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duplicitymemes2021-01-10 07:56 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2021-01-10 07:56 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #16
« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »
» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «
« « « ALL ON DISPLAY
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you’re here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You’re a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your high rise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You’re a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you’ll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals. The weather is rather cold and icy. |
» » » WALKING TOUR
 The cold, icy winter weather has seen to it that there is an unfortunate interruption with the usual city tour for the newest arrivals to Duplicity. Some of the train tracks have a dangerous amount of ice coating them and sections of travel are now unavailable via train. City officials still believe that the tours are important to integrate new LIERs to Duplicity so they have organised personal walking tours held by current LIERs. New arrivals will be paired with their own tour guide; they can take the suggested path or take their barely dressed charge on a more ad-hoc tour. It might be considerate to let them change into something warmer first! Important landmarks and checkpoints like Fiddler’s Square, North Park, The Up and Down Courts, the People Zoo and of course S.L.U.T. need to be marked off on the tours but there have also been fun local stores which have set-ups for free samples and information booklets. What order and how people travel to them is up to them. |
« « « GALLERIA OF SEX
 (CW: exhibitionism, voyeurism, dub/non-con)One of the stops along these new walking tours is a temporary educational art installation that has been set up to display and talk about the rich variety of kinks that are popular in Duplicity. Newcomers are invited to come inside the building, sit on the human furniture to watch and learn or volunteer to participate themselves. Each section has local LIERs and graduated citizens there to help walk those new to the program through the displays, explaining the appeal and draw of each kink. Live demonstrations or performance art are carried out by LIERs who have volunteered, been conscripted or are fulfilling a sentence that would normally land them in the People Zoo. They can and will ask anyone and everyone to step up and be part of the artwork themselves. Some of the displays set up will feature:
We encourage players not to limit themselves in regards to what is on display. There are many more kinks than the ones listed, and Duplicity considers all kinds of sexual acts a form of art. Photo taking is encouraged throughout the exhibition, especially when your own participation is concerned. If you missed the chance to do so, in the moment, you need not worry as the gift shop at the end of the gallery will have many different prints taken over the course of the exhibition available for purchase. Take home a keepsake of your first day in Duplicity. |
« « « ICE TO SEE YOU
 (CW: exhibitionism)Winter does make it harder in Duplicity to enjoy all the pleasures of the flesh that could be on offer in the warmer months. Most who live in the city still need to wrap up with many layers when the weather turns so chilly. But that’s not saying that the city can’t find ways to help keep its residents in the mood. It will first be noticeable to those trying their hand at streaming or posting video footage onto the network. Regardless of a character's state of dress while recording, they will appear completely naked to those watching and no amount of covering up with more articles of material will change that. Others might see it as they set about on their first days getting used to the city’s layout, glancing into a shop window they will notice their own state of undress in their reflection. You might even see it in a particularly shiny bit of ice but no matter where you look, all reflective surfaces will show everyone in their birthday suits, naked as the day they were born. |
« « « BLADES OF GLORY
 (CW: exhibitionism, dubcon, drugging) In a bid to encourage individuals to get out and keep active despite the chilly weather, the city has transformed one of the large tennis courts in the Up into a makeshift outdoor skating rink. In the recreation building attached to the courts-turned-rink the change rooms have been outfitted for people to change into more appropriate clothing. There is also at the front of the building an area to rent skates. Many who get on the ice see no reason to keep apart, as many contracted couples can be seen holding hands or chasing each other as they skate. In the change rooms it isn’t uncommon to see a bit of hanky panky or people getting off at helping others in and out of their skates. There also seems to be a small hot chocolate stand set up inside the building where characters can buy a warm drink to sip on while taking a break from skating. The drink may leave those that consume it feeling especially warm and frisky, with perhaps a bit of extra energy they need to burn off - skating might not cut it. |
« « « MOD & OOC NOTES
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: If your character would rather have a dog for a pet they are Dominant. If they would rather have a cat for a pet they are Submissive. If your character is from a canon that has neither, pick the choice you believe they would prefer more. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to use new tdms with different designations for fun! Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have a good time!! |
no subject
Roy smiles a little, but it falls away, and leaning into the other man, he thrusts his wrists out to be freed. “These Earth people, are they the natives who brought us here? Has anyone tried to escape? Does anyone know how to use the tech they used to bring us here? I left people behind who need me. It’s important.”
