tampered | LOG ; ongoing

When; Saturday afternoon, April 12th.
Rating; PG-13.
Characters; Naoto Fuyumine [

markedbyname]. Zell Dincht [

swallowmyseed].
Summary; Swing-cursed Zell invites Naoto over for dancing. And probably mockery.
Log;

As far as curses went, this definitely wasn't bad. Zell had been, so far, plagued by desires of the flesh, forced to share a bed with a stranger, and restricted to the confines to the tub when magically, blood had seeped out of every pore. And that was just for starters. Now, he was being followed by an invisible, excitable orchestra. But it could have been much worse.

It could have been the ticking.

Most days, there wasn't a single moment where Zell wasn't moving. That said, he was the very example of inhuman endurance. So dancing, twitching, and snapping for a few hours really hadn't bothered him much, especially considering how friggin' sweet the music was. A soundtrack to his everyday routine. Even taking a shit had been exciting, punctuated by foot-tapping and toilet seat boogie.

He knew he could dance. Being the beacon of sheer awesome that he was, he had an incredible sense of rhythm. He knew this! The fact that he'd been pretty much dragged into dancing classes in his youth (pre-Garden), courtesy of his mother, had only highlighted his inborn talent. Of course, this ego could've been the byproduct of a day filled with blaring horns and gin-soaked voices.

Ego or not, though, Zell was bound and determined to showcase his brilliance...and laugh at Naoto's clumsiness. Because surely, she wouldn't be able to keep up with the king of swing. At the sound of a knock at his door, Zell lowered the brim of his derby and strutted to the apartment entrance, snapping all the while, and threw the door open.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zell had already winced, awaiting a slap or a punch or whatever would have happened if he'd upskirted anyone at home. Yet no abuse seemed to be forthcoming. He opened his eyes a tad, but she wasn't angry. He relaxed - marginally - and tried to understand what had happened. It didn't compute.

"A-aren't you gonna...hit me or something?"

If he were anyone else, and this were a different situation, she'd have cut his fingers off. But it was the curse, the dancing, and her lack of foresight to wear shorts at fault here. "It's not like you lifted in on purpose." She paused, then lifted an eyebrow in amusement--he was good at amusing her at least. "Unless you want me to hit you."

[ooc; AIM? <3]

Yes, he was good at amusing her and he considered that one of his many talents. His shoulders eased at her brow-lift and he tried a half-cocked smile on for size.

"No way!"

He hadn't noticed, but during his awkward spell, the swing had died away. Instead of brass, there were guitars now, slow and earthy. It was just as loud as the swing had been, but considerably more sedate. He turned his head toward where he perceived the source of the noise to be.

"...Blues." Pause. "Still wanna dance?"

[ooc: Thinkin' The Black Keys for this, maybe.]

This music rang familiar. She was sure she'd heard something like it coming from Fuyumine's room once, but that could also be her imagination trying to construct memories she didn't have. Nevertheless, it was her type of music, and for some reason, her body was moving forward, stopping in front of him.

She grabbed one of his arms and settled it around her waist, then placed her hand in his free hand. "It seems like I do."

Well, that was forward. He allowed himself to be moved and switched around - she was in the driver's seat this time. Slow dancing had never been his forte. He was reminded of the SeeD graduation banquet; though he hadn't been quite as clumsy as Squall had been, he hadn't exactly pleased his partner. But then again, he hadn't been under the effect of a curse then. Just a lot of wine.

Zell pulled her close as their bodies would allow, swaying them along to the slow twang of the guitar. This was certainly no waltz.

His hand was warm on her back. The closeness made everything clearer, like she could feel every part of their bodies that touched--she'd never been this close to anyone on purpose, not for dancing, not for fighting, not anything.

The beginning was easy. Sway, move of her hips, knees bent lazily, a slow roll of her hips when the guitar hit a higher note.

He'd had no idea that he was capable of moving his hips like that. Nor did he realize that she could too. Was it just him or was his collar tight? Was this room just a little too hot? It'd been a few weeks since he'd been this close to a woman on purpose and it was the first time ever he'd been this close to Naoto. And that shouldn't have been such a big deal.

He swung her into a graceful spin before pulling her back again, rocking his hips against hers in tune to the beat. This was a bad idea and evidence of this would be showing up any minute.

By now she wasn't even thinking anymore, just dancing, feeling, observing with her sense of touch, listening to the music and letting the curse run its course--how much of this was the curse and how much was her?--turning when he spun her around, then falling back into his loose hold easily.

And it was the curse, she was sure, at fault for the way her left leg moved up, for rubbing the back of his calf with her booted heel, once, twice, three times.

It'd become too hard to differentiate curse from man; both were one at this point. His eyes were on hers, empty, really, save for the slight hunger that not even he knew. Well, yes, he knew it, but he was doing his best to ignore it, to be a gentleman. There was a reason why he didn't want to want her, but at this moment, with her heel running up his leg, he'd forgotten.

Grasping her leg, Zell sank her into a graceful dip as the song drew to a close. Erection? Check. But he didn't pull away immediately, instead watching her face and waiting for the inevitable self-conscious withdrawal.

She held his gaze as he dipped her low, her leg practically raised to his hip. A soft gasp slipped past her lips, and then another one when she was pulled back up. What am I doing? She held on only for a second or two more, while the song ended. It was enough time to realise that her breaths were coming out shallow and fast--exhaustion from dancing, it had to be that--and that he was pressed against her. And how.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she let go of his hand, pulling away quickly, but not brusquely. She was sure there was something to be said on occasions such as this one. It was just a physical reaction, it meant nothing. Right. So, avoiding the issue, and getting the hell out of there before she made it worse. "Well, then. Now you've proof that I can dance."

As soon as she let go, he straightened and turned his back to her, fussing about with the couch and organizing organized pillows. Panting. The bitch had been panting. It was over now and he was embarrassed, trying desperately to make himself look otherwise. If humiliation wasn't a libido killer, he wasn't sure what was. Later, he would self-examine as much as Zell was libel to (probably drink some and be very confused), but now his first concern was getting her out.

"Y-yeah, uh. You dance real good. But I have work in a little bit and I gotta get ready, so...." He wasn't that good of a liar, but he suspected Naoto would be too hasty to latch onto the excuse that she wouldn't notice.

"I'll be going now," she hastily finished for him. There was no need for further clarification, or even giving this situation any second thoughts. She had to leave, quick. And that was that.

Her feet carried her to the door, her hands opened it, her mouth uttered the "See you" and then she pulled the door shut closed behind her.

LOG ; ongoing

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WRAP IT UP!

WHO'RE YOU CALLING BITCH =O