InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "touch grass"

Miniver Cheevy (miniver) wrote in utr_logs,
@ 2008-07-30 00:15:00

Entry tags:

miniver cheevy, remy lebeau

Who: Miniver Cheevy and Remy LeBeau
What: ...doin' stuff.
Where: Mini-Mordhaus, London
When: Nightish
Warnings/Rating: Knowing these two... proooobably sex, likely drugs, conceivably angst, hypothetically naughty language.

When Remy arrived, he would be met by a roadie or two and conducted to the library -- it's still under construction, as is much of the ever-expanding fortress of a castle of a home, but it's already huge, and this is where Miniver would be found.

The roadie leaves Remy at the door. Inside, a place even more mazelike than Sable's little burrow of a shop is sprawled, and somewhere inside, someone humming...

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	gambitlebeau 2008-07-29 11:40 pm UTC (link)
	The humming gave it away, and Remy made his way through the tall shelves, shuffling his deck of cards, before flipping one out and having it hit Miniver on the shoulder. He was standing a fair distance away, leaned against a bookcase with a smile that quite nearly had its own life. "Seems like you been doin' good f'y'self." His voice was low -- second nature in a library. (Reply to this)

	miniver 2008-07-30 12:24 am UTC (link)
	Miniver jumps as the card hits him. He picks it up, blinking, then turns towards Remy's voice with a smile. "Well enough," he says. "Considering I don't actually pay for this or anywhere else I live. You got in okay?" (Reply to this)

	gambitlebeau 2008-07-30 12:33 am UTC (link)
	"Could ask what's wit' t'masks, but m'not gunna argue wit' rock stars." He poured himself into a seat nearby, wearing his duster over a relaxed set of clothes that looked far too pricey on a man who obviously preferred to dress down. "Been quite a while. What's it been... fi'teen?" (Reply to this)

	miniver 2008-07-30 12:37 am UTC (link)
	"Masks... on the roadies, y'mean? I have no idea." Miniver puts back the book he was looking at and sprawls his upper body over the table like a stretching cat. "Fifteen... Must be something like that now. Hey. Y'look good for a geezer." (Reply to this)

gambitlebeau
2008-07-30 12:49 am UTC (link)

The stretch was smirked at, and he ruffled Miniver's hair, just because he could.
"Long story, t'at one, f'true. Somet'in' 'bout Gypsy magic an' a little more 'bout my genetics. Guess you got some juju on you, too, since you ain't lookin' too much like an old rock star should be lookin'." He slid his deck of cards into an inner pocket, plucking out a pack of cigarettes in the same movement.
"So t'e whole band's gotten here, oui? Wonder how dem boys feel 'bout it, las' time somet'in' like t'is happen to 'em, t'ey holed up in t'e house an' didn't move 'til Miss Delirium came an' brought 'em back."

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miniver
2008-07-30 12:56 am UTC (link)

Miniver grins at the hair-ruffling.

"Did they? Eh... they been doin' okay here. It's not too different from our world, and not like they left behind much. Cash they got, Mordhaus is being rebuilt, and they hated their fans so that's no great loss. They get out and about here. I'm trying to get Pickles to come see my family more..."

He scoots back off the table to get a better look at Remy. "So. Guess you've found a place and everything?"

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	gambitlebeau 2008-07-30 12:59 am UTC (link)
	"Oui, not too far from here." He said with an easy smile, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Too big a place. Gunna sell it, get somethin' in The City. Not t'at London's so bad, jus' a swamp rat at heart. Can't take t'at outta me." He looked to Miniver. "You still ramblin' on, Miniver? Home's wherever you want it to be?" (Reply to this)

miniver
2008-07-30 01:04 am UTC (link)

"Well... yeah. I dunno why. Guess I grew myself some kinda gypsy heart along the way."

He plops into a chair and lights a cigarette of his own.

"There's just folks I like living with and places I like being. I can't figure out how to NOT call them all home. I end up there without thinking. But hey, man, they feed me and give me nice warm places to sleep and sometimes people to sleep with so..." He shrugs.

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gambitlebeau
2008-07-30 01:09 am UTC (link)

"Man of easy pleasure, can't argue t'at." Nodded Remy. He seemed vaguely disinterested in the place around him, and for how relaxed he looked, he was like a cat, poised to move at any moment. He took a long, thoughtful drag of his cigarette and fixed his gaze on the poet once more. "You said you met t'pirates. Good men. Bill's kind. Jack's..." He made a movement with his hand, from his forehead, off into the air. "Good heart, tho'. Bot' of 'em really got t'e best interest f'everyone at heart. S'somet'in' you don't see too much, non."

