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[dishonests]

☏ call. ≔ text. 💻 video. ✘ action.

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[dishonests]

[ the effect is instantaneous. at the sound of an unmistakable voice, cassidy's wrist jerks in freddie's hand. the shock shoots down his arm, his eyes wide. freddie's face become recognizable, too, with the help of the right light and the transformative power of his grin. even his grasp is familiar, taken with everything else. still, for a few disorienting seconds after the realization hits, cassidy wonders if it really is him. he's been deceived by a familiar face more than once, here.

but even when he's met people with nearly identical faces, the personalities are almost never the same. and freddie's personality is unmistakable. ]

Freddie-

[ but he's talking to his back, at that point. rather than follow him right away, cassidy stares after him, a small, incredulous smile at the corner of his lips, and then asks the bartender for two shots of rum. he downs both of them, one after the other. he doesn't know what he's walked into, but it's not the first time he's let the wind lead him, and it usually turns out all right in the end. the night is already turning out to be more interesting than he could've anticipated when he embarked on this little adventure.

with the rum warming his veins, he leaves the bar and braves the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor, scanning the crowd for a flash of gold. this particular game is familiar, too. sometimes he wonders if he'll ever stop chasing freddie.

as a career treasure hunter, it doesn't take him long to track down his prize. he's misled a couple times along the way, once by an actual woman with blonde hair ( he lingers with her a moment longer before melting back into the crowd ), but he finally traps the right wrist, spins the right person to face him.

he grins, shark-like, as someone behind him jostles him closer. he bends his head towards freddie's ear as he says, ] You make a fine woman, Freddie Baxter.

[ a strong, callused hand grabs freddie's ass. that, at least, feels very much the same. ]

[prettier]

I've made a few.

[The tug at Freddie's wrist catches him out of a spot between two other dancers. They hold it for him until he looks round, shaking his head slightly, then wind around each other, instead. There's no regret - he's had at least one of them at least once, anyway, though he's been easing off slightly on his policy of no repeats.

At least, in certain cases.

He lifts his arms as Cassidy leans in, lets his wrists link together around the pirate's neck so he has to stay close, or straighten up and pull Freddie against him. Either option works. The heels he has on go some way to matching their heights, for once, but not quite.]

Welcome to the day job, Captain. Some of us have them.

[Some people's day jobs run between 11pm and the smallest hours of the morning, where sexual harassment isn't so much a policy as an obligation. Freddie's working as he starts dancing with Cassidy, seeing what he'll do with modern rhythms, and Freddie's thigh pressed between his own.]

[dishonests]

[ there are no apologies for dragging freddie away from the other two, not even the hint of one. true to form, he's shameless about taking what he wants, and disinclined to part from it once he has it.

it's a bit odd to have freddie standing taller than usual, but not a bad odd. cassidy stays close as freddie's arms go around his neck, his hands resting on freddie's hips. dancing here is less complicated than in his time, although he would argue that what he's witnessed in clubs looks less like dancing and more like having sex with clothes on to music. it's for that reason that he finds it more intuitive than the roger de coverley.

that being said, he tends to keep his movements simple and follow the other person's lead. having had more to drink beforehand might have helped.

but it's just freddie, and cassidy laughs against his ear. ] Oh, is that the measure of it? You're being paid to dress-up like a doxy?

[ he shifts his hands to the small of freddie's back, ruing the dress for a moment when his fingers can't find bare skin. a streak of heat down the back of his spine answers the roll of his hips against the thigh between his. ]

Here I was thinking it were for your own amusement.

[prettier]

[Freddie moves differently, like this. You do, when heels tilt your centre of gravity to a new point - balance and gravity take new, more important roles. In Cassidy's arms Freddie's movement feels fluid, but perfectly controlled. It's not so different to how he fucks: instinct, finely honed.]

No idea what a doxy is, but I'm assuming someone else would slap you for it. It's a drag bar.

[He tilts his head back, smiling as another sequinned diva takes the stage to mime. Kylie. Shit, obviously, but even he's got to respect the classics.]

At least, one night a week.

[And no, not for Freddie's own entertainment, though he's grown more comfortable with playing dress ups. It's not his scene, but so few people see him like this anyway, and he does quite like watching how their faces change when they do.

Wouldn't do it in Manchester. Too much of an image to maintain, and boys who fuck boys fuck boys.

But Cassidy? Freddie happens to know he gets his blood up for both, and Freddie's enough of a confusion to appeal across more than one terrain.

Freddie's watching him closely as he curls fingers against his cheek, drags his thumb (nail short but red) across the full of his lips. He lifts his leg, just a fraction, and grins at the result.]

I think you might be enjoying it more.

[dishonests]

What do you be dragging?

[ clearly confused by the terminology, but also clearly caring little at the moment. whatever a drag bar is, it involves freddie looking like he does and really, that's all that matters.

and while it's true cassidy is an equal opportunist, his current interest may have less to do with his attraction to men and women than with his attraction to a certain individual. freddie could be wearing a ridiculous tartan suit or a burlap sack and cassidy would be just as eager to get him out of it every time.

the dress does have a special kind of appeal. it fits like a glove, for one thing. for another, it would provide easy access. as much as cassidy enjoys being completely naked with another person, there's something to be said for the feeling of a woman's skirts rucked around her hips, brushing his thighs. freddie's dress is obviously too short to have that effect ( women's skirts from the future are like that in general, he's found ), but there's merit in that, too.

he turns his head, chasing freddie's thumb as it passes over his lips and nipping at it. the rub of freddie's thigh makes him suck in a breath, and when he exhales it's colored with a laugh. his teeth graze the shell of freddie's ear. ]

I meant what I said. [ freddie makes a fine woman. he moves his hips to a dip in the beat and digs his fingers in above a hipbone. ] How much longer are you working?