PARTY PARTY PARTY

[allie]

CHAT DEMANDS IMPROMPTU IC PARTY FOR THE WIN AND THE LULZ

LET'S GO!  JOIN IN!


At the end of the day, your character is led back to their room in the usual manner.  The nurse's hand reaches for the doorknob and the door swings open, then--

Poof!

Your character appears in a large ballroom with an exquisitely tiled floor and a large stone fountain in the center.  The centerpiece of the fountain, shaped like a large fish, continually emits a spray of glitter from its open mouth.  Several tables covered with crisp white tablecloths are positioned near the walls, and a jar of sharpie brand glitter-paint markers serves as a colorful centerpiece for each.

Against the far wall is a long, rectangular table, with two bowls of red punch.  A sign written in fancy calligraphy rests against each: Yes, and No.  In addition to the punch, there are bottles of every liquor imaginable, as well as several fine wines and packs of cigarettes (though partygoers will have to fight for a single lighter).

The bathroom to one side bears a creepy resemblance to the bathroom in a normal house, complete with a medicine cabinet worthy of a lonely 50's housewife.

On the other side are a series of doors leading to rooms.

CURRENT SUB-ROOMS:

Bathroom
Office
Room of Mystical Legal Aging
Vegas Hotel
Broom Closet
Walk-in Freezer

If your character goes into a room, please put that room in the subject line.  Rooms are lockable.  If you want a room that isn't listed, tell me and I'll give it to you.  XD




Since this is not an actual damned event and is not srs bzns, feel free to join in with a character that from another rp if you're a potential player.  If this is the case, instead of entering through a door in the institute, your player would enter through a random door in the RP from whence they came.  XD  EDIT:  Party is now also for trying out potential characters.

The YES punch smells and tastes alcoholic, and has the same effect as a normal spiked drink.  The NO punch smells and tastes like normal non-alcoholic party punch.  IF YOUR CHARACTER DRINKS THE NO PUNCH, IM ME AT QUANTIFYTHIS AND I WILL TELL YOU ITS EFFECT.

THE FIRST RULE OF THE PARTY IS DON'T BE LAME.  THE SECOND RULE OF THE PARTY IS SRSLY, DON'T BE LAME.


FORMER MUSIC
FORMER MUSIC
CURRENT MUSIC
(music will be updated when Allie is not lazy and people give requests)

SMALL PRINT:  Powers and weapons are go as long as whoever you're using them on is cool with it.  Continuity from previous damned parties is intact if you want it to be, or not intact if you don't want it to be.  Clothing is whatever your character wore in canon, whatever they should have worn in canon, whatever they wore in their rp game, or whatever isn't in the dryer.  This impromptu chat party will last until everyone gets bored.

prose plz

Comments

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Phoenix actually sunk back gratefully; the leaning would have been fine, but with all of the pushing and pulling it was starting to make his shoulder tired. Besides -- this finally freed up his hands again, which he considered nothing but a good thing. Not that he remembered this right away. In truth, he was so blissfully wrapped up in a kiss that had begun to creep from merely 'impassioned' toward the territory of 'lingual inspection of dental work,' that the broad, certain hands pressing him down did nothing but elicit a small shiver and noise of encouragement.

Only then did he realize that he had two hands again and reached between then, finding the broad, fabric-covered buttons of Miles' vest and working them open impatiently. He finished and ran his hands down the front of his shirt, along the dips and planes of his body finally palpable beneath the thin, warm cloth. Better. Much better.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Those light touches sent another jolt of electricity racing down Miles' body, and there was no stopping the shiver and moan that came with it. Even if he could have, he didn't want to stop that reaction - all he wanted at that moment was to encourage Phoenix to do that again and do it now.

It was in that spirit that he broke the kiss and pulled away, a teasing smile coming over his face. He slipped out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the desk. There. That was more like it.

That smile stayed fixed as he bent down again, this time only briefly kissing Phoenix's lips before moving down to his neck again.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Until the coat rustled into a heap off to one side, Phoenix hadn't really given that much thought to how big this desk was. But it was impressive. Broad. The thought occurred to him, somewhere the split-second of fine hair brushing his temple and breath on his neck, that it looked awfully sturdy, too.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa, back up, just what do you think you're suggest-ohgod. The upright and moral protests of his inner monologue stopped abruptly the second Miles' mouth went back to his neck, and he found himself half-gripping the backing of his vest in response, groaning and pressing the nails of bent fingers in long, straight lines down the black silk.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles looked up, feigning surprise at that reaction. "Like that, Wright?" He didn't have to ask, and he knew they both knew it. He just wanted to hear what the answer would be.

