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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!! |
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Roy drinks him in for a moment. Vrenille is diabolical in exactly the right way.
“A reward, huh?” he teases, calming enough to flirt a bit. He drops his gaze and watches the youth from behind hooded lids.
Roy releases his breath in a quiet sigh when Vrenille verbally discards the jeans Roy had struggled so hard to put on. The smile fades, and nimble, angry fingers release buttons one by one. Delicately, he eases the pants off and stops himself when he has to breathe, breathe, breathe. He steps out and folds them militarily crisp.
It takes all his concentration to inch closer to the bench, where he leaves the rejected garb. Mustang stops to think, to regain a measure of control as his eyes flit swiftly to the pile of new jeans, deciding to chance walking incrementally faster. For all that his decisions are too quick to acknowledge, his cock allows only a methodical, fresh approach to movement. He uses the tricks necessary to get to the next pair, returning to his spot before the mirror. Roy knows by now that Vrenille won’t consent to him cheating by hovering next to the bench.
Even knowing he’s allowed to beg or plead or say ‘red,’ Mustang's pride refuses to allow it.
Stupid pride, he thinks, carefully sliding his legs into the next set, hesitating when he comprehends the purpose of this particular pair. They’re too tight, and he suspects Vrenille knows it. Sighing audibly this time, Mustang bends over to tug them up onto his thighs and hips. Anticipation and pressure make his cock throb all the more, painfully so. His balls ache; they feel heavy somehow and speed the rate of his breathing.
Roy fiercely wrenches his focus back to reduce the speed of his racing heart. Every beat throbs. It hurts and, otherwise, doesn't affect his pleasure at all.
The promised reward better be worth it, Mustang almost snaps. His teeth click together when he stops himself from voicing a complaint.
Roy wriggles his hips, the jeans unpeeling as he rolls them up and over his ass. Huffs his breath like the women giving birth at his aunt’s bordello. Sweat soaks the tendrils of hair at his temples as he meticulously buttons and zips the fly.
He doesn’t move, choosing to keep his eyes on himself and the impossibly colossal, strangely shaped bulge popping out of the fabric. But one burning issue needs to be aired, and Mustang's breath hitches when he continues because it's important. “This is degrading, you know," he says, tugging at the waistband with his thumb. "These are women's jeans.”
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When it comes to the charge of degradation and putting Mustang into women's jeans, Vrenille doesn't look even a little abashed.
"Nah they're not," he says with a casual nonchalance that's probably incredibly frustrating. He doesn't feel much need to strongly defend himself from the accusations since feminisation is not one of his kinks. He's not a man who harbours some secret fascination for the accoutrements of femininity.
"You do look real shapely in 'em though." His smile gets that little bit more teasing as he uncrosses his legs and shifts to sit forward, elbows on his knees.
"C'mere," it's only a couple of small steps between them. Even rock hard and with the toy in his ass and wearing denim that's a size too small, Mustang should be able to manage that.
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When the golden youth beckons Roy over, he remembers the irresistible offer of a reward, and he can’t wait to be blown, can’t wait to be taken over, to be thoroughly fucked. Mmm. Not that he’ll last very long.
But that’s not on him.
With mincing steps, he makes his way to Vrenille and smiles, standing over him, planting his hand against the wall behind the other man, his dick hovering before the other’s face.
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The jury's still out on that question as he raises a hand to cup the other man's hardness through the tight confines of the jeans, letting the heat of his palm and his fingers transfer through the denim, just a bit of steady pressure but no friction. He looks up at him from his seated spot, the vantage point giving him a view of Mustang's stomach, the contours of his pecs, the lovely expanse of bare skin above him.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he teases, "was there something you wanted?" He undoes the top button on the jeans that Mustang just worked so hard to do up, smiling up at him sweetly.
Obviously he knows very well what the man wants. His bulge is clearly just inches away from Vrenille's mouth as is, and with the top button open, the crown of his cock is already peaking out from the waistband. He's not just going to service him because he comes over and presents his erection though. That's not at all how this D/s thing goes.
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Then he stops -- altogether. Even though it’s a struggle, he’s used to masking his emotions. The smile doesn’t waver. The youth lifts his hand and just cups him. Mustang closes his eyes, drawing in a trembling moan, abruptly opening them after that, averting his eyes to focus on the people shopping. He breathes, and it cools him down a smidgen.
Ah. Then the other man has the gall to tease him. On the one hand, it’s the perfect thing to say.
