[Collab] Blind Date

Matentines is a season of many things, if sex can be considered many things. That's pretty much the point to everything that takes place this season, from innocent blind dates to very not innocent, ahem, group dates. It's nothing new, really, and it's never a surprise.

Judas still finds himself face down on a couch that is much too lux for his paycheck. Ever since the start of February, he's been uncomfortably warm, as if a fever was rising just under his skin. It never turned into an actual illness, not exactly, but the heat and discomfort certainly hasn't stopped.

In the past, Judas's heats haven't stopped him from his general inclination towards mischief, nor his rampant tirades of extroversion where anyone he comes across is at the mercy of his mood. He doesn't see himself as a tornado, a force of nature, clearing the waters wherever he goes-- but others certainly do.

Including the owner of said lux couch Judas is laying on, his mother, or so he decided. He didn't know who his dam nor sire were, but that hardly mattered. If anything, all the better, because as soon as he met her, there was no question.

Heats normally don't stop him, but this one has been more oppressive than others, for reasons unknown. ... and he doesn't really care to question it. He can take suppressants or something in the future. For now, the discomfort is well worth the excuse to loaf around and be doted on (hint hint, to everyone, obviously).

Judas groans as he rolls onto his side, looking for the clock on the wall. Seems it's about time to go-- he has a blind date set up that will hopefully take his mind off his heat, if not end up being a remedy for it. Being around others will also help his mood, being the social type that he is, just... getting off this very comfortable, very lux couch, is more of an effort than it should be.

He wiggles around so his thighs are against the back of the couch, his knees hanging over the edge, while his upper body is hanging off. He slides slowly onto the floor, momentarily lapsing into a confusing tangle of limbs, before he finally stretches out and gets to his feet. He stretches his neck side to side.

Getting ready is simple. He has a method for the half dozen rings he wears, and he always wears his jewelry claws on his index fingers. His sash is tied in the blink of an eye, and his mantle buttons onto his shirt. He cinches the sleeves of his blouse at the wrist, steps into his lace-up boots (there's a zipper on the back, thank you very much), and pins his hat into his hair.

From there it's a smattering of makeup, because he can be as sloppy as he likes when 'chaotic' is the desired effect.

"Mooo~ooom," he sing-songs into the apartment, standing by the door. "I'm going out! Don't wait up, with any luck I'll be gone aaaall~ niiiight~!"

~

Azimuth is a rather quiet bun.

This often gets mistaken for coolness, for confidence, for an easy aloofness that belies his collected personality.

Azimuth is not, in fact, any of these things, not in his everyday life.

Azimuth is shy and awkward, and bad at meeting new people. Patients come into his clinic, flush at his handsome face and apparently aloof persona, and stammer their way through conversations. Sometimes they flirt, but half the time, Azimuth is too distracted and nervous himself to register it until later.

That all is to say... when his usual, established options aren't available, being in heat? It's a bitch to deal with.

February rolls around, and with it comes Matentines... and comes heat, that urgent biological need to raw someone until neither of them can think anymore. Azimuth manages ok, at first- ignoring it for the first week or so, but after that, things change.

Seven had been busy with several other buns, and Azimuth isn't one for group projects. Nadir had found a mate for the season, and once his mind is set on something, it's impossible to sway him. So on, and so on, with every option dropping off by the time the day itself rolled around.

Azimuth spent it alone, miserable and hard as the rock scattered across his skin.

And there were still two more weeks of this.

There were options, of course; he could so easily pair up with one of his patients, and while he's not against the occasional fling, work could get messy if he ends up knocking a patient up. Coworkers, likewise, could easily just devolve into a headache. Groups, not his style, clubs, too loud...

It was an ad that was his saving grace, sitting innocuously on the break room's bulletin board. Blind date sign up. Not a perfect solution- who knows what kind of bun he could be paired with? - but Azimuth's options were depressingly low, and he was so, so sick of weathering this alone.

That's how he finds himself now, an embarrassing twenty minutes early to some uptown dining establishment that had been picked out for him and his date. Twenty minutes to himself, to psych himself up, or psych himself out.

He's foregone his usual loose pants and crop top, because he's putting in genuine effort into this blind date thing, even if it's for largely selfish reasons. Cleanly creased black slacks elongate his legs, just barely covering up a pair of black, slightly shiny boots. He wears a button down shirt, though almost half of the buttons are going entirely unused, showing off a (hopefully) enticing triangle of skin and crystal that usually goes covered up. His group chat (full of people who abandoned him in his time of need for other buns to mate- for shame on them all) insisted on finishing the look up with a couple of plain silver rings decorating his ball-jointed fingers.

He waits, leaning back in his chair with skin slightly flushed from the same heat so many buns are dealing with now, and hopes to satan that he doesn't look as jittery and anxious as he feels.

Judas arrives fashionably early, with six minutes to spare before his date is supposed to start. He says as much to the host, who does not seem to be amused by just about anything (including and especially everything coming out of Judas's mouth). Usually, Judas digs his heels in, plays his games, but not now-- he has six minutes, and he wants to beat his date here.

"So where's my table?" he asks, scanning the restaurant.

The host motions to a table for two where another man is already sitting.

Judas stares at the host like he's been personally offended by the host for this, even though he knows it's not the host's fault. He's not even all that upset, and he's not about to leave, he just... is disappointed that he was not actually here first. (Lullabye and Lychee are never on time. Never. Truffle can be, if she wants to be. But usually she doesn't. Apparently his blind date is not like any of them.) And frankly, Judas is nothing if not dramatic.