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"We do all need allies in this place, you guys who they've marked with the," he gestures with one hand to indicate the line on the neck that Submissives all bear, "or even if they haven't. Personally, I work less on the quid pro quo model 'n more on the logic that we all gotta have each others' backs 'round here."
Which is to say that he's unlikely to ever call in a favour, like Mustang owes him something, but very likely to go on valuing whatever mutual bond of camaraderie that they manage to build today.
"Far as anyone can tell, this isn't Earth either. Duplicity's just Duplicity. There ain't a lotta information 'bout what exists beyond this island. There's two other cities we know of--Insincerity 'n Veracity, but you can't get beyond the borders of either. And there's a place called Fort Harmony," he shakes his head, "no way out there either and you can't even get close to it anymore." His tone says that no one in their right mind should want to get close to it anymore.
"Far as LIES tech goes, they keep everything locked down tight 'n no one's ever got an answer to how things work. Sometimes I think LIES themselves only half know. People tried all kinda stuff to get home, but unless there's a 'glitch' in the program 'n you just disappear one day, you're stuck here."
It's bad news that he's delivering, and he is sympathetic. "I"m sorry, man. I know what it's like needing to get back home, and it sucks. Worse than all the quota 'n the contracts 'n the Dom/sub bullshit's just being stuck here."
no subject
When Vrenille gestures toward his throat, Roy looks down thinking he won’t be able to see it, whatever it may be. Turns out he’s very wrong, he notes, when his eyes land on the black mark running down his chest, the contrast between that and his pale skin astonishing. He remembered nothing, no one marking him with this. What else had they done to him when he was insensate? Just who were these people-things believing they were entitled to kidnap him, to deny him a return to the country that needed him?
His mind flurries with the implications of Vrenille’s words, not the information he’d asked of the other man, but the other things, the ‘you guys’. Mustang’s gaze flutters back up to look at Vrenille. “What do you mean by LIES and quotas and contracts and everything else.” His voice grows deeper, more urgent. “What the hell,” he lifts a hand to gesture up and down his chest and neck, “is this?”
no subject
When he answers Mustang's questions, it's with a kind earnestness. He clearly gets no pleasure in being the one to deliver the news, but he's also offering the gesture of respect that comes in not sugar coating any of it.
"The group that brought us all here is called LIES. They're not the whole city. They're researchers. Say they're looking for someone who doesn't have what they call the 'deceit gene.' It's a load of bullshit if you ask me, but all the evidence in the multiverse that they're just chasing some deluded pipe dream ain't gonna stop 'em.
"According to LIES, getting people to fuck makes it so they can tell whether they got this gene or not," he raises a hand to forestall any objections. "Don't try 'n make sense outta it, it's just the line they give. So that's why they got the quota--you gotta have sex at least three times a month. Can be any kinda sex with whoever you want, but if you don't have it they're gonna drag out off 'n pump you full of drugs so's you have it anyway."
He gives that a moment to settle because he knows that it's already a lot. "The rest is to do with this city, the culture of this whole place. As we go 'round town you'll see there's people with these lines down their throats like you got, 'n there's people like me who don't got 'em. It's arbitrary, completely, who comes out with one 'n who doesn't. You just gotta remember that 'cause the city sure don't.
"City says, if you got a line on you, you're a Submissive. If you don't, you're a Dominant. They treat us different, like with you in chains 'n me not, but it's gonna rankle the hell outta you when you see how far it goes. Probably gonna make you wanna burn this whole place down. Don't. I'm not saying you gotta like it or think it's fair. It ain't fair. But 'specially today, you just gotta take it all in. So long as you're with me, you're fine. Anything weird happens, you just trust me, yeah?"
It's a big ask, given how little they know of each other, but it's Vrenille offering his word that he can be relied on, and hopefully he's at least demonstrating that to be true so far.
"As for the contracts, don't worry 'bout that too much just yet. You got three months 'fore you gotta do it, but they're gonna expect you to sign some papers with someone. There's a bunch of rules, practical shit. Bottom line's that they expect Dominants 'n Submissives to make these agreements together. If you handle it right, it can make your life a lot easier. But you gotta go one step at a time."
no subject
One step at a time, huh?
