough lip game to properly purse (or at least, better than smiling) and really dig one in.

nose to cheek, he pulls a breath in and holds for just a moment, scents the strawberry shampoo in messy bangs tempted to fall over lazarus’ eyes. the slight tang of alcohol and something very sweet extends from warm lips to the slight touch of gums, somewhere, he thought, where he may have bumped too far in whilst adjusting to the pull and lock. his hands steady him, and his mind remains ecstatic enough to continue without feeling like a complete greenhorn— you know, the one who spent his teenage years looking up “how do i spike with my eyes open” on google rather than “how do i kiss”.

it’s the sort of thing that comes as you do, he thinks. would it be alright to explore, in the process? to be frank, shōyō had been dying to, so his hands don’t stay with hands and arms for long at all. tentatively, as he pulls back just enough for a shallow, quick breath, he presses once more in full, hands cupping the sides of a slender face to make sure he could keep up with the angle and seek depth.

they were as warm as he thought they’d be. ]

[L was also focusing on other things in his teens. He did not attend parties like this, and did not think that kissing was in his near or distant future. Maybe he had his priorities straighter back then, maybe his lack of opportunities just made that easy. Either way, they're figuring it out together, and Shōyō is steadily proving that he can protect L's ego through the occasional stumble or faux pas. Wherever this takes them, that particular skill is bound to serve him well; for now, L remains blissfully aware that licking teeth isn't actually that hot.

Learning by doing is really the kind and quiet way to discover that through exploration. Their lips find each other again, they're back on track, and it turns out there's a kind of fluid rhythm to the art. Longer kisses, shorter ones, creating a kind of language of desire with no idiolect quite the same, subtle little signatures sprinkled throughout. Even in the dark, L's pretty sure he can remember what makes Shōyō's kissing unique, albeit with the flattering filter of having nothing at all to compare it to.

As Shōyō opts to deepen the kiss and cup the sides of his pale face (now flushed), L's hands wander, too, resting against Shoyo's firm and solid chest. He defaults so often to being cold and distant, and perhaps his impulse is to feel how fast Shōyō's heart is beating, to marvel at passion stirring blood up close. It's not like he's ever had an opportunity before, after all.

He can feel that much over the top of Shōyō's shirt, but as his lips move against the redhead's, his mind wanders to what it would feel like to slip his hands under it to glide along the story of dedication, training and hard work that Shōyō's toned torso tells. For all that their gifts are frequently at-odds, they share those most important qualities in common, and from the start, it's what allowed Shōyō to earn the respect of an often aloof and distant man.]

[ thumbs brushed aside rose hued cheeks as shōyō’s grip on lazarus’ face firms, and consequently, the kiss that came after the short fissure between them, for just a second for shōyō to inhale the next time he parted— just a single touch shaky from how fast his heart soars, hot, surely, and fast to return to him. when he breathed through his nose, the scent of skin and sweets filled him with delight. the taste. there was a press of tongue now, tentative but gradual in where he should be gliding. he can feel teeth, gums, but searches for tongue past his lips in kind.

touch is encouraging and sparks the saint old desire to be touched, and wanted, and reminds shōyō to multitask, to allow his attention to web into different spaces where and when he could. his chest is hard, but it beats lively; what may be seen as a bit of a puff to his breast was him ending the small space left between their torsos, pressing them just that much closer together. hip to hip. shōyō’s hand has found the back of lazarus’ neck and testing the skin, his hair, with his opposite fallen arm resting toward his waist—

has the pressure eased off lazarus’ craning neck? if he feels the release in strain, it’s because shōyō is standing on his toes. ]

[It's rare that L feels as though he's in sync with other human beings, but as Shōyō's lips meld increasingly fervently with his, and he wishes only to close the space between them ever more to satiate the kiss's hunger, he understands something.

He wants to take this all the way, skin and membrane and sighs all willing. With Shōyō straining toward him, he tugs any trance of the volleyball player's shirt from his waistband and slides his slender hands up under his shirt, palms pressed flush against warm pectorals as he leans deeper into the long, wonderful kiss.]

[ oh, hot. that’s hot. shōyō feels an irresistible fire that shoots up and burns between his hips like something still dull but tantalizing, continuous as bare hands meet bare chest beneath the fabric that hid it away. did he make a sound? surprised, but it was enjoyment, the edge of a sigh and close to something more. shōyō’s curling, welcoming hold travels lower as much as he squeezes and tips his head, anything to feel deeper as well as closer— the anchor of his hips, that was already more than he’d ever gone anywhere. would his fingers be alright at the skin of his waist? questioning was too late when they were already there, resting and rubbing their way across the line his pants made. maybe, but maybe—

shōyō breaks the kiss when he only then begins to feel the wear at his heels, from keeping propped for too long, and it’s there that he not only gathers his breath and rattling heart, but guides lazarus closer to something they could rest on: the bed. ]

Over, just— here.

[ he’s still mostly nose to nose, breathy and for once, hushed, but with a smile that threatened to expose his teeth again. he’s trying terribly to keep it under control as he sat, pressing his lips together and just waiting for the right angle to press another. ]

Edited 2022-04-24 03:33 (UTC)

[L hasn't had the time to disconnect and really evaluate everything he's feeling. It's a strange place to be, caught up in touch and sensation while nothing has been properly labeled and analyzed.

It's a kind of free fall. If he did stop to think about this, something would be loss, some momentum would grind to a halt and they'd smooth their hair and clothes, laugh awkwardly and rejoin the party because what else could they do, and that isn't what he wants.