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	miniver 2008-07-30 01:16 am UTC (link)
	Miniver pouts a bit. "I miss them. I dunno what they're doing, but it feels weird to not be able to go home, even though I got other places..." He shrugs and rubs his arm and looks around. "Hey. Let's get outta here. Somewhere more comfortable, yeah?" (Reply to this)

	gambitlebeau 2008-07-30 01:34 am UTC (link)
	He nodded, "Where to?" He slid up to a stand and looked down at Miniver with a bit of a chuckle. "F'got t'height diff'rence. Least y'taller t'en Logan, homme. Makes it easier t'see eye t'eye." He joked, nodding towards the exit, putting his cigarette between his pouty lips. "You said t'guys are busy? You t'ink an ol' friend might be able t'drop by wit'out too much trouble?" (Reply to this)

miniver
2008-07-30 01:42 am UTC (link)

"I dunno. They told ME to stay away, but... maybe it's different for someone who ain't a pet." He doesn't mean that bitterly, really. At least not towards Bill and Jack. He still feels like he's ended up a disappointment to them -- and it's a little unsettling to not be able to go somewhere and be with people he's known longer than anywhere or anyone else in this world.

Miniver wanders towards the door, out to the hallway, and pauses to consider where to go. "I dunno if Pickles is practicing or out or whatever... probably be glad to see you anyway. Wanna go to our room?"

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gambitlebeau
2008-07-30 01:47 am UTC (link)

"Dun t'ink it got anyt'in' to do wit' you, in t'at case, mon ami. T'ey get up to some t'ings an' need time. Private men like t'stay private. An' if it's somet'in' t'ey dun t'ink you can handle, s'prolly f'yo'own good." He murmured, then his smile went slightly tilted at the suggestion. "S'up t'you."

He would follow the poet anywhere, just then. He needed something more than just polite company.

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	miniver 2008-07-30 01:51 am UTC (link)
	"Yeah. Well." Miniver isn't the greatest at dispelling his own self-doubts. He walks close to Remy, leading him to the room -- or rather, rooms -- he shares with his husband. Pickles isn't there, but Remy might catch a glimpse of the shy Shadow Tinman crouching just about an inch under the bed near one corner, watching them. (Reply to this)

	gambitlebeau 2008-07-30 01:54 am UTC (link)
	He nodded to the Shadow in greeting, just letting it know he saw it, before putting his hand between Miniver's shoulders. "You been lonely, seems like." He mentioned. "Can tell. You need t'talk or somet'in'?" (Reply to this)

	miniver 2008-07-30 01:58 am UTC (link)
	The touch startles him -- but it isn't unwelcome. Just... unexpected. It feels like it's been a while since he was close to anyone but Pickles. "Hey, man... whatever, I dunno. I write stuff down, y'know? Not... not sure what I'd say, anyway..." He tilts his head and smiles at Remy. It's not a very sincere expression. "You want a drink or something?" (Reply to this)

gambitlebeau
2008-07-30 02:04 am UTC (link)

He slipped away, patting Miniver's shoulder as he walked to a chair, and slid into it like it was built just for him. "Not gun' turn one down." He looked up at the hippie with an expression that would be searching, if it weren't for his eyes being inverted colors from most other people -- like a negative of a photo -- and somehow more unreadable in that way.

"Homme, you ain't t'at mousey poet I knew back t'ere. Been too long."

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	miniver 2008-07-30 02:07 am UTC (link)
	Miniver drifts over to the bar he and Pickles have -- not large, but well-stocked, as befitting of a home shared by two alcoholics. "Whiskey, or somethin' else?" He doesn't answer the second half. He's not sure what to say to it. He might be blushing a little, behind the thick black curls. (Reply to this)

	gambitlebeau 2008-07-30 02:10 am UTC (link)
	He nodded, "Whiskey's good." He slid his fingers through his hair and took another drag of his cigarette. "Hard t't'ink t'at s'been so long, act'ally. What you been doin' to keep you busy? Can't imagine nervous bundle like you stayin' still f'long." (Reply to this)

miniver
2008-07-30 02:20 am UTC (link)

Miniver giggles. Nervously. He pours two glasses and brings Remy one. He doesn't actually sit anywhere, but kind of wanders about and leans against things. "Um. Well. I found a bunch of family I didn't know I had. Pulled some pranks here and there, y'know, but the big thing was I went on this sorta expedition with Bill and Jack. They took some ships with Anne Bonney captain of the other and went to look for someplace. I uh... kinda fuckin' failed at that one, ended up getting dumped back on shore like a wet rat and cooped up in here for a good long while." He sighs, fidgets, drinks. "Whatever. I dunno what I'm doing now. Pickles has been bugging me to get back into the music scene. I guess that'd be good, just..." Miniver shrugs and leans back against another large chair, arms half-crossed, kind of curled up into himself a bit. "I dunno. I get like... moods, whatever. Nevermind. What've you been doing the last fifteen years?"