Of course, he’d be deemed a submissive. He’s been a Colonel for several years now, and is used to being in control of every situation he finds himself in, and all that’s been stripped away by a handful of crazy aliens on a whim, no less. Great. He’d achieved his rank at a young age through hard work (albeit, no one knew that outside his people). And, admittedly, his talent for using what he needed to in order to climb the ranks. But all that is a tangent for which he lacks the time.
He doesn’t even know what to say to it all, wondering crazily how someone goes about asking someone else to have sex in a city where they don’t know anyone. Anyone at all, other than this man.
“I’m a little confused, Vrenille. What kind of “weird things” happen here? Am I not allowed to defend myself, an act that I’m perfectly capable of and with unerring accuracy, if I so choose. Is there a reason behind these contracts, and what happens if I refuse to negotiate a contract?”
no subject
"So for now, when I say weird things I mean...if I gotta act like you're 'mine,' gotta talk 'bout you like stuff's my choice 'n not yours, like what happens to you's down to my whim, or if I gotta take liberties, act a little rough with you or get a little closer than casual--it's just 'bout what's required. Public face, y'know. It's what the city expects."
He knows that alone is plenty enough to make some men balk. He can only wait and see how Mustang takes it.
"Far as refusing goes. Refuse to sign a contract 'n they'll throw you in a place they call the People Zoo, lock you in a cage 'n bring people in to look at you til you comply. Refuse to act in line with your role as a Submissive, they'll drag you off to Realignment. If you're with me, they might well drag me there too. Best case scenario it's classes to 'educate' you. Worst, it's outright brainwashing. That's why I say, even if you hate it, you pretend, you act the part, 'cause then at least you get to keep your free will."
no subject
If he has an advantage in this situation -- it comes via the military. He knows how to take orders, how to subsume his own needs in favor of the person with more authority. Roy doesn’t like doing it, but he does know how.
Apparently, that's the only thing he can do to survive here. He frowns, but ultimately, he’ll do what he must on the off-chance he might one day find a way home. It's imperative he complies if he wants his mind to remain intact.
“Huh. I have no choice.” Roy’s frown deepens as the idea that any Dom could use him if he isn't under the protection of one sinks deep into his skin. He feels it the moment it breaks free from its compartment, pebbling him with anxious goose pimples.
Roy swallows those feelings carefully setting his expression into one of calm, despite his need to rail against the unfairness of it all. He accepts the situation as dire and uncomfortable as it is. For now, he’ll focus on getting clothed and eating. He's hungry, looking longingly as they pass restaurant after restaurant and wonders where he’s housed. He has nothing, not his clothes, and only such information as Vrenille is willing to share.
Mustang looks to the other man, wondering why he’d rescue him at all, and then reminds himself the man saved him from being whipped at the gallery. There’s no reason for him not to trust the other man. It’s a bad habit he’s gotten into in the military, where it was necessary.
Roy suppresses a sigh. “I don’t know where I live. Is there anywhere we can go to find out?” Roy just hopes he won’t remain in the paper gown for much longer.
no subject
There's no reason for Mustang to just believe him when he says that, but there's a conviction behind the words, a voice of experience which maybe will be hard to believe, given how Vrenille clearly doesn't have a line drawn down his throat.
At any rate, sooner or later they're bound to come directly to the question of why Vrenille is doing this in the first place. There's no need to rush it, for now the taxi is pulling up towards a curb at their destination.
"I'll take you to the housing. That'll be our last stop. But first, let's get you some pants, man." He grins, his sign that even with everything as shit as it is, they don't have to be so grim or so dire, that it's all right to smile and take pleasure in small things. They've been getting on pretty well so far--so they can take pleasure in each other's company. It's not much, but it's not nothing.
Pausing to pay the driver and giving him a respectable tip, Vrenille opens the door and steps out onto the sidewalk of an upscale district at the start of a broad promenade through a pedestrianised zone. The leash that he'd been handed before is now looped up neatly and hanging clipped from his belt, and he's leaving the shackles with their key on the back seat of the cab, discarded. The sky overhead is a cold, bright winter's grey, but the streets and sidewalks are immaculately clean.
The people passing by are dressed in a whole range of styles. Some, like Vrenille, wearing clothes that are casual and contemporary, others in more risqué attire, stylised black and leathers. Most of the Submissives wear collars, though their styles range wildly, some looking more like necklaces than anything. A few are leashed, being led by finely-clad Dominants. At one spot, through the window of a cafe nearby, a woman, collared and topless, can be seen seated on the floor by a Dominant's feet.