He presses his hands forward against the other man's warm chest, not considering Shōyō's heels as the sturdiness of the wall at the redhead's back strikes a solid contrast to his own spindly insubstantiality. His head is hazy with an overload of intense but broad awareness; he can feel his blood, he can see bright shimmering pinpricks when he closes his eyes, Shōyō tastes sweet and human all at the same time. Everything his mind is overwhelmed to keep track of is something his body has pared down to simplicity and purpose, however, and at Shōyō's half-formed and nudging guidance, he's nodding before he's processed it.]

Right...!

[As though he'll have the first idea what to do when they're on it. There's possessing a mechanical knowledge of how that goes, while also being riddled with anxieties over what might stop or complicate it. At the heart of it is the simple fact that L has never done this before, which is unusual for a man in his mid-twenties. However natural it seems, the potential to screw it all up seems enormous and heavy as their legs bump irregularly against the edge of the mattress and L is half-climbing and half-falling gracelessly onto it, half-pulling and half-pushing Shōyō along with him and unintentionally digging into some part of his partner with his knee when he comes down half-on-top.

That felt like it probably hurt; he hopes that it didn't. Kisses will make it better, hopefully? He pushes their faces together again, a flourish to distract from an error, starting to undo the buttons of Shōyō's shirt. Shōyō had seemed to really like being touched underneath it, and ultimately it's just in the way, with that frame of mind.]

[ in truth: shōyō had been in abrupt danger of being kneed in the groin, and any amount of high speed contact in that direction surely makes him jolt his thighs together and instinctively try to protect himself. a direct hit—?! not direct, the full ache where his inner thigh had taken the brunt of the hit instead has him curling his back and swallowing a grunt. it’s alright, you know the story— and it doesn’t hurt half as much.

but it was dangerous, wasn’t it! in the end, shōyō can only laugh behind a tight-lipped grin, owwwwowowowah from a mouth that is being given apology attention right on the spot (and just for the record, it’s easy to tell that shōyō wasn’t down for the count, or else he wouldn’t be smiling).

he needs to get acclimated: there is another dude right on top of him and going for his shirt, they’ve just kissed a whole deal, now what? was it obvious? was it even for real? wow, it was. and since shōyō too, has never honed his attention to this, this is a mighty first that shows in how he directly and mentally fumbles around this step. a natural little voice in his head asked “should I really?” while the other begged not to stop and just do something back.

that something, while his back re-arches to nimble fingers, is, oh, dear— never mind, he had done ir seconds before actually realizing. both hands are very generously at lazarus and whatever backside it was that he could grab. crapcrapcrap was i too directtttt—?! ]

Is this, um, [ he’s trying to speak through his cheeks already turning just about purple, ] okay?

[Because there wasn't an outright and extreme reaction, L remains blithely unaware of the actual extent that his bony knee hurt. The sudden movement is a little startling, but... no, Shōyō's smiling, clearly this is going great.

He thinks he likes this angle even better for kissing. Gravity lends him more leverage and physical assertion; as light and bony as he is, he's able to effectively press the other young man into the mattress, and isn't it an unmistakable sign that there are no crossed lines or mixed signals, and that Shōyō's wanted this way very unambiguously?

Well... not quite. Though he's being pulled closer by the sparse flesh on his ass, to the point where he can feel crushing, aching heat and pressure between them, Shōyō's got a question for him. He pauses in the kisses he's pressing along Shōyō's neck, glancing up and blinking his wide dark eyes.]

Yes... I tried to make that clear. Are you worried about something?

[ It is at this point that the door bangs open.

God Himself stands in the doorway, looming tall in— well, not divine fury, but certainly divine exasperation. His hair is sticking up funny from how many times he's run a hand through it, tonight. A paper sandworm tooth is pinned to his lapel like a brooch. He's still holding a knockoff Smirnoff Ice. ]

Of course. [ This he murmurs to himself, wry. ] Would you boys mind relocating?

[ He makes eye contact with Lazarus, and there is not a speck of real surprise or apology in him. ]

[ oh my god. okay!!! hands off flat rump, shoyo practically holds them up like being caught by the police. his heart is in his throat, pounding away at his ears. he's shaking and bouncing right off that bed to get himself at attention. the wave of adrenaline comes so damn hard that he's trying to hide the smile between his teeth. embarrassed? absolutely. high off the rush? just a bit more than too meek.

now he's probably purple, or as close to purple as warmbloods could look. ]

Pff—Yessir.

[ he feels so absolutely giddy right now that he can't read the room, if there were to be any tense afterimages around this accidental encounter! fixing his shirt, he waits for lazarus. ]

—Sorry. Mhm.

[The door opens, and it's while L's cheeks are warm and his lips are dipping down to press against warm, tanned skin again, the better to chase away any timidness or concern that Shoyo might feel. He's so determined that he doesn't even feel a thrill or shock when it sounds like a third party has joined.

In fact, he begins to raise his voice, tetchy and annoyed.]

Occupied...

[Not that he should have to say it, because it should be obvious.

Then he sees who's at the door, and the flush sits high on his pale cheeks. For a moment he's just trying, in his own private world, to make sense of the fact that of all the rooms in the house, they could have chosen the Emperor's.

Half-straddling Shoyo, he's careful about the way he dismounts and the way he straightens to edge his way toward the door.]

Come on...

[He follows closely, just making sure that, as he goes, he is positioned at all times between Shoyo and the necromancer.]

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Birthday Party

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