ossie_oswald | Come Sail Away Inbox

"Hmmm," Ossie makes a show of pondering as he slips into his own seat.

"Impress me? Something flashy, I don't mind what it tastes like."

"Flashy, ehn? Hmm."

There's a few he has in mind, but he takes a moment to assess if he's got everything he needs for any of them. And indeed he does for one in particular.

"All right. Here we are."

And he goes. First he sets aside a tall glass to chill with ice water; then he goes about building the cocktail, with a bit of lemon juice, a bit of lime, simple syrup, gin, heavy cream--then there's shaking, and straining, the white of an egg added, and here he goes back to the shaking. ... And keeps shaking. "You know," he grunts, "you can get more or less the same effect doing this for just a minute or so instead of the traditional 12 if you do it right--hope you don't mind."

Then pour, then rest it for a minute, then add club soda, then orange flower water, and a straw stuck straight through the crown of foam over the whole thing.

"There." He smiles lightly, sliding it over to Ossie. "Ramos Gin Fizz. The thing to get you hated by bartenders if you ask for one."

Ossie claps his hands together in sheer delight, taking the drink graciously and giving it a taste before commenting.

"That is wonderfully impressive- the unofficial drink of New Orleans, if my memory serves me. I haven't had one of these since the last time I visited the Roosevelt in New York," he chimes, eagerly taking another sip.

"You are just full of surprises," and Ossie leans his elbow on the bar to prop his chin up with his fist, "I like that in a man."

“I had a lot of time to work on those surprises,” he hums, grinning as he puts a drink together for himself. Looks like something with cognac and brandy. “No better use for ‘em than something like this, ehn? Entertain some people, make them happy.”

"A noble pursuit," Ossie agrees, gently stirring his drink with his straw.

"Now what say you we skip any further pleasantries, finish these, and head back to mine, mm? You certainly don't need to win me over any further, I'm eager to get back to where we left off."

Phil grins. “Cutting to the chase this time. Good. I like that. Just don’t hurry the drink too fast; I worked hard on it.” But of course, he could always make him another.

Phil takes a deeper drink from his cocktail. No need to savor something he’s had a hundred times before, or to take it slow; it’ll be his only drink of the night.

He leans over the counter. “Mind if I taste my work?”

He’s not looking at the drink.

Ah, good, he's matching Ossie's pace like he's had practice at it. Ossie smirks and takes a hand off his drink, just barely tracing the bottom of Phil's chin with the nail of his pointer finger.

"I really must insist you do."

Oh, that barest scrape of the nail. Ossie is being very enticing tonight.

Phil brings up a hand to the man’s chin, just to bring him forward as he moves to close the rest of the distance between them. It’s all the familiar scents from last night, the flowers and the wood polish, on top of the sweet alcohol on his lips.

(Lucky bastard barely needs cologne, he thinks faintly.)

He doesn't bother wearing it when he can't smell better than people's memories.

But still, this is good, and it's nice to have Phil a bit more deliberately than just sloppily falling into each other. Don't get him wrong, he loves a drunken tryst, but there's no mistaking the desire here.

"How sharp are your talons presently, out of interest?" he asks, still so close to his lips that they share an atmosphere between them.

Edited 2024-02-17 01:17 (UTC)

"They'll turn your skin red, but I had to take them down from actually piercing anything, sorry. Personal reasons."

While he chases another kiss from Ossie, a hand comes around to rest against the man's neck. At the next break, the murmurs, "I hope that doesn't kill too much of the excitement."

"Not at all," Ossie purrs, "it was more wondering whether you might be able to satisfy a little peculiarity of mine. No matter- hardly like I need it."

His hand goes to Phil's at his neck, and he noticeably leans into the touch.

"To answer your question before you ask- I just have a proclivity towards having my clothes torn off, that's all."

Ah. He understands.

There's a disbelieving sort of laugh as a grin spreads on his face. "Oh, if that's the case--they may not pierce, but they'll give me plenty of grip to let my strength do the rest of the work." His voice goes low. "You've already felt the shape of those muscles."

"Not as well as I'd like yet," he grins, hands going to both of Phil's arms.

"You really are too generous. And I'm about to test your generosity further- carry me back to mine?"

Phil's grin widens into a devious little thing. "Hold onto your drink."

He untangles himself and steps around the bar. When he reaches Ossie, he wraps one arm beneath the man's shoulders, and oh-so tenderly slides the other hand beneath his knees. "Ready?" he asks, affording him a moment before--

"Hup!" Phil hauls Ossie up in his arms, and wastes no time in strutting down to the cabins.