"C'mon," Vrenille says, keeping his energy light and buoyant, and offering Mustang a smile as he nods towards some menswear shops nearby. "You're gonna have to trust me to dress you, but don't worry, I've got great taste."
no subject
He can do this, Roy thinks, scanning the people Vrenille pointed out, the submissives impossible to miss, now that he knows how to differentiate between the classes of people living here. Mustang fingers the collar around his neck. While he’s not entirely convinced, he’d had to participate in ugly things during the war.
The Flame Alchemist is nothing if not dignified. He’ll fight for his dignity if he must.
In the meantime, relief floods him at the offer of getting him clothed -- he had thought his uniform to be his only possession, not that he'll never wear it. The other man is nothing if not kind, and Roy feels himself relax, his shoulders falling, hips moving forward, and he takes a deep breath. “I guess you left the collar on because I’m a submissive.”
Since a tentative trust has sparked to life between them, Mustang feels he can share a little of himself. “People from my country don’t discuss sex. Attraction, sure, but not sex. I’ve never seen anything like what I’ve seen today. We’re certainly not advanced as this.” He points out the submissives with a flick of his chin. “I’m a Colonel in the Amestrian Military. Well, I was. But more to the point -- I was a politician. There was no way I could broadcast my sexual proclivities. I had to keep my preferences under the radar, and instead, I created an image of myself as a playboy. The truth is -- I’ve never had sex with a woman, although everyone believed me to be heterosexual. I was raised in a bordello and frequently seen with the women who worked there.”
He shared this piece of himself with very few people and hopes Vrenille recognizes his offer of friendship.
While it's his nature to be a little self-serving, he remembers him saying that for reasons undisclosed, how Roy behaves not only reflects on Vrenille but could result in a form of punitive action. "I won't bother to ask why, but how is it that what I do could get you into trouble? It's nonsensical"
no subject
As they walk towards the shops he says, a little wryly, "I dunno, is this advanced? Jury's still out for a lotta folks. I've heard plenty of people call the system here downright barbaric. Think it's one of 'em eyes of the beholder things. They definitely don't give a damn 'bout men who wanna have sex with men though. Or women with women."
And as Mustang's shared with him, he shares in turn, "My world's this way too actually. I've never had sex with a woman either, but where I'm from no one much cares. Some noble families where they're all hung up on bloodlines 'n who's gonna sire the next generation maybe, and you get the types every now 'n then who want everyone to be making babies 'cause they're afraid humans 're just gonna die out. But mostly, I've never had to hide nothing.
"I heard from a lotta guys like you who have though. And from that angle, you could say this place is downright liberating. You can screw whoever you want, especially as a Submissive. City doesn't care 'bout two Submissives having sex. It's like they don't recognise it. Whereas for me, if I got caught having sex with another Dominant, we could both be in trouble for it.
"It's a little like how you misbehaving could blow back on me--in the eyes of the city right now, I'm responsible for you. If I'm being a 'good' Dominant, that means you won't be outta control. If you are outta control, then I must not be playing my part so well. How much fault would fall on me vs you would always be down to particulars 'n just plain chance. This place isn't real good at being consistent. Or fair."
He nods towards a group of uniformed guards, walking down the opposite side of the street. "See those guys over there? SIN guards. They deal with enforcement of Dom/sub roles. Some of 'em aren't much more than uniformed thugs. Not exactly what you'd call the pinnacle of justice."
no subject
At Vrenille’s remark, Mustang smirks. “I guess you’re asking about my definition of the word advanced. What I meant when I said it is that where I come from, people hardly acknowledge sex, much less discuss it. Here, it’s mandatory, but at least people talk about it. And yes, the system is crude and offensive, but I’ve always believed in changing things from the inside. That’s why I think it would be best for me to run for office. I told you, I’m a politician. If I want to run for a position within the local government, I’ll need the goodwill of the city. He hooks a finger around the front of the collar, running it side to side and doesn’t remove it.
“Maybe I can make things easier for the people here.” He shrugs. “After the Ishvalan war, I’ve never wanted to use my alchemy to cause tragedy, which is the only reason I didn’t kill anyone today. I admit, I wanted to.”
no subject
Not that he's trying to dissuade the idea. He's used to being around ambitious men. He's used to being around soldiers too. There's quite a lot more that Mustang is going to need to know about this place and its existing politics before running for any sort of office really becomes viable. That also probably means that every bit of information Vrenille gives him is going to be put to use towards some purpose. He's fine with that, but it's still not something to rush. In any case, he figures it's a subject that they can table for now in favour of getting the guy some clothes.