It was tempting to make him wait, hear that answer first, before doing anything else, but he decided against it. He moved a little further down, letting his tongue move in slow, deliberate circles.

If he was going to tease, after all, he might as well do it with both words and actions, right?

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Somewhere in the muddle of aroused, disorganized thoughts spinning in Phoenix's head was a very strong one regarding Edgeworth being a complete and utter bastard, which was less angry and more appreciative than he ever would have admitted to himself.

He bit back the better part of the noise that particular action elicited, burying the fingers of one hand in Miles' hair. "I think so," he managed, the necessary few panting breaths that preceded it ruining any attempt to be coy. "-but you know me. I could always use a bit more convincing."

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"Is that so?" Miles traced another, slower, circle, then pressed a kiss into its center. "If that's the case, I'll just have to try harder to convince you, won't I?" He scraped his teeth over the spot he had just kissed.

He moved a hand to Phoenix's shoulder, gripping it tightly, and then his eyes flew open, the realization of how easy it would be to climb up and on top of him slamming into his brain. What am I thinking? I can't do - well, no. I could do that, and I really want to, but there's only one way it could be taken, and...

It was still tempting, however; it was almost enough to be irresistible. Miles only just managed to hold himself back, instead focusing that energy on getting Phoenix to make that noise he'd only just stifled a moment earlier. He moved down and to the base of his neck, kissing hard and alternating between flickering the skin with his tongue and nipping it lightly.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

If he'd been tempted to forget, even for a second, that once Miles put his mind to something there was very little that could divert him, then that was a more than adequate reminder. Phoenix held back his voice until the urge to show his appreciation threatened to emerge as a writhe instead, finally gasping out a few short, unmistakably vocal pants.

Alright, consider me persuaded. Bang the gavel, call in the bailiff, I am one hundred percent guilty of liking that, he thought (more or less -- he couldn't say with certainty that his mental grammar was still that correct). But his reply to the as-yet unanswered question instead emerged as a simple, breathless, and entirely unintentionally eager 'yes'.

He felt his face flood crimson the moment the word escaped -- he wasn't so far gone as to not realize what that sounded like -- a second later trying to append a few more words quickly and with a minimal amount of stuttering. "Yeah. Convinced."

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles looked up the minute Phoenix answered. That one word, said the way it was, combined with the way Phoenix looked right now - hair falling out of its usual neat spikes, flushed, breathless - there weren't words for what it was doing to him. That cool facade was gone, and he knew his eyes were telegraphing the mix of heated emotions that replaced it.

The question of how far was too far popped back into his head, the one coherent thought in the sea of half-formed, muddled ones. He moved up, kissing his earlobe again, and whispered, "I - I can't promise I'll want to stop if I keep going. No. I know I won't want to."

He paused, face turning the color of his suit. He needed to wait and to ride out the sudden wave of nervousness, before speaking again. "What do you want me to do?" Congratulations. You're once again twenty-four going on sixteen.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

The second that question was voiced, Phoenix bit his tongue, waiting out the sudden feeling that he was going to laugh or moan or die or something that would come off far too strongly. The feeling settled back like a low tide and he exhaled with a shudder, making a futile attempt at actually thinking in a sober and patient manner. The way that Edgeworth had asked seemed to request deliberation (and he still wondered at it, how he could be so polite right now. half-dressed and pinning Phoenix to a stranger's desk, eyeing him in a way that, if looks could fuck, would have necessitated a cigarette by now -- and he still managed to pause, conscientiously asking opinions and warning of consequences).

He wasn't sure he even wanted to contemplate, not when every inch of him was clamoring something, anything, everything in reply. He craned his head to look at him from the corner of his eye, whispering his answer with a crooked quirk of his lips. "Do you want the list alphabetically, or chronologically?"

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Edgeworth smirked, then hummed. "I think I want it sorted by location," he said.