Judas pats his own cheeks to psyche himself up before brushing past the host stand, headed over to his table. He stands behind the empty chair, leans on it, and clears his throat. Dark red eyes fall on this handsome stranger, and Judas's lips curl into a grin. The disdain and shock from half a moment ago are gone as if they'd never been around to start with.

"Well hello there," he says, voice dripping with honey. He offers a hand. "You surprised me. I thought I'd be here first. I'm Judas."

Azimuth blinks, somehow having the distinct feeling that he's done something wrong. He wasn't late- he got here quite early, so it can't be because he was late. And his date, too, was early... nervousness builds inside of him, though he doesn't show it on his face. Instead, he straightens from where he had been lounging back in his chair, looking the bun in front of him over.

A member of the church, apparently- or maybe just someone who raided their uniforms. High boots are thigh high, ending well above the knee, and they leave an enticing stretch of skin bare before his shorts begin. Azimuth could just reach out and-

-shake the bun's hand. It feels oddly business-like, and Azimuth is beginning to have doubts on if this will pan out or not.

"Azimuth. I was eager to meet you." His expression doesn't change one bit as he speaks.

Judas shakes once before perching in his seat, and-- he really is perching. He's sitting on the edge of the chair, elbows resting against the table. One arm is laying down while he leans his cheek in the palm of his other hand. His cheeks are ruddy-- mainly from his heat, but also at this intriguing new prospect.

He probably shouldn't say he almost didn't come.

Or straight up proposition this bun, right off the bat.

"You're handsome," he says instead. His cheshire grin shows pearly teeth. "So, tell me, Azi. How's Matentines been treating you? Been busy making..." Judas's eyes flick down, then back up. "... friends?"

The host leaves pretty quickly- doubtless, they've had to put up with plenty of couples just like Azimuth and... Judas, was it? It's that time of year, after all. In fact, it's a rather admirable display of restraint that the employees are all so level headed, especially in the presence of doubtless many unmated succubuns coming in and out all day.

Azimuth tilts his head slightly, not missing the way Judas eyes him up. That's a good sign, he thinks- it means that unless their personalities end up being horribly incompatible... they'll both be walking away satisfied tomorrow morning. At the absolute earliest.

"Azi...?" Azimuth repeats the nickname under his breath, slightly bemused. "...I've been busy this Matentines, unfortunately." Or, rather, not busy, as the case may be. "I thought perhaps... I could find someone likewise looking for... mm, companionship." Through a service that requires minimal socialization- Azimuth's eternal weak spot, thanks to his shyness.

"If you don't like that nickname, speak now or forever be known as Azi," Judas says. "Bonus points if you have another one you like for me to use."

Judas knows that look on Azimuth, though. He hasn't even looked at his menu-- neither of them have. But neither of them came for food.

"Mmm, companionship," Judas purrs in reply. "Does this humble bun suit your tastes, my dear sir?"

"My... friends call me Az," Azimuth says in response, though notable, he doesn't say he dislikes the nickname. It's silly, almost childish, but to have any kind of dedicated attention makes his stomach flip pleasantly, and stokes the purring fire sitting just beneath his skin. He wants the attention, wants the affection, wants-

Azimuth subtly takes a deep breath, and lets his gaze turn hungry, lets everything else fade away for just a moment. None of his typical shyness, none of his patient doctor persona, just Azimuth, starved for affection. His horns,crystalline and nestled in his hair, are lust horns- so to go without for so long, during this time of year, has left him ravenous, and not for food.

He drags his eyes across Judas's smaller form, and the tiniest smile tilts the corners of his mouth.

"...I'd say yes," Azimuth says softly, gaze drifting back to meet Judas's. "Though to know for sure, I think we'd need a more thorough investigation."

A comfortable warmth pulses through Judas's body. Az, huh? Mm... not sure which I prefer. Az or Azi.

But that is not at all what comes out of his mouth. He stands, leaning heavily into his palms, which are pressed against the table. He's leaning as far forward across the table as he can, currently looking down at Azimuth.

Judas's heart is pounding. He thinks he's a good judge of character-- and Azimuth has some character. And he wants it.

He needs it, all to himself.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Judas asks, tilting his head to the side so far that his head is almost sideways. He licks his lip. "Say it. I wanna hear you say it."

Some part of Azimuth recognized that they're both laying it on more than a little thick.

The rest of him doesn't care.

Clearly, they both need this. Badly. Azimuth doesn't know Judas's situation, but he knows his own, and demons he's just needed... someone.

And Judas? Judas seems fully willing to be that someone.

Azimuth leans forward, resting his elbow on the table, and his chin on his palm.

"Come home with me. I know, the staff knows, everyone knows we're not really here for food." Azimuth licks his lips, his cheeks flushed with heat, and with their proximity, even while separated by a table.

"Let me take you apart."

Judas breathes a laugh. He steps around the table and nudges Azimuth's shoulder, reaching to loop his arms around Azimuth's bicep before he's even standing. He's got a grin-pout going on, and his cheeks are redder than ever.

"Mmkay," he says. "Which is yes. Up, up, come on, home with you, let's go."

In the end, they leave before their reservation even officially began. The host rolls their eyes as they leave, Judas clinging to Azimuth's arm and looking up at him with hearts in his eyes, but, well...

...this is exactly why they charge a deposit during Matentines.