It wasn't too long ago when Vrenille brought another new arrival to this district to dress him. That man was older though, his energy very different than Mustang's. On this occasion, Vrenille's choice of shops is different--somewhere a little more young and modern. In his time here, he's really taken to the culture of shopping, buying off the rack, all the options of the ready-made, so he's familiar with the boutiques in this district, and the one he's chosen now is one he likes himself. Beyond the big display windows, the space opens up onto racks and stands of jeans and jackets, various selections of shirts and knit jumpers, upbeat music piped through the speakers to add to the atmosphere of the place.
"Right," Vrenille says brightly, leading the way towards the racks of underwear by one of the far walls, "so skivvies. You gotta preference on style? 'Cause I tend to be sorta adventurous. Don't wanna freak you out too much on your first day." (As if that freaked out isn't the baseline. It is. He knows it is. But he's going to inject some levity into this experience nonetheless.)
no subject
The broad range of styles only confuses him momentarily. He’s a white boxer guy, as is everyone in Amestris. Something about this shop sings along his nerves. He likes it. He’s always loved shopping, but the clothes here are a culture shock in themselves. A nice one for once. He moves to a pair of royal blue, skin tight boxers he finds amusing. Other colors, too. He pinches their waistband between his thumb and finger, smiling genuinely now. They even have a little pocket in front. “These are great, if they aren’t too much.”
Mustang is living on this man’s charity, which doesn’t sit well, but based on what he’s heard so far, he’ll need to adapt. He wonders whether he’ll be able to dress here in the store or wait until they return to the car, but he’ll see soon enough.
He casts his gaze quickly at Vrenille, and with brightened eyes, Roy spins slowly, taking in all the different styles and colors of clothing. He sees a rack of greatcoats, looking at them longingly before stopping. He wraps his arms around his chest, hugging himself. “You know you don’t have to do this. You’ve already done quite a bit for me. Don't think I don't appreciate that.”
no subject
"Too much?" That's half a question about his own suggestion (too much in the style department), and half an echo of Mustang's words, which it takes him a moment to clock, having not been thinking in those terms at all. When he does, a second later, he waves the concern away as though it's nothing.
"Eh, don't worry 'bout the cost. If anything's too dear I'll say so." He's not shy about that, but also he's doing all right for himself these days. Buying a guy a new suit of clothes is certainly within his means.
As far as the underwear he's holding goes, he might or might not be serious about the suggestion. The way he's smirking makes it a little difficult to tell. He's currently put back the first pair and is looking through the same style in different colour combinations. But then he notices the way the other man turns, pauses, hugs himself, and his expression grows a little more earnest.
"Way I see this place, we gotta do for each other 'cause the city don't do for us. Everything here's set up to make us need other people, get us relying on what bonds we make with 'em. It's maybe not how everyone sees it, maybe just part of how I grew up, but it seems to me we're all of us in this together. What I do for you, in a sense, it ain't for you alone, y'know?"
no subject
A quick flash of memory and Mustang locks it away before his semi-flaccid cock rises into a full-blown erection.
Roy lifts his eyes, looking at the jockstrap the other man holds. He smiles faintly. "Yeah, that's good."
More importantly, he likes Vrenille’s philosophy, so similar to his own. Putting others before himself and helping others is what Roy does best, so he finally recognizes the other man’s motives. It makes Vrenille seem nobler, more respectable in Mustang’s eyes. For the first time since they met one another, Roy extends his hand to shake.
“You’re a good man. It isn’t often that I meet others who think the way I do. It’s an honor to know you, Sir.”
no subject
He doesn't know, of course, what associations or history it calls to mind, but he's already seen, through the occasional flaps on the back of the poorly-closed paper gown, that Mustang has a body very worth...accentuating. Given the situation--the culture shock and general distress and disorientation that anyone's arrival in Duplicity tends to bring them, the way that Mustang had been shackled and dragged through the streets even more brutally than most, how close he'd come to starting off this whole experience with a public flogging--Vrenille has been careful to ring-fence off any of his usual flirtatious banter. He's only just started to try and open the door towards something more light hearted in the energy of the day.