Edited 2024-02-22 16:37 (UTC)

"You know a fellow could get used to this," Ossie noses into Phil's neck, not necessarily making it easy for him to carry Ossie back with how he starts kissing it. Ugh. Not only is Phil a catch as expected, he's exceeded Ossie's expectations. Propriety be damned he's telling Giles and Sharky about this.

Phil steals a few kisses from Ossie himself on the way, but for the most part he has to struggle to look where he's going while the man plants his lips and his teeth all over his neck, and to not make noise while they're still out in public. And pray very hard that Darcy nor Dimitri don't catch them like this.

It's too long of a walk for his taste. Phil lets Ossie unlock his room while still in his arms, and once they're inside, he sets him down on the bed and does a little bow. "Your quarters, Your Majesty."

Thankfully, they are entirely unintercepted.

Ossie lays back on the bed in a flattering way, batting his eyelashes up at Phil.

"So it is. An enterprising fellow inside my quarters might have a mind to do something about it, you know."

They’ve been on a roll, but seeing Ossie like this, sat on his bed, Phil is struck very, very suddenly by the reality of what they’re here for. What Ossie wants him to do. What Ossie wants. That he didn’t even schmooze or lie his way here, that this isn’t the person who will later want to marry him, that this is just… want, plainly, simply. No strings, no underhandedness, no underscoring of everlasting faith or whatever. He’s in someone else’s bed, and he’s just… welcome there for the night.

So don’t blame him if he’s suddenly looking at Ossie with equal parts awe and anxiety, or if his Mantle’s breeze picks up with a fresh chill.

But he shelves that for now (or tries to). Phil moves in, placing himself politely between the man’s legs, grinning as he hums, “Oh? Like what?”

Ossie's mantle fluxes in sympathy, the breeze carrying with it Pennsylvanian wildflowers and... a lower, musky note of roses, just faintly.

His foot goes gently to Phil's shoulder, and he looks up at Phil with half-lidded eyes.

"To start with, I do believe you promised me something back at the bar, my dear."

Phil exhales softly as the shoe comes up against him. He places a hand over top of it, then presses his lips down to kiss it through his fingers. His other hand peeks into Ossie's pant leg, his broad grasp sliding up the calf.

"I did, didn't I?" he hums as he pulls at the laces, hooking a talon into the lip and maneuvering it off of his foot; he leaves Ossie's ankle resting on his shoulder as he goes to take off the other. "Why don't you tell me more about that daydream of yours? Tell me aaall about it."

Ossie plays his part with a couple of pleased noises, shifting himself for comfort. The skin on his leg is as smooth as anywhere else, and it's a source of some irritation to Ossie that goosebumps don't raise even if he can feel they should.

"What's there to tell of it?" he asks, playing coy, "I'm a diverting little treat, and I figure I ought to be unwrapped like one. You know, put some work in for it. Show me you want this, I say."

Phil takes off his socks with a claw sliding against skin; not much to be had tearing those off, but after that, Phil lets Ossie's feet slide off of him as he advances in, lowering himself down.

"Maybe some of us have a bit of a weak imagination," he purrs as his chin slides over the bump of his crotch, hands moving across his hips. "Or would love to have a little tale spun of it."

He hooks his talons into his waistband alongside his teeth, still holding eye contact.

Ossie tilts his chin, as if considering for a moment whether or not he should.

"Once upon a time there was a handsome fellow who was treated like a fine bit of porcelain for, say, a hundred years, and the minute he got out," a bit of an inhale, just slightly, as Phil brushes past his crotch.

"He found that he enjoyed being handled far more roughly and with far less care taken towards his person. And that his brute of a partner hates clothes getting damaged, so he's forced to seek it elsewhere. Perhaps at the hands of a dashing, broad, weatherman, who is an insufferable tease."

There's a shift in Phil's posture. Good. Okay. Further elaboration and permission of what Ossie wants, what he's allowed to do here.

He lifts his head, and he spends a while looking thoughtful while his claws knead a bit on Ossie's stomach, winding his shirt out from being tucked into his pants. "Mmm," he says eventually. "I think I understand the moral of the story here."

... And then pauses again, rather more actually thoughtful rather than just for show. "Say--what're your thoughts on animal-looking people?"

Non-sequitur but okay, Ossie can go with it. God knows he wouldn't even be the first furry he's slept with on this cruise.

"I've had a good few affairs with them- Beasts were one of the types of Changeling we had back home. I once spent a lovely few days with a Bear who was a Bear. In short, positively. Why do you ask?"

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