He didn't give Phoenix a chance to respond to that statement. He nipped at his ear one last time, then moved his free hand up to his shoulders, pushing his jacket off.

That done, he pulled away, looking at him again, all anticipation. He didn't stay away too long, though, leaning in and kissing him hard.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Before he was being kissed again there was barely time for Phoenix to wrestle his arms out of his sleeves, let alone consider an answer to that statement -- which was probably a good thing, as considering what his answer would have been would have had him blushing all over again. Getting free of the jacket was a relief, though; it was far too warm, even if its range of motion hadn't left something to be desired.

They were pressed too close to even consider getting at the rest of those buttons, so Phoenix contented himself to untuck Edgeworth's shirt with a few easy tugs, humming intent pleasure into the kiss. The warning -- promise? -- had left something pleased and jittery fluttering around his ribcage, but he wasn't half as nervous as he would have expected. He just felt coltish, eager and giddy. He felt certain, for the first time in almost six years, that this was bound to go well.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Edgeworth replied with a hum of his own, as much approval as it was pleasure. The evening was going a million times better than he could have anticipated, with the exception of the glitter fountain incident. He couldn't even be mad about that anymore, though, not when it had led to this.

He pulled away from the kiss a moment later, putting just enough distance between them so he could slide his hands down and begin to undo the rest of the buttons on Phoenix's shirt. He realized his hands were shaking, though whether it was out of a little nervousness or a lot of anticipation, he couldn't say.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There. That was more like it.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Phoenix had leaned back, as much to oblige Miles as to catch another admiring glimpse of him. He'd always seemed a little out of date, even as a boy -- a pace out of step with the forward march of time. But it fit him, especially at times like this, when he became a near-silent construct of lidded eyes and broad shoulders that somehow remained congruous with the finer lines of his face, when the controlled hazard of his hair and clothes gleamed monochrome. He'd been plucked from a hundred-year-old movie; women in bobbed hair and wide fur collars had swooned for him.

He glimpsed down at the unexpected tremble at the front of his shirt curiously -- his hands couldn't be shaking. There was a very short list of things that made Miles Edgeworth's hands shake, and even in his greatest fits of ego Phoenix had never placed himself on it. But they were, and at the sound of that deep, deliberate breath Phoenix couldn't help the quirk of a grin that tugged at his lips.

He reached for one of Miles' hands once he was finished, taking it in both of his own and unfastening the buttons at his cuff. He didn't let go once then, though, instead lifting it to his lips, kissing the side of a broad knuckle. "You know you're not defusing a bomb, right?" he asked with mock-concern, grin briefly turned teasing.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

If anyone else had cracked that joke, it would have led to Miles throwing his jacket back on and storming off in a huff. This wasn't anyone else, though, and while he was still a little self-conscious about the whole thing, it was still okay. If there hadn't been those moments of verbal sparring, after all, it wouldn't have been them.

He had half a mind to lean down and kiss that grin off his face, and would have if Phoenix wasn't holding his hand like that. That was more endearing that it had any right to be, just like all those moments of sentimentality he displayed were. How do you get snarky and sentimental at the same time? It shouldn't be possible.

He cocked his head to one side, looking down at Phoenix with false indignation and an overly exaggerated eyeroll. "I'm not? I never would have guessed that, Wright. Thank you for enlightening me."

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

"Always glad to help." He reached for the other wrist, undoing those buttons as well, then moving on to the rest of his shirt, doing his best to keep his own hands steady now that he'd gone ahead and shot his mouth off. It wasn't as easy as he would have thought, though.

He'd always expected that Edgeworth was in shape. Something in the way he moved just communicated it. But it took an act of supreme willpower not to whistle lowly as he ran his fingertips down his bared torso slowly, rising and falling with the warm, well-defined contours of muscle visible below the skin.

That does it. If I didn't remember this, I'm not going to remember anything.

He couldn't help it -- it was the last little detail he could take before everything hit him between the eyes. He couldn't be expected to help it, and even if he could've he wouldn't have wanted to. He pushed himself up on one hand, leaning in and kissing at a sharp, straight collarbone. "Unless there's another reason," he murmured against his skin, taking a deep breath as he felt his pulse pick up again, needing to force himself to finish the thought. Because damn it, the man was brilliant and gorgeous and he not only put up with him but apparently wanted him and he smelled good and it was practically a miracle he could keep himself from clinging to him and pulling off the rest of his clothes right there and then.