So the fact that Mustang approves of the jockstrap is significant for him. The handshake is too, but perhaps not quite as much as what he says.
Reaching out to take the man's hand in his own, Vrenille lets the moment span a space that begins, first, as an acknowledgment of mutual respect between equals, but then skips and hops and again tests waters they haven't ventured towards yet. "'Sir,' Colonel?" He gives him just the hint of a playful smirk as he says it. "That's a word that carries quite a meaning here, y'know."
It carries a meaning if they agree to let it, if, mutually, it's something they come to terms on. If not, it doesn't need to mean much of anything at all. It could though, if Mustang wants to explore it, wants to play with it, feels safe enough with Vrenille to go there.
What Vrenille is indicating in his smile, his expression, his body language, even the way he keeps the contact of their hands for that moment longer than merely casual, is that on his part, it's a door he's willing to open.
no subject
He does know what the extra few seconds of clasping hands mean. Well, he thinks, smiling at Vrenille, he has a quota to meet. And this fine young man is just the ticket to take his mind off the horrible turn of events in his life.
And, Roy notices, can’t help but notice the other thing Vrenille exudes -- a siren song of seduction. Mustang is helplessly drawn to it, and drawn to him.
Different from the few with which Roy had graced him, a new smile spreads across his face. An invitation can be read there by anyone who looks.
More plainly, Mustang likes the guy. He’s easy on the eyes, not that it’s entirely what sells him. Ultimately, it’s the trust and the rapport they’ve developed to which Roy is attracted, and despite wearing a paper dress, he drops his chin a little and eyes the other man through his lashes. “Tell me what else Sir means.”
no subject
The way that Mustang angles his head, drops his eyes, and then raises his gaze to him through the veil of his lashes, though, makes Vrenille suspect that he probably already knows that, at least on some level. It's the body language of one who's savvy to the little game he's playing, even if he might claim not to be.
Vrenille reaches out a hand to brush his companion's jaw, fingers tracing up along the column of his throat. The invitation is mutual. If Mustang wants to say no now that he's heard the offer, he still can. All he has to do is step back and shift his energy to withdraw. Or he can stay, encourage it, signal his willingness and his want to say yes.
no subject
He can’t help it.
Yet, he doesn’t pull away. Despite the feeling and his initial reaction, Roy is intrigued. He knows how to submit. Hadn’t the military taught him? Hadn’t Heathcliff taught him? Alright, he’d told himself that the Ishvalan made him do it, but Mustang knows damn well that if he hadn’t wanted it himself, no way would he have been able to force him.
Besides, when Vrenille touches him, he closes his eyes and inhales a shuddery breath. It would... feel good to let someone other than he make all the decisions. He wants to see where this will go. It’s just... this ridiculous paper thing he wears tents his erection, making it, god, too obvious.
Then, Mustang no longer cares. He wets his lower lip, leaning into Vrenille and suppressing the impulse to salute. When he speaks, his baritone is quiet, words meant for just the two men. “My will is yours. Sir.”
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"If you need things to stop, genuinely, I want you to say 'red.' Not 'no,' not 'please,' not 'don't' or 'stop.' Say any of those as much as you like, whatever's happening will continue. But if you say 'red,' it'll stop." He looks into his companion's face as he explains this, holding him with his eyes, intense and intent. "All right?"
And then he reaches for the jockstrap that began this whole discussion, passing it to him, "Go into the changing rooms, over there." He nods across the room to a doorway with an attendant who seems to have already noticed them--he's looking in their direction, momentarily making eye contact with Vrenille as though exchanging some silent understanding. "Take this paper thing off 'n put these on, then wait for me in there."
It's a fairly elementary instruction, an easy enough test to pass, but still a little test nonetheless.
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If Mustang feels apprehensive, it’s because what Vrenille asks of him is to control himself and submit not only in body but also in mind.
And he will. He knows this as clearly as his erection juts that much higher.
A mask of his usual confidence settles firmly on his face. Roy gives Vrenille a curt nod and pivots with a sharp, military grace; he makes his way past a salesman to enter a dressing room next to a wall to ensure there’s only one side to which he’ll expose himself.
It’s a relief to remove the paper gown, even knowing he’ll don it again. He just hopes his cock will behave after this. It’s a real concern since he’s twenty-nine and in the midst of his sexual prime. Mustang hangs the gown up neatly before reclaiming the jockstrap and eases it on one leg at a time.
