CUDDLR - Made for him by Gaige :| The first couple hits will really confuse him, s o b

[drang]

Wolfgang Bogdanow* (28) German. Locksmith & boxman. LIKES: ladies, dudes, cheap beer, diamonds, explosions ( !!! ) Available for cuddles and "cuddles". Ask me about rocket launchers.

✓       ✕

FOR YES / A MATCH / A TICK
<span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#2EB82E;">✓</span>

FOR NO / A CROSS
<span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#CC0000;">✕</span>

*will occasionally be changed to "God", but only while messaging April, so if you catch him during one of those times, you can swipe God. ur welcome.

Comments

[drang]

[ ...that is adorable. that is so adorable, i hate you, justine.

anyway.

extremely german. yikes. it pulls a short laugh from him, mostly lost to the music, and he steps out in front of tris, jerking his head towards the throng of dancers, as they chat. ] Does he have sausage and beer coming out of his ass or something?

[ is that what extremely german is?? he's not sure he wants to meet this dude, germans are kind of pricks. anyway, screw that guy, his friend is wolfgang's friend now, sry bruh.

tilting his head towards his... hook up? date? whatever this is? tristan, he watches the reaction unfold, the little spark of awe and excitement and something like relief, turning that small smirk wolfgang had been wearing into a wider grin. cute. he likes it, though, that's good. awesome. ] Happy to be of service.

[ wolfgang's jacket is shrugged off as the pass a coat check somewhere (because eudio is nice like that), and after that, he's making his way into the dancing crowd, holding out a hand for tris to grab if he wants to, but otherwise just trying to keep an eye on him, to make sure he's not getting lost. at some point, once the dj's in sight, wolfgang's tossing a glance to her, that seems to have her looking up directly at him. PROBABLY JUST COINCIDENCE, NBD. ]

[saints]

{ Tristan doesn't even deign that with an answer, a laugh ringing out instead above the music as he shrugs his jacket off, giving but a shake of his head. No, not really, but the mental image is still funny (and one he'll relay back). The air is already warm, thick and Tristan doesn't need it as he checks it in alongside Wolfgang and breezes out with him onto the dance floor as well. He keeps watch of how he waves through people, slides into the center of the noise and lights and offers out a hand for him to take.

Don't mind if I do.

He reaches out and grabs it lightly, soaking up the pulse of the music and glancing only once at the DJ working her craft. Tris would almost call it magical--everything's perfect, right down to the balance of music and bass and beat singing out into the air, pulling his blood flush to the surface. ]

Thank you, [ he says, pulling in close from the crowd until they're flush. The floor is wholly packed and Tristan feels the heat from the lights, from the bodies moving around them, enough that his everything is ready for this, caught in an upsurge of adrenaline from the beat alone. Slinging an arm over Wolfgang's shoulder, he presses in close. ] I get a dance too, right?

[drang]

[ wolfgang can feel the cool press of tristan's rings against his skin, as he grabs his hand to let himself be tugged along, adrenaline and the kind of high that comes with getting lost in a crowd, feeling bass rocking the floor underfoot, and the touch of strangers brushing up against him as he moves through, to find an empty, relatively central place to stop.

and once he turns to face tris again, he's getting a chest full of tall, pretty, angel face boy. well, that's fine. wolfgang's hands naturally fall to his hips when an arm wraps over his shoulders, and smiles something sharp but excited. ]

You didn't think I called you here to make you dance alone, did you?

[ he definitely dances differently. not as bouncey as max, and not as much like a techno stripper. not like he's seeing jesus in the strobe lights or something. with wolfgang, it's more tactile, in a sense, more about touch and heat and movement, hands on tristan's hips, moving along with him to the thrum of the music, dragging up along his sides, over his back, feeling muscles tense and flex under the thin fabric of his shirt. ]

[saints]

Thought not.

[ He's a breath of fresh air, really--and Tristan dips close when Wolfgang slides hands along his hips, rakes fingers and palms up his sides enough to make him bow forward and with the slow motion of his hips to the music. Tristan presses along with him, fingers coming up to drag along the nape of Wolfgang's neck, passing through his hair and finding his smile broadening with every pass of their bodies.

No, he didn't expect to be made to dance alone.

There are no drugs in his system, not an iota of liquor, not even the high of sex prior to leaving the house. Tristan runs off his own high, a cliché high on life--music and sweat and bodies crowding around them, the feel of a stranger's bones fitting just right up against you because the music makes you one and the same. That's not to say he didn't enjoy that sort of thing, the intoxication and the ability to lose yourself in something else and be in it's hold but... he's capable of having a little fun without the help. He craves the beat surging through his veins as he throws his head back against the lights.

His teeth catch on his lip as he gets in close, enough to brush his temples against Wolfgang's briefly, eyes meeting his in the heat of it. There's something sharper there, darker, and Tristan likes flirting along the edges of it, rolling his hips forward that much more to grind against him boldly. ]