This work is part of a series. The previous work is No Escaping When I Start (Once I'm In I Own Your Heart). The first work is Once Upon A Time.
A/N: I don't own any Descendants media. Everyone new to the story, please remember to review and favourite it if you enjoy it.
Whipped cream & other Delights,
TheHarleyQueen
The bar was rowdy and the air thick and hot. The poles were slicked down and the rooms filled with so much incense it was impossible to breathe. The bar was filled with empty bottles and piled with shot glasses. Girls with bland eyes and hooker heels twirled and danced and undulated with the music, bodies slicked with sweat and alcohol, jewellery clanging and eyelashes fluttering.
But there was one girl, in the center of the room, who stood out. Her hair was long and dark, and she wore no clothes. She danced like she enjoyed it and messed her hair and licked her lips, but there was something about her. People paid for her time even though she never gave it to them, and three others, like her in their demeanour {powerful, demanding}, but unlike her in their state of attire stood in the corner of the room. The two males wore a bloody red and cruel eyes, cloaked in the protection of gods and deamons, while the female between them wore a dark blue evening gown, the colour the sky would have been if they could see it, and striking eyeliner and red lips, an untouchable goddess in every right.
The shorter, blonde male whispered into the woman's ear, and she smiled and dropped an apple into the bowl where the dancer was collecting the tips she couldn't carry on her person. The goddess and the dancer exchanged a glance, and then the dancer jumped off the stage, collecting her cash and her clothes from their scattered position on the floor, dressing as she went. By the time she reached the back corner, she looked every bit as respectable and powerful as any of the others, though her dress was shorter than the other girl's, and her smile crueller. She took her place, and the other man, darker in stature and larger in size, whispered against her neck.
"You are the most beautiful dancer, your majesty."
And the blue-haired woman laughed, her laugh beautiful and pure, and exclaimed, "Careful, boy. Don't let Mal get her claws too far into you."
The other boy, the blonde, mumbled something along the lines of 'Says you' into the skin of her neck, too busy kissing her to commit effort to a comeback. The bluenette twisted her head, so that their foreheads leaned against each other, their lips barely a burning inch apart, "I am the consort of Conquest, boy. No one will ever hold me entranced." The blonde boy just smirked, bringing his lips to touch hers, his hands roaming her body, his eyes making contact with the dancer's. Then he pulled back, and the blue-haired girl sat, eyes unfocused and mind revelling in the scent and touch of the man. "Sure about that, Genevieve?"
The pretty girl- Genevieve- smiled and laughed, conceding the point. She stood up, with grace, but also joy and strength, and led the quartet's way out of the strip club. The street that housed Rosie's was just as dirty and rundown as the club itself. The roofs were falling off most of the buildings, and few of them had lights that weren't flickering, out, or red. There were no walls between the properties, and the roofs that were intact hung low. This was obviously downtown.
Once they were a ways down the street, the woman who had been called Mal took charge. Even in her tight dress and rickety heels, she pulled herself up onto one of the few walls in the area, and started running over the roofs, whooping in joy, and the others followed suit. They ran fast, even in the dark, their feet sure and their minds clear. They had all done this before.
Eventually, they came to a stop on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, second only to one. Genevieve sat down, her legs hanging over the edge of the roof, her body facing the gorgeous center of light that was just across the sea, and a clear bottle in her hands. She took a swig and passed it to Mal, who threw her head back and swallowed a quarter of the bottle in three large gulps. Her breath smelled of vodka and rotten fruit, now, and her skin smelled of smoke and a sharp, cool, and yet musky smell that one would associate with magick, if one were used to the practice. The dark-haired boy came up behind her and started slowly massaging her shoulders, kissing down the back of her neck and leaving little bites while he was at it, "Jay," she whispered, exhibiting none of the confidence she'd held on stage, "Jay. Jay. Jayjayjayjayjay."
He stopped his actions, spinning Mal around to face him, "Yeah, baby?"
"Don't stop."
He smirked at her, eyes glinting in the dark, reflecting the light of the city across the water, "Too late."
And the woman leaned forward until he was lying flat on his back, her mouth at his, her breasts pressed against his chest and her breath sharp. Her words blew over his lips and her eyes bore into his, cold and heartless and loving, "Not until I say so." Their lips met, and they both put all their passion into the kiss, fully aware of their friends watching, both wishing they were in the same place.
After a few minutes of this, and Genevieve and the blonde boy passing a bottle back and forth, whispering nothings and staring out into the city of burning lights, Mal and Jay eventually surface for air, grabbing another half-full bottle that lay on the rooftop. They crawled over to the edge of the roof, letting their legs fall over the edge and sliding in between their friends, Mal between Genevieve and the blonde, and Jay next to him. Then Genevieve spoke, "Carlos says that one day we'll rule them." She gestured out with her hand towards the city. Mal nodded, and continued, "We will."
Jay looked between the two girls and Carlos, and his lips curled into a wicked grin, "We already would be, if we lived there." He leaned across to kiss them, first Carlos and then Mal, and finally pressing a kiss to his lips and presenting it to Genevieve as if it were something of great value. She swatted his hand away and laughed, "Liar."
"To you, fair Evie? Never. I'd swear on my honour," he glanced around as if making sure no one was listening in, "Or, I would, if I had any honour." She smiled, and Mal's full laugh echoed across the alleyways and abandoned homes of the island they lived on.
"That's not what I was saying, dummy. We'd never have known each other if we lived there. And we'd have no desire to rule," Evie rolled her eyes, stealing the vodka bottle back from Mal, and taking a polite sip. Then she lay back, staring at the sky that was so clouded with smog, and a magic barrier. Her eyes reflected the stars she couldn't see and her lips smiled the smile of queens that have exactly what they want.
"All the more reason to appreciate the Isle, in all its hideous glory," Carlos responded, grinning grotesquely as he took a sip of something from an unlabelled bottle, "it got me you guys." Evie and Jay sighed, never quite understanding Carlos's love for the place that was their home. Mal just smiled and joined Evie, lying back and saying, "It will be our time soon. I can feel it."