insertmeathere | Dancing on the Meatship? Sounds like Risky Business to me.

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Dancing on the Meatship? Sounds like Risky Business to me.

The Sensoriums are empty. Everyone's working, you should be nice and alone. You grin to yourself, conjuring a hardwood floor, and a set of stairs.

You grab an object. Could be a wand, a sword, a feather duster, a candlestick. You don't give a shit. You don a loose shirt, a nice set of underwear, and some socks (for those of you who can wear socks).

Finally, you push everything on the stereo all the way to the max. As the piano music starts up, you slide into the doorway.

You're dancing. You're grooving. Hell, you might even be singing.

But part-way into your routine, you realize the horrible truth.

You're not alone. Someone is watching you.

Who is it? What will you do?

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It was a long, flowy blue tunic, actually. And only one sock, on the flesh and blood foot, and actually that was less a sock and more scrap fabric he wrapped his foot in. He liked to make what clothes he could get as much like home as possible.

Since his metal foot actually had pretty good traction, it made skidding especially difficult and an affair mostly conducted with the socked foot, so he nearly crashed into the room, but quickly recovered. It was kind of like watching some kind of giant, ungraceful, flesh-colored jumping spider launch itself into something and miss. "Spindly" was the only word you could really use to describe the sight. Really, really spindly. Just...everything was spindly.

"Just take those old records off the shelf--I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself..."

And yes, he was singing. In a very nasally voice that made it clear he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. Even if the tune could hop into the bucket for him, he probably couldn't lift the bucket.

How he reacted to being caught would depend on who it was that caught him, and he possibly wouldn't even notice it at first since his eyes were closed in concentration. So until the intruder spoke up or made a noise or he happened to look up, the booty-shaking would continue.

Edited 2010-09-30 00:42 (UTC)

"Oh hey," Zetta said, in that entirely-too-calm voice used by people whose brains have been scarred beyond human comprehension. "Someone has replaced this sensorium with hell. I will have my minion change the sign."

Listen very closely and you can actually hear cracks creeping across his sanity.

Hiccup jumped and then skittered behind the wall he'd slid out from, peeking out with red cheeks.

"I, uh, thought I'd locked the door."

"....I wish you had."

"You can leave anytime now. Talking book guy."

"Yyyyyeaaaah. I'll just... do that," the book replied in a very distant tone, still sort of staring. The minion practically hauled him out by force, one eyelid still twitching.

Look at that. A dancing fishbone.

She's just gonna stand over here, out of the way and out of his line of sight, totally not smirking and not extremely amused by this. Not at all.

"Today's music ain't got the same soul / I like that old time rock 'n' roll!"

His bony butt wiggled away to the music, and he pranced his way around the room. Unf, he was a musical sex god, here have a pelvic thrust, imaginary audience of screaming girls. Oh yeah. You liked that.

He jumped onto a chair and tripped off it again, nearly falling to the floor, missing a few lines, and then recovered and went back to shaking his hips, only now he'd danced nearer to the door and well, his line of sight had changed.

"Still like that old time rock'n' roll / that kind of music just soothes the soul--" Wait, was that? Oh gods. Oh gods no. "--Astrid!"

That door was locked! He knew he locked it.

Cheeks flushing bright red, he scrambled back behind the wall, nearly tripping yet again as he hid.

He didn't even say anything to her, just hid. As if he was thinking that maybe if he hid, she'd just go away.

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This beats the humiliation she suffered at Dragon Training. No contest.

She slides to the nearest chair, making herself comfortable and waving a hand while smiling broadly.

"Heeey. Where you goin'! The show can't be over! ...Just pretend I'm not even here~!"

"Astriiiiiid."

He stayed behind the wall.

"Can you leave please? My pants are in there."

They were on the floor. Which meant, if she wanted, she could hold them hostage.

Hey, whaddya' know. His pants are RIGHT HERE next to her! And you better believe she is that evil.

She crossed her legs, her foot sweeping up his pants by the waistband, allowing it to dangle on the tip of her footwear as she absently swung them left and right.

"That's right. They are in here." Thaaaat awfully sounds like she isn't planning on cooperating or playing nice and just throwing them over to him.

She hums. "So this is what the great Dragon Whisperer does in his spare time when he isn't soaring across the sky or banging tools together in his forge. My oh my."

Hiccup peeked his head around the wall, noticed his pants were now indeed hostage, and sighed.

"I was just--it's good music. And I felt like just letting loose and--"

He broke off into a sigh.

"Astrid, please give me my pants? Please?"

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"I have them so they're my pants right now," she says matter-of-factly. Unless he comes over and gets them for himself.

Blinking slowly, her lips then mock pout as she plays with the end of her braid, upturned round blue eyes staring in his direction.

"...You want me to go?" Pout, pout. "And I thought it was getting good. The music, you... untamed... enjoying yourself, and..." Her foot moves, urging forth another swing of his captured pants. "...the lack of clothing..."

"You are--just--an evil--"

Hiccup pulled his tunic down as far as it would go darted out and tried to snag his pants, hoping to grab them quickly and dart back behind the wall.

"--teasing tease."

He was blushing so furiously that even his freckled, scrawny legs were slightly flushed.