The second half of the thought emerged nearly as a whisper. "You want me to keep going, right?"

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles blinked, not sure he had heard that question correctly. What do you mean, do I want you to keep going? I thought I'd made that perfectly clear the moment I asked you if you wanted me to keep going.

He didn't answer right away, at least not verbally. Instead, he untucked Phoenix's shirt, undoing the last button holding the front open, and followed that by unbuttoning his cuffs. He leaned back just a little, wanting to look at him.

There hadn't really been a moment he could pinpoint as being the one where he realized how he felt about Phoenix. He wasn't even sure whether the physical or intellectual attraction had come first, but right now it was the former that was coming out in spades, propelling him forward.

"Wri - no, Phoenix. If I can be so blunt as to say this..." He paused, pushing an unruly lock of hair out of his eyes. "I've wanted this from the moment I saw you back here, and seeing you looking the way you do right now...well, I'd be crazy to tell you I wanted you to stop."

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

There wasn't a moment of conscious realization that accompanied the slight relaxation Phoenix felt creep through him, because he hadn't even acknowledged the worry that statement reassured. But he knew that decision wouldn't have been crazy -- Edgeworth could have been perfectly sane and still decided not to chase this appearance, the one that meant a thousand different things than shapeless gray and slippers did. It might even have been saner to forget it, to step back and remember that a suit and proper shoes implied personal and professional relationships that might not have accommodated this, careers on two continents that could not be compromised without being altered. It was more presentable, but Phoenix knew too well that the way he was attired might not have been more attractive.

He leaned in again, if only to hide the inevitably sentimental smile he knew that statement had brought on, and murmured a 'good.' He tugged at the back of Miles' shirt, skewing it before kissing the bare skin of his shoulder, higher this time. "Now, I'm still working on my list," he murmured, almost conversationally, lips brushing his skin. He inched closer to his neck, kissed harder, feeling his thumb push the fabric of the shirt down another inch and settle atop the solid rise of his belt. The tone of his voice as he went on was nearly indescribable, question and suggestion and flirtation at once. "So what's on yours."

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Just like that, there was a palpable shift in the room's energy - not that it was a bad thing. It wasn't, not at all. Miles laughed, low and seductive.

"Oh, I could tell you, and in a few different levels of detail." There was a hitch in his breath, and he had to suppress the shiver running down his spine. He couldn't resist the urge to reach up and tangle his fingers in Phoenix's dark hair again, and did so before he continued speaking.

"But why should I? Other than the fact that you want to know so very badly, of course. I just don't know if that's a good enough reason." Miles' lips quirked upward into another cocky smirk. "I suppose you'll just have to convince me."

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Phoenix gave a deceptively thoughtful hum, lips curling upward in a knowing smirk. Time for his counterargument, then. He barely moved his head, a deliberate show of compliance to the hands weaved possessively into his hair, turning his face just enough to whisper in Miles' ear.

"Fine," he replied too calmly, remembering the previous reaction and running his hands down Miles' sides slowly as he spoke, palms pressing just enough to friction-warm the drag of skin on skin. They continued their meandering way in along the top edge of his belt, until his fingertips wormed behind his buckle without warning and tugged it a sharp few centimeters closer, voice at his ear turned grinning. "Though, I think I've figured out a few of the basics by myself."

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles closed his eyes, arching up into that touch just a little and humming approval. He opened his mouth to retort - 'you'll have to do more than just that' - and then Phoenix did.

Miles couldn't suppress the sharp breath he took, nor could he stop the pleased sound that came along with it. He did manage to hold himself back from trying to get a little more friction out of it, though only just. It was almost embarrassing how suddenly overeager he felt, and it was only by a miracle that he was able to keep from blushing.

"Maybe so." There was a ragged edge to that whispered reply.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

There was a part of Phoenix that wanted to get right down to business, to stop the teasing and the repartee and do everything he could think of to Miles, give him fifteen minutes, and do it one more time for good measure. The part that wanted nothing more than to please him.

He privately acknowledged this as the hopelessly infatuated part. The stupid-sweater-wearing part. And the stupid-sweater-wearing part was just going to have to wait on the suit-wearing part, the part that wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off of Miles' face, to turn conditions and commands into pleas. Then he'd do his best to ruin his ability to walk straight.