Now he waits, pressing his hands flat against the mirror, looking at himself. He can’t wait to be taken, to revel in Vrenille’s golden skin flush against the paleness of his own.
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Vrenille watches Mustang head towards the changing room for a moment, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile he can't quite suppress, and then goes to speak to a clerk to arrange and agree a few things, giving his assurance that all bills will be properly paid for.
He then makes a fairly quick sweep of the shop, picking up a few things along the way. Given that this is a shop in Duplicity, it inevitably has a small section for sex toys and other essentials, much the way that clothing shops tend to stock a few accessories.
All of this means that Mustang is made to wait. Not terribly long, not long enough to get bored, but long enough to make the anticipation and the uncertainty grow. Long enough to make him wonder, maybe make him a little restless, and thereby test his self-control in waiting.
When Vrenille does arrive, having been told with a nod by the attendant which of the rooms contains "his" submissive, he pulls the curtain back without much concern at all for modesty or privacy. He's got a few pairs of jeans folded in one arm, and he drops them onto the bench at one side of the cubicle, his focus fixed on Mustang--the picture he cuts in the mirror and the view from behind. It's a very good, well-chosen posture.
Moving a step closer behind the man, Vrenille reaches out to graze his fingertips along his back, from the muscles between his shoulder blades down along its natural arch, then lower, over the curve of his backside and down to the back of one thigh, feeling the fine down of hair against his fingers. The whole time he watches his face in the mirror, his expression.
"Mmm, yeah, these do suit you nice, don't they." His eyes drop, noticeably, down the front of the man's reflection, "And look at you straining against 'em already." He leans in, voice low and husky in Mustang's ear, "So eager for what I'm gonna do to you."
He hasn't bothered to pull the curtain closed behind them.
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Anything.
The longer he’s kept waiting, the harder his cock seems to grow, and the jockstrap is uncomfortable enough for Mustang to unconsciously shift his weight from one foot to the other without actually lifting them. He’s losing his concentration when Vrenille enters.
...and doesn’t close the curtain.
Mustang is adrift, swallowed by his need and pride (or is that shame?), but his cock doesn’t care, especially when the other man touches him. The muscles of his back shudder and spasm, following the line of Vrenille’s fingers. He can’t believe how incredibly sensitized he is and just swims in the contact, surprised and enjoying the experience.
A moan Roy never meant to voice rolls from his throat when Vrenille mentions the state of his arousal, and he leans back a bit, wanting more contact.
Anything.
Should he ask? Well, it’s not as though Vrenille told him not to speak. Mustang arches his back, clenching the bottom of his ass and making it protrude just a touch. “Move closer to me,” Roy whispers.
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For now the man is going to have to endure this--the way he's exposed, the vulnerability of standing like this without the security of Vrenille's body to warm or shield him. If anything, the way Vrenille's gaze travels across his skin might be a formula to make him feel even more bare. He makes a little mental map: scars, birthmarks, brands--nothing else that looks like the symbol on the back of his hand, but there is the sign of a substantial old wound on one flank. He doesn't remark on it, doesn't ask; he does notice though.
Now's not the time for talking about war wounds though, not when his hand is dipping between the man's thighs, fingers edging forward to his taint, and then to cup his balls through the fabric of the jockstrap.
"You're gonna have to be patient," he goes on talking, letting his breath stir Mustang's hair as his thumb stretches back again, moving in the direction of the man's hole, just reaching it with the pad of his thumb and lightly resting on the surface. "This is such a nice view, I reckon I'm gonna wanna take my time."
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When Vrenille refuses to come closer, Roy gave him an order the Colonel in him insists, a dangerous thread of anger stitches itself across the ends of his fingers. He breathes then, trying to think through the haze of excitement, remind himself that the man represents an Admiral in this world. That he compliments Roy’s looks thereafter bolsters his ego enough to mollify him momentarily.
Mustang inhales audibly when he’s touched at the very root of his cock, and he steps one foot and then the second to each side, widening his legs that much more, too lost now to even think of what could be seen by anyone else. His breath actually hitches as his balls are grasped, his breathing quickens. Roy throws his head back, unconsciously exposing his throat. In the urgency of his need, he growls, swallowing, eyes closed.
“I’m going to-, he says and strangles the complaint, thinking he’s going to shoot his wad all over the mirror.
nsfw sex toy pic in link
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