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WHOA. Fast half-naked little thing, isn't he!

Her hand swiftly snatched the pants, keeping it away from his grasp just in time. Then subsequently slamming her feet down on the floor to propel her forward, an arm reaches to grab at him--his arm, his tunic, or something to get a hold of. Her fingers out almost like talons while her lips grin devilishly.

Not exactly fast as he'd like to be. He also made the mistake of getting too close. Looks like his pants won't be the only thing she'll have if he doesn't move quick enough and dart back where he came.

"Why do you have to torment me at every opportunity?"

Caught! Oh noes!

By the hem of his tunic.

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Aha.

"You make it so easy," she purred, very pleased with this outcome. She works at the hem, twisting it so the end can fit in her grip more easily and she starts to reel him in by it, not caring if it may hike up against his will.

Either way, her body backs up to sit down in the chair behind her and so she can pull him on her lap.

And he better comply--lest he tears what's left that is covering his underwear and slender thighs.

And now he was in her lap, bright red and without any possibility of escape. He quickly squirmed and tugged on the hem of his tunic, trying to cover his lap as best as he could.

Looking down and around, he said, "You know, it's times like these I'm really glad you don't wear that spiky skirt anymore."

Derp derp, now what.

"That said, what do you want, Astrid? What exactly are the conditions of my release?"

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Simply ignoring his banter, she situates herself to better accommodate him.

Hm.

"I really meant what I said. I liked watching you... as boisterous and ridiculous as it was. I've never seen you like that," she smirks, now gifting the squirmy, embarrassed boy with an under the chin scritching. Is that a little better, Hiccup?

"I never knew you were so..." She strays away from his chin to glide her fingers down his throat, along his chest, until stopping at the tunic's hem, beginning to ease it up playfully.

"Flexible."

Lots of innuendo here, yeah. Except she isn't going for that.

There was almost a solid minute that he stared at her, eyes wide, and at most, he could just make an odd clicking sound with his tongue, like a record stopping.

Then he noticed her playing with his tunic and he looked down.

Did he just go with that? Stop her? Go with that?

Ultimately, the awkward teen boy modesty and body image issues won out, so he started to tug it down just as much as she tugged it up, but that turned into a naughty little game in and of itself, one that Astrid was probably going to win.

At the same time, one leg crossed over the other. (He was trying to hide from view the juncture where automail met flesh, as it wasn't exactly pretty).

"Well, I am--I'm flexible. A little. I'm--you liked it? Really?"

Seriously?

"I mean, really? Uh, 'cause right there, right there I was looking like an idiot and usually--I might be wrong on this--but usually when someone makes themselves look like an idiot, they just...look like an idiot, so I'm just having some trouble understanding why exactly--I mean, did you just like it because 'Ha ha, stupid Hiccup, that's funny'? Or..."

Or did she think he was awkwardly adorable or something? She was kind of making the sexy eyes at him, although in Astrid's case, that was always her looking a little...predatory.

Edited 2010-09-30 10:16 (UTC)

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There was a slight pout and a thin of her eyes upon him when he refused her. Nevertheless, she's a devious, stubborn thing so she was not about to give in. Thus a hand continued to carefully hoist the hem up whenever he tried to tug it back down.

"Tha-that might... hold still... that might be." If he won't let her raise his tunic, she'll just go about this another way... inevitably snaking her hand under and up past the hem, playing across his tummy and skin with cold fingers.

"But it makes me laugh. It was nice." Of course she means not laughing at him in a contempt manner. And that was a huge thing considering, with Astrid, Hiccup always earned a beating or some form of hate and ridicule when he did idiotic stuff.

There was wiggling as he tried to escape her hand.

Did he love when she stuck her hands on him? Hell yes. But right now he was feeling more nervous and embarrassed than anything, and he had that big ugly scar there that wasn't there before, and so the war of the fingers continued as he still held down the hem of his tunic while she tried to sliiide her hands up underneath it.

"Did you think...that it was cute?" he asked curiously.

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"Well... yeah. I don't know how to explain it, but... I feel like it's something you'd only do around. Um. Around me," she replies, keeping her eyes downcast and tries to focus on 'winning' their little game they have going.

He uncrossed his leg, some of the self-consciousness dissipating like fog in the afternoon, and started to bop that foot around slightly to the music that was still playing, toes curled happily.

And oh no, he seems to have lost his grip on the hem of his tunic. Looks like he lost the game. Oops.

"And--and you think I'm cute," he clarified. "Hence the groping. That you're doing right now. So it was, with me not with pants, and what I was doing was cute, and you think I'm cute. So that's why you liked it."

So articulate.

Forgive him, Astrid, he's still getting used to this remotely-being-attractive-to-a-girl thing. In fact, he's kind of starting to look faintly pleased over it.

Edited 2010-09-30 11:34 (UTC)

This made her pause briefly, glancing up at him with flustered cheeks, before her eyes dart back down. The hand returning up his tunic once more, delicately tracing circles and nonsensical signs underneath it.

"Took you long enough to put it together," she teased softly, a genuine smile breaking through.

Oh, he can have his pants back now, if he wanted them.

GDI Ish, I wanted to do something like this ICly

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