"'Maybe'?" he parroted, tone purely rhetorical. The hand on the belt buckle remained still, thumb alone pressing too-briefly straight down along the length of his fly, then back up. "I have evidence for something a little more definitive than a 'maybe'." He was talking his time with his words the way he only did when he knew he was winning an argument, voice moving at an smug, inexorable lope.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles bit his lip, trying and failing to stifle the noise that one - all too brief, all too light - noise elicited. It would be so easy to just push Phoenix back onto the desk, pull off the rest of his clothing, and have his way with him right then and there. It was tempting to do exactly that.

The only thing that kept him from doing so was that same knowledge of how easy it was. It was so easy as to be expected. When he did put a stop to that teasing, Edgeworth wanted it to happen at a moment that wouldn't be expected at all. Besides, there was something to be said for drawing things out a little more.

"If you have that evidence, then show it to me."

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Somewhere in that demand was a request -- it was invisible and nearly inaudible, but it was as close as Phoenix was going to get. For now, he told himself, occupying himself with the curve where Miles' neck met his shoulder as he set to work unthreading his belt, then navigating the fly beneath it. He hoped that the slowness could be attributed to something intentional, just one more deliberately teasing gesture.

It was intentional, but only because the last thing he wanted to do was start fumbling with buttons and zippers and metal tongues like a teenager confronted with a bra clasp for the first time. It had been more than a little while since the last time he'd done this kind of thing, and his hands' memory seemed even worse than his brain's. Fingertips slid behind the fabric of trousers and for a terrible moment turned blindly against alien textures and forms -- smooth, curved, warm, filmy. Then something in his mind turned and clicked into place, and silk came into focus, followed shortly by firm along a glancing, elusive outline beneath.

He turned his hand toward the suggestion and let his fingers curl around the ready certainty of Miles' shaft, in the same motion stoking slowly over the smooth fabric. He tried not to let the way the pit of his stomach prickled and dropped show, but he heard more than felt as his next breath escaped halting and shuddering, only slowly sneaking past the thousand shivers gathering and sparking in him like lightning in the belly of a cloud.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

In that moment, the world seemed to come to a sudden stop and then start spinning even faster on its axis. Miles shuddered pleasure, unable to keep from arching his back and rocking his hips forward, murmuring "Oh, God, yes." That smirk was gone, replaced by a half-smile on his lips. His face was flushed, and his eyes were half-lidded and clouded with lust.

It took a long minute and more than a few ragged breaths for him to remember the fact he could be doing something with his hands other than weaving them tightly into Phoenix's hair. Once he remembered that, he didn't waste any time in extricating them.

Miles danced his fingers over the curve of Phoenix's jaw, then ran them slowly down his neck before moving down to his chest. Movements that were already slow became glacial as he ran his hands across his skin, mapping out the lines and dips of his muscles. He could feel Phoenix shiver, feel the sharp staccato rhythm of his heartbeat. He wanted to remember that, and more importantly, not miss any of those small details.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

In the space of that minute, Phoenix managed a few things. The first, and probably most significant, was getting over the heady, aroused disbelief that they were actually doing this in the first place. Not to disparage anything that had already occurred, but there was something about sticking your hand down someone's pants that really drove home the reality of a situation.

The second, close on the heels of the first, was getting a better idea of exactly what he was doing. This included, by necessity, a few moments of unsubtle groping that were probably only helped by the appreciative hum that accompanied them. That felt good, he acknowledged, too turned-on to think in more than vague generalities. Too good to keep letting clothing get in the way of, certainly. He thumbed down the waistband of his boxers, once he was sure that they'd cleared tugging the whole mass of clothing down and trusting the weight of the belt to drop it the rest of the way.

He leaned into Miles' touch with a low noise of encouragement, turning his head and kissing the inside of his arm. The motion was distracted, though, nearly instinctual, the greater part of his focus going to directing his own hands, thumb kneading and pulling at the thin skin still half-covering his head, other hand following the pebbly central seam curving up from his sac. There was no cautiousness in the exploration, though, no unaccustomed lightness or shrinking, only the deliberation of hands making sure not to miss a single inch.