I smell SEX and CANDY /Alex

[JONAH CETACEO]

Everything was sex, and nothing hurt.

He was born to be on the stage. It was where Jonie was suppose to be. He connected to the crowd, he showed his passion. He didn't have guilt about the drugs or the discomfort of the asthma. No resentment. No ugliness. There was no anger or sadness, only adrenaline and sweat. The heat of the light came on the stage, as he stood before a merciless crowd. They cheered, because the band looked legit enough. Jonie stood in front of the microphone, his aviators dimming the bright light. Tank tops were always a smart choice on stage, because of the heat. And, well, to be honest, his arms weren't to bad on the eyes. Jonie usually gave off that he was confident- which was true about a third of the time. But even when he didn't feel it, he still gave off that air. On the stage he felt sexy. Every man and woman in this place wanted to do wonderfully bad things to him, and he knew it.

At least, in his mind palace.

The music started. It was beginning. An orgasm of feelings and power. Into the microphone, he roared:

I got a dirty mind! I got filthy ways!
I'm tryna bathe my eyy in your milky way!
I'm a legend, I'm irreverent, I'll be reverend
I'll be so faaaaa-ar up
We dont give a FUCK!
Welcome to the danger zone,
Step into the fantasy,
You are not invited to the other side of sanity!
They're callin me an alien a big headed astronaut
Maybe its because yo boy
Daddy's get ass a lot!

The crowd roared. He didn't rap, because he couldn't rap. He belted it. He roared like a lion on the savannah, a tiger in the jungle, a jackle in the desert. It was animalistic, and hot, and it killed his throat. Instantly though, his voice became like honey as his lips barely brushed the grid pattern of the mic.

"You're so hypnotizing
Could you be the devil
Could you be an angel-

Your touch magnetizing
Feels like I am floating
Leaves my body glowing-

They say be afraid
You're not like the others
Futuristic lover
Different DNA
They don't understand yoooou...

Your from a whole other world
A different dimension
You open my eyes!
And I'm ready to go
Lead me into the LIGGGGHT!"

He was communicating with the audience. Each one of them was individually the lover he spoke of. His fingers frumped his hair, the hat falling to the floor, exposing the chestnut and untidy locks underneath. He was sweating, it glistened on his skin. In a breathy voice, he pleaded with his lover:

"Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me!
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison!

Take me, ta-ta-take me!
Wanna be a victim!
Ready for abduction!

Girl, you're an alien!
Your touch are foreign!
It's supernatural!
Extraterrestrial!

And then it switched off! With his smooth voice, his rich tones, his passion, he indulged the ego of his lover.

"Your so supersonic.
Wanna feel your powers-
Stun me with your lasers.
Your kiss is cosmic-
Every move is MAGIC!

Your from a whooole other world!
A different dimension,
You open my eyes!
And I'm ready to go-
Lead me into the liiiight!"

Again he went through the pleading chorus, and the crowd was loving it. He watched them dance, he watched them move. It was rhythmic in the strobe lights. It was almost like it was happening in choppy, stop, animation. Every flash, someone was in a different position. He closed his eyes, as the words flowed out like a mantra.

"I know a bar out in mars...
Where they driving spaceships instead of cars...
Cop a prada space suit about the stars...
Getting stupid hah straight up out the jars..."

And then the smooth mantra became the roar again! It held authority and lust, not love. Jealousy. Rage. Fucking.

Pockets on shrek, rockets on deck!
Tell me whats next? ALIEN SEX!!!
Imma disrobe you,
Then Imma probe you!
See I abducted you!
So I tell you what to do!

WHAT TO DO! WHAT TO DO!"

The chorus was back, but the plea was gone! It was smooth, but still had the power and authority.

"Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me!
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison!

Take me, ta-ta-take me!
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction!

Girl, you're an alien!
Your touch are foreign!
It's supernatural!
Extraterrestrial!!!

Girl, you're an alien!
Your touch are foreign!
It's supernatural!
Extraterrestrial!!!"

With a heavy pant, he gave a victorious grin as the applause rang. Sweating and a mess, he poured a bottle of water over his head, urging a few screams from the crowd. Honestly, he could have been butt ugly. Chicks dig band dicks. Unfortunately for them, they weren't Jonie's taste.

"Thank you. We're Modest Coalition, ya'll have a good night." And without a care in the world, he descended around the crowd, eyes scoping his surroundings.

outfit:: Sex Whale.
song:: Hooootness.

[ALEXANDER FORTESCUE]

Le Outfit

Fake IDs were so easy to make these days. Slipping into these clubs was almost too easy now. It used to be fun, forging or buying the little plastic cards, drawing himself up to unexpected height, back when he was fifteen, sixteen, back when it was a game to see how hard he could party before he got kicked out.

