[truthfully? the first half of pietro's sentence goes in one ear and out the other. he knows his dear friend is whining something about a pretty person of his own that steve was supposed to help facilitate, but he's too taken yet again by the simple fact that steve is here. steve is here of his own volition. or at least, zemo thinks he is - right? certainly there was flirtation, but he hadn't outright asked him to come here to lavo. inviting him to a lunch date had started as a tease, but the more it went on the more it was cemented as an actual thing that was going to take place. no pretense of needing to impress an ambassador or field off nosy neighbors, not even the excuse of showing up his ex he'd buried deep at the gala. it was unarguably the most selfish of his meeting requests to date because it was simply a need for steve's time and company. ironically the one thing he told himself he'd never need to pay for - a friend.
"friend" doesn't exactly encompass the chemistry he feels practically tangible in the small space between them now, not when there's a possessive hand on his hip and steve pulls him close enough to smell the cologne that's practically intrinsically ingrained into his olfactory memory from the kiss. he inhales lightly, eyes closing for a very brief moment to imagine they're back at the gilded halls of the sokovian embassy and the night is on its way to a very different end, the kind that would justify him coming here and making a splash among his friends. he looks utterly unapologetic for the dazed moment as he smirks lightly at pietro across the way.]
Hush, I said I did not know for certain if he had pretty friends. Besides - the night is so young and we haven't even started the dancing yet. Now don't be so rude, I haven't taught him Sokovian yet. Here, I'll start with something good.
[there's no bite to that from zemo, either, just the good-natured volley of someone with many years of experience. he's about to turn to steve anyway to explain (he knows how rude it is to prattle on and leave a flicker of doubt what's being said when you might be the subject) when soft lips press insistently at his neck. he can't suppress the shudder that ripples down his spine, the instinctive need to lean into it and tip his head just so in a way that allows steve better access over his finely woven clothes. it's only after he catches himself that he lets a little flicker of disbelief be visible in the wideness of his eyes. just for a moment before he's splaying long fingers across the back of steve's neck to lean in and answer his question.
and if his lips brush the shell of his ear while doing so - it's just a hazard of such close quarters.]
Bleskový - in English it means quicksilver. [here he turns to let pietro know they are in fact talking about him in return now, a sing-songing lilt indicative of years of familiar jabs.] Because he is so fast with his tongue, and even faster in how he works his way through his lovers.
[he turns back again, reluctantly letting his hand loosen and trying to hide disappointment at the idea of steve leaving so soon. there's a quick "thank you" murmured to the waiter and then steve, and before he can think better of it:]
You could stay awhile. We're only saying how handsome you are and I promise we do not bite. Besides - I should be buying you a drink. After we finish this one, of course.
[ Steve knows he should leave. That coming here is as big a mistake as any he's made in the duration of his career, but something about Zemo pulls him in, draws him close as a magnet might. There's no denying the crackle of heat between them, the lure of fingers and lips on skin. He doesn't feel this with his clients, not like this, and when he's sure Zemo had all but leaned into the little kiss on his neck, Steve's vision flickers white-hot at the edges. ]
Mm, Bleskový - did I say that right? [ The lips against the shell of his ear make his skin prickle, and he glances toward Pietro when Zemo looks away. It gives him a chance to press his lips to the man's temple affectionately, the hand on his hip creeping up just enough to settle warmly against his waist. ]
There isn't any shame in being picky and trying new things. [ Pietro huffs, even looks a little vindicated as he points at Zemo when he speaks next: ]
Don't you see? At least he understands me. You don't deserve such a pretty, smart thing. Why don't you let me introduce him to the dance floor, no? I will be good, I promise. [ He waggles his eyebrows, then follows it close with a pout, because he knows the answer.
Steve instead laughs, a little surprised, and he takes his own drink and sips from it, watching the pair exchange taunts and barbs all the while he gently strokes the man's side, possessive and affectionate all at once. ] You don't have to buy me anything, I interrupted your night, doll. Were you thinking of dancing? I don't want to cut in...
[ Pietro sighs like a woman who has lost her first born and sags in his seat, but not before drinking deeply from his new glass. ]
Ah, Nohy, go on then. Leave me to my lonesome. I will cry and cry and cry...
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"friend" doesn't exactly encompass the chemistry he feels practically tangible in the small space between them now, not when there's a possessive hand on his hip and steve pulls him close enough to smell the cologne that's practically intrinsically ingrained into his olfactory memory from the kiss. he inhales lightly, eyes closing for a very brief moment to imagine they're back at the gilded halls of the sokovian embassy and the night is on its way to a very different end, the kind that would justify him coming here and making a splash among his friends. he looks utterly unapologetic for the dazed moment as he smirks lightly at pietro across the way.]
Hush, I said I did not know for certain if he had pretty friends. Besides - the night is so young and we haven't even started the dancing yet. Now don't be so rude, I haven't taught him Sokovian yet. Here, I'll start with something good.
[there's no bite to that from zemo, either, just the good-natured volley of someone with many years of experience. he's about to turn to steve anyway to explain (he knows how rude it is to prattle on and leave a flicker of doubt what's being said when you might be the subject) when soft lips press insistently at his neck. he can't suppress the shudder that ripples down his spine, the instinctive need to lean into it and tip his head just so in a way that allows steve better access over his finely woven clothes. it's only after he catches himself that he lets a little flicker of disbelief be visible in the wideness of his eyes. just for a moment before he's splaying long fingers across the back of steve's neck to lean in and answer his question.
and if his lips brush the shell of his ear while doing so - it's just a hazard of such close quarters.]
Bleskový - in English it means quicksilver. [here he turns to let pietro know they are in fact talking about him in return now, a sing-songing lilt indicative of years of familiar jabs.] Because he is so fast with his tongue, and even faster in how he works his way through his lovers.
[he turns back again, reluctantly letting his hand loosen and trying to hide disappointment at the idea of steve leaving so soon. there's a quick "thank you" murmured to the waiter and then steve, and before he can think better of it:]
You could stay awhile. We're only saying how handsome you are and I promise we do not bite. Besides - I should be buying you a drink. After we finish this one, of course.
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Mm, Bleskový - did I say that right? [ The lips against the shell of his ear make his skin prickle, and he glances toward Pietro when Zemo looks away. It gives him a chance to press his lips to the man's temple affectionately, the hand on his hip creeping up just enough to settle warmly against his waist. ]
There isn't any shame in being picky and trying new things. [ Pietro huffs, even looks a little vindicated as he points at Zemo when he speaks next: ]
Don't you see? At least he understands me. You don't deserve such a pretty, smart thing. Why don't you let me introduce him to the dance floor, no? I will be good, I promise. [ He waggles his eyebrows, then follows it close with a pout, because he knows the answer.
Steve instead laughs, a little surprised, and he takes his own drink and sips from it, watching the pair exchange taunts and barbs all the while he gently strokes the man's side, possessive and affectionate all at once. ] You don't have to buy me anything, I interrupted your night, doll. Were you thinking of dancing? I don't want to cut in...
[ Pietro sighs like a woman who has lost her first born and sags in his seat, but not before drinking deeply from his new glass. ]
Ah, Nohy, go on then. Leave me to my lonesome. I will cry and cry and cry...