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gambitlebeau
2008-07-30 02:30 am UTC (link)

He listened with interest, mentally tucking away all the information wherever he kept things for later use. He took a sip of the whiskey and sighed, "Well, been keepin' myself busy. Worked wit' a team of mutants like me f'a while, met a few good contacts. Long story short, business was good f'a while, but once y'get used to somet'in', you gotta move on. Went t'work wit' Jack an' Bill f'a while. Knew Anne, good lady. She came here too? S'a good t'ing all t'em are in one place, been worried 'bout alla t'em, for truth."

He stubbed out his cigarette and took another sip of whiskey, before making a subtle motion for Miniver to come closer, "Ain't prone t'bitin', 'less y'ask." He said with a lopsided smile.

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	miniver 2008-07-30 02:39 am UTC (link)
	That motion alone makes him unexpectedly shiver. He answers to it like one hypnotized, and shyly reaches to touch Remy's hair. (Reply to this)

gambitlebeau
2008-07-30 12:13 pm UTC (link)

Remy murmured and leaned into the touch, guiding Miniver with one arm at the poet's waist to come have a seat on his lap. He didn't speak, even when he set aside the whiskey to put a hand through the tangle of curls. Even if they had been away from each other for years, Miniver was some sort of familiarity, and he needed that the most just then.

Not to mention, but he'd been deprived of sex for a whole two days, and that just didn't sit well with him.

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	miniver 2008-07-30 10:47 pm UTC (link)
	Remy was never someone Miniver associated with familiarity -- but that doesn't matter to him right now. It's nice that he echoes of something long gone and makes it solid. Nice... but not necessary. What's necessary is his presence here, the touch, drawing him nearer, is encouragement enough. Miniver wraps an arm around Remy's shoulders and pulls him into a rough, desperate kiss. (Reply to this)

gambitlebeau
2008-07-31 12:08 am UTC (link)

Remy was taken by surprise for only a split second, but eased into the kiss with no issue. His lips crushed against the poet's, while his arm wrapped around Miniver's waist. He wasted no time whatsoever in bringing it from desperate to desirous. His fingers threaded through the tips of Miniver's hair, and he let out a slightly amused huff through his nose.

Once he disentangled himself from the kiss, he shrugged out of his coat, letting Miniver see that he was no longer the scrawny little swamp rat he'd known in the Bar. He'd worked out over the years, gained some tone to make what he considered a perfect body before actually live up to his expectations. His shirt was half undone already, all it needed was a little more coaxing to be off together.

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miniver
2008-07-31 12:26 am UTC (link)

Miniver leans back a moment, admiring. He traces a finger down Remy's chest and with one hand, goes to work on the rest of the buttons while squirming his other arm out of the ever-present trenchcoat. He switches hands half way and has the coat off by the time Remy's shirt is unbuttoned. It takes only another moment for him to strip off his own teeshirt and dive into another kiss.

Physically, Miniver is no Adonis. He's still small and wound tight as a spring, but his indoctrination into pirating toughened him up somewhat, and getting more or less regular meals foisted upon him in the various places he lives have given substance to sinew and made him noticably more proportionate. For what may be the first time in his life, he doesn't look like a sickly, alcoholic bookworm.

The poet purrs softly against Remy's lips and traces spirals with one fingernail down the back of his neck.

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gambitlebeau
2008-07-31 12:34 am UTC (link)

Remy was able to tell that there was a lot of tension in Miniver's muscles just by looking at him, and while he dove into another kiss, his fingers kneaded, almost like a cat's milk-treading, against Miniver's tense shoulders. His nimble fingers worked their way against the tightened muscles, easing away the ache, while he locked lips and touched tongues with the poet in his lap. He was used to tension now, knowing intimately every bundle of nerves and generally tight muscle. He'd since met a man wound tighter than Miniver could ever accomplish in his life, and it likely showed in his ability to find each muscle grouping and soften it, work it to submission, and then go to the next.

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miniver
2008-07-31 12:49 am UTC (link)

All of which is absolute BLISS to Miniver. He responds with gentle affection -- gentle, but purposeful, practiced, attentive, applying years of accumulated experience with husband and roadies and fans to the pleasant task of experimenting with fingers and tongue and more to discover what Remy responds to. He gets better the longer Remy works his magic on the poet's tense muscles. He presses nearer, straddling Remy's lap and ducking to attempt light nibbles to his shoulder as a show of approval while his hands drift lower.

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