Of course, he hadn't had to go to clubs all the time back then. There had been parties, people he knew, acquaintances, and he was almost always invited (and if he wasn't, he went anyway, nobody cared). It wasn't like that now. He'd stopped that, when he'd been with Max and Aisha and Kiddo and Cassie in their makeshift little family unit. He'd had shit to do and people to see, things that didn't revolve around the next time he got high.

Weren't those the good times.

As it was, now he was sitting at the bar in some crowded club downing vodka by himself, too depressed and not drunk enough to dance. He watched the band in silence, the screeching of the crowd and the not-unpleasant din of the instruments riding hard on his eardrums.

He didn't care. So he went deaf. Whatever.

Also, judging by the shrieks, he was the only person in the whole crowd who didn't feel like whatshisname in the blue suspenders was singing directly to them.

He'd had a few girls flirt with him tonight, thought about taking one of them home, but he just ended up thinking about Max, how it wouldn't be Max, how Angel wasn't Max, how even Max wasn't Max anymore because his Max wasn't here.

Alex had lost the ability to care, and he'd lost the motivation to try. So the girls would see his pretty face and chat him up and imply he buy them a drink, and he would look at them once or twice and not say anything and eventually they'd find him rude and unyielding and wander off.

It wasn't that they weren't hot, either. He just couldn't find the energy to pursue them.

When the anger had faded, when the rage and pain and hurt had died down, it had given way to lethargy. He was consumed by an apathy that he drowned with the usual remedies -- drugs and booze.

The guy had a hot voice, Alex thought as he took a draw from his cigarette. The guy was hot, even. Kind of Max hot in his ruggedness, but distinctly not ratty, like Max had occasionally been. He reeked of Alex's type, and the blonde faintly remembered that very same singer in that very same band and the blue-haired girl up there with him saving him from getting his ass kicked a few weeks ago.

So it goes.

He let his eyes follow the singer as he stepped down from the stage and into the crowd, and then decided there was no fucking way he was ever going to get a piece of that, so why bother. He was too young for this club and he was more than a little bit drunk and he was probably dour-looking as hell. His head drifted slightly forward and fell into his hand, arm propping up his heavy mind with an elbow on the bar.

Really, he should just leave.

[JONAH CETACEO]

Jonie wasn't a creature of organization. At all. In fact, if not for Tanya, his apartment would have been one of those on the hoarding shows. Complete with hazmat. But, when it came to dating- or the bastardize version he practiced- he actually seemed to have a system. Not that he considered himself a player, because he generally went for people who didn't seem to want a relationship. And, to be honest, the only person he had been monogamous with was a girl, and that was only because he was terrified of his neighborhood finding out his personal inclinations. It wasn't that he was a bad guy, he just wasn't a very good one.

So, on nights when he was up and up- like tonight for instance- he'd find someone suiting his tastes. Good looking, not feminine, not judgey. Someone he could just have fun with, because that was all he really wanted. He'd talk to them. He'd have fun and dance with them. He'd bring them home with all the passions. They'd drink, they'd have sex, they'd rest for a bit, probably have a round two or three. Eventually the booze or the exhaustion would take them, and they'd sleep in the next day. In the depths of his slumber, Jonie became an affection monster who snuggled and cuddled and clung like wet clothes. When they woke up, they'd exchange casual small talk and numbers, dress to do the walk of shame, and perhaps meet up again. Generally, Jonie's flings didn't last more than two weeks, but they longer they lasted, the more possessive he'd get. Probably leading to the end of them hooking up.

Ah, that was life.

Jonie couldn't help it. He was a boy who wanted to be loved.

But not loved. That was too serious, Bro.

On the up and up, and cares tossed to the wind, he searched for someone to spend his evening with. Tool, too femme, straight, straight, straight, female, female, female, female, female (why did they travel in gaggles?), tool, notinamillionyears, hello Blondie. There was something... magnetic here. A familiar sadness in his body language, especially in contrast to the merriment around them. A smooth operator, Jonie came up behind the blond fellow, trying to see if they parked in the same alley. Seeing his drink, Jonie motioned for the bar tender to bring two over, smiling over at the guy.

"Don't look so blue, Blondie.You're getting a free drink." It was a joke, but Jonie would like to see him smile. It was striking how drastically a smile could change a face. And, well, lets be honest. This guy was pretty. Not just hot or good looking, but pretty. As the drinks came over, Jonie's eyes sparkled with a certain mischief. "If my radars off, let me know, but you wanna dance. You look like you could use some movement, Bro..."