Still, he’s desperate and torn between focusing on his raging need and the joy of banter. Vrenille is adorable like this -- looking up at him with that gorgeous-stupid smile. Mustang almost resents the swell of affection he feels for the man. The golden-skinned, blue-eyed, dark-haired man who teases him so mercilessly.
Almost.
He comes tremblingly close to blurting out, ‘Just put it in your mouth, moron,’ but doesn’t. He keeps his cool because he’s the damn Flame Alchemist, and he will not lose this encounter. Refuses to.
So, instead of shouting at him, or worse, begging, Roy imparts to Vrenille a tiny smile. “Too cocky for you?”
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He's playing off multiple meanings there, since cocky is one of the first words people tend to use for a number of people he's close to, not least of all his best friend and one of his most frequent lovers here. Vrenille could be accused of having a weakness for cocky men. But it's just as true that he's not backing down from any sort of a challenge here--so long as things are still in the realm of human anatomy, he rarely deems anything too much cock. And while he may not be expressly trying the make Mustang lose his cool, he is trying to press and test to find his edge.
"Does sorta beg the question though: if I help you relieve this, uh, difficulty you're having here," he edges the zip down carefully with one hand while the other continues to cup the man's hardness through the denim from below, "just what are we setting you up for? 'Cause you sure ain't just gonna be done with that. I mean, I'm not taking that toy outta your ass just 'cause you cum. You're gonna go on wearing it til I say otherwise. And probably that'll be a whole nother round."
He's got the zip all the way down now, the front of the jeans parted so that the blue of the underwear stretched across Mustang's shaft is visible beneath. "Guess maybe the real question's what your refractory period like?"
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Hell. Vrenille's a damn tease; that's the real issue here. He opens Mustang's fly as though relenting, then... nothing, but that much more teasing. Watching the man eye him is definitely sexy but annoying. Again, irritation and arousal shoot through him, and he's confident he won't last another minute.
He needs to keep his cool. It's becoming something of a mantra. I need to keep my cool. I am the Flame Alchemist, and I will win this encounter.
While he's never heard the words 'refractory' or 'period' in quite this context and never together, it's easy enough to intuit. Upon calming himself down somewhat, Mustang gives the question some thought. He's a young, virile man, and he must admit that all this is embarrassing, how easily aroused he's been. Typically, it takes. Had he ever really taken count?
"If I understand your meaning, I'd guess it generally takes around thirty to forty minutes to get hard again. But these aren't normal circumstances, this prostate massager thing... I'm not used to it." Roy answers with complete honesty.
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All right, it's not really, but it is one that would make Vrenille laugh if he knew. He certainly is teasing, but it's all in the service of ultimate satisfaction, a process for extending pleasure, making it into an art form that can work and play in the world of Duplicity's Dom/sub roles.
Many men though, he's learned in the time he's been here, come in with no sense of know-how in this department. They pursue sex as the quickest path from arousal to orgasm and find it maddening when someone like him takes them on a more circuitous route, introduces them to pathways for enjoying they haven't considered before. And from that perspective, if he knew what Mustang was thinking, he'd probably challenge him to say precisely what counts as "winning" vs "losing" here.
As it stands, he's just taking his time, now running a hand up the man's stomach and towards his pecs, feeling the plane and contour of muscles, fingers pausing to roll over one nipple as he says, still quite conversationally, "Well I'd say that sounds like a reason to experiment. Give you a chance to show me what you can do."
His hands travel south again and, without preamble, he takes hold of the waist of the jeans and yanks them roughly down over Mustang's ass till they're low around his thighs, leaving his legs trapped by the material. Then he shifts the fabric of the jockstrap to one side, taking the man's cock and balls out from its confines before reaching a hand around his backside and finding the top arm of the massager with one finger, rocking it just a little inside him.
"Tell me what you want. Ask me nicely."
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Instead, he gives in to the warmth of Vrenille’s hands, his fingers making him tremble, a shuddering moan escaping his throat. He looks over at the mirror and almost smiles at the contrast between the colors of their skin. The man has the voice of a velvet ribbon, and Roy, caught in the depths of its tangles, sweats openly now, fearful he might drown.
Experiment? Show him what I can--. What? Does he want a blowjob now? He must know what that would do to Roy. After all of this, the last thing he wants to do is ejaculate on his belly.
Adrenaline tears through his system, hitting him directly in the diaphragm, jolting him back to the game they’re playing. Roy sees the sunset of his victory sinking behind the horizon of inevitability. Then Roy ardently, almost viciously, calls to mind the smell of burning corpses to steady himself. Oh, and it’s a good thing, too, he realizes, because those hands slide downward, and Mustang can’t suppress the short, sharp inhalation at Vrenille’s touch.
Vrenille asks him what he wants, and just like that, it seems to Roy his victory may just have been handed to him. He’s calmer, the pain and the intense pleasure mingling gently within and without. Roy can even smile at this point, tilting it just so in what he knows is his most charming.
“I want you to fuck me fast and rough and senseless.” He waits a beat, remembering the caveat. “Please.”
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At the moment, Vrenille simply receives the request with a mild expression of assessment, like a man at a business negotiation weighing what's on offer and whether he wants to accept or counter, whether the package he's being handed contains everything he's wanting.
Of course from one perspective it very much does, because he's already hard in his jeans and he certainly has every intention of fucking Mustang, and yes, the request has been as polite as you please. Compared with Mustang, however, Vrenille is a man with a lot of very regular sexual outlets, so he's not driven by the same level of near-desperate urgency. He can take his time--in fact he enjoys taking his time, drawing out the foreplay for as long as possible.
So his answer, ultimately, is a thoughtful, "Hm. Not yet."
And then, before the man has a chance to hit the roof at the refusal, Vrenille's taking Mustang's cock into his mouth, soft warm lips wrapping around the head and one hand on his hip to steady him as the other stays cupping his backside, forefinger hooked on the rounded tab at the end of the massager, currently still but ready to rock it inside him whenever he chooses.
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The heady swell of victory is almost as intense as the sensation of Vrenille’s mouth, the wet pressure surrounding him. As incredible as it all feels, Mustang finds himself a little conflicted. He’d thought he’d shoot his wad the first chance he had, but it’s as though he doesn’t want to let the other man down. It’s a considerable effort to keep it from happening; he concentrates on his breathing, and when that comes perilously close to failing him, Roy alters his tactics by replaying memories of a faraway desert he knows.
That fuckable mouth he’s in, its hot tongue curled beneath the head of his cock tempts him into pressing it just a bit deeper, as deep as he dares. As much as he wants to plunge in balls deep, he doesn’t, unwilling to cross a boundary and have Vrenille pull away from him altogether.
Hell, no. He can’t think of that, almost cumming at the idea. Mustang bites his lower lip, and when his eyes close, he envisions nights of crackling fire as it reaches to the heavens and still feels how incredibly talented the other man’s mouth can be.
It’s all rather embarrassing. He hasn’t been this randy since around seventeen, eighteen-years-old. This crazy youth, crazy world, and its crazy toys.
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He doesn't offer his throat for this--he could, but it's not the sort of thing he'd prefer to be seen doing in public given how some people might interpret the inherent yielding of that sort of act, but he does nonetheless take Mustang's shaft right to the root of his tongue before sliding back and slowly beginning to bob his head.
From the way he uses his tongue, the steady pace and rolling motion that he sets, it's probably clear that he's sucked a lot of dick. So he's not really expecting Mustang to last all that long. Given the steps they've established to get here, he wouldn't expect him to last long even if he didn't have the additional stimulation of the prostate massager. But then Vrenille starts to rock it inside of him, like a little lever, so that every time he bobs his head forward, his finger pushes up just a bit, making the head of the massager press down against the man's prostate, and every time he bobs his head back, his finger tugs pulls just slightly down, so that the lower arm angles up to press his taint.
Probably not a very fair "contest," really, but then in their ongoing power play, this is still an act of domination, even if it's one arranged with Mustang's cock in Vrenille's mouth. In the end, he's not giving Mustang a whole lot of choice about it--everything now is designed to make him cum in very short order.
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It’s when the prostate massager rocks back and forth, hitting that sweet spot inside him, echoed by a similar sensation at his perineum that makes his ass flex, that he drops his weight on both hands when they hit the wall above Vrenille.
If the man doesn’t want him to cum, then he shouldn’t be doing such a good job sucking him off and rocking that massager inside him so gleefully. A beat later, and a slow but virulent orgasm twists through his body, clenching Roy’s thighs, straightening his back, and his hips snap, pumping, and snap again. He can feel the contents of his balls surge through his cock, the orgasm wrapping around his spine, and he bites his tongue in lieu of crying out.
It lasts a long time. Roy’s entire body sags.
He breathes and growls good-naturedly, “Thanks, Vrenille. That was... nice.”
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He doesn't pull off the whole time, taking spurt after spurt right to the back of his tongue, throat working to swallow down the thickness, the bitter-salt taste spreading in his mouth. And he caries on sucking him right through the aftershocks, one hand coming to the base of Mustang's shaft, helping to squeeze the final drops out of him.
The long finish gives him time to swallow all the traces properly, and when he finally lets Mustang's cock slip from its temporary home between his lips, he's clean and subsiding, ready to be tucked right back into that jockstrap, which is precisely what Vrenille does with him, the prostate massager still nestled securely in its place.
Unbeknownst to them both, some shop clerk has discreetly placed a bottle of water and a little packet of wet wipes in the cubicle beside them, having apparently been and gone at some point between the blowjob's start and its finish. And of course the curtain to the changing room is still open. No one's looking their way just now, but it's not hard to guess that they would have been not long before.
Cracking open the bottle of water, Vrenille takes a swig to wash Mustang's semen down. Inevitably though, he can still feel traces of it clinging in the back of his throat. He looks, frankly, very pleased with himself.
"You're welcome. I think you needed that," he grins, a hand going to his own lap to adjust the bulge in his jeans again. He was throbbing deliciously the whole time he sucked Mustang off, but he's still got some way to go on his own much slower journey to release. "Dunno how you'd have gotten through the way I'm gonna fuck you later without it."
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He can’t wait for another round. His cock even stirs, if only mildly.
The man is good at what he does, Mustang has to admit. Whether he won (or not), the competition doesn’t even matter anymore because either way, Mustang did win. Meeting an incredible sex partner is always cause for celebration and never to be taken for granted.
Maybe.
He’s a confident man and knows his looks, charm, and charisma go far in terms of sex appeal, but Vrenille knows what he’s doing in a league Mustang could never aspire to. It would take much more than three times a month to learn techniques such as those he’s just experienced, and based on what he saw at the gallery, Roy guesses he’s merely scratching the surface of sexual techniques of which he’s plainly ignorant.
Even so, he’s having a great deal of fun. Mustang clears his throat to answer the man. “You’re right; I did.”
When he hears what Vrenille has to say next, he laughs, delighted. Mustang smiles just so, dropping his voice deep, allowing it to roll out seductively. “Are you really? Hmm. Should we finish shopping first?” Roy asks, eyes drawn to the bulge in Vrenille’s pants, licking his lower lip to make it wet and shiny. “Do you have a specific place in mind? The bathroom at the restaurant or is the local street corner more your style?”
Mustang assumes that, since the jeans are a bust, it's alright to take them off. After all, they haven't established that he needs to discuss every move he makes. That would be taking it too far.
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With a smile, he gives Mustang a good-natured swat on the hip, "Hell yeah we should finish shopping. I told these guys I was gonna buy you a whole outfit. Can't have you walking 'round the city in a paper dress in sub-zero weather."
That makes Mustang's initiative to take off the last pair of jeans spot on. There's still another pair for him to try, after all. And if those are no good then there are clerks waiting to serve them.
"What makes you think it's gonna be anywhere 'sides right here?" he teases as he watches the man move, cocking his head a little as he appreciates the view.
"I think the fellows out there on the shop floor'd probably enjoy the show too. Give 'em all a little bonus something to take home from work today, maybe jerk themselves off tonight to the image of you. I mean, letting you cum in my mouth's one thing, but you're gonna sound incredible with my cock in you. Not gonna be anyone in this whole shop who won't hear, won't know exactly what's happening to you."
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Gathering the final pair of jeans, Mustang slips a leg in one side and the other, marveling at the clever toy he wears and pulling the waistline up and over his ass.
He’ll take it easy and avoid as much self-stimulation as he can. Already aroused and in no hurry to endure a second round of triggering himself with memories of Ishval, Roy buttons the fly, smiling at the fit of the pants, admiring himself in the mirror.
Then he turns to Vrenille, who looks relaxed and sexy in the seat beside him. “Hmm. I didn’t take you for the type of man who enjoys static; in fact, I had you pegged as a kind of butterfly. You know, someone who prefers to visit flower after flower. Am I wrong?”
His question is serious, but he keeps the tone light. Mischief glitters in his eyes. Roy deliberately tilts his hips forward, striking a pose that never fails to draw the attention of the ladies in the vicinity. “Do you like the jeans?”
When Vrenille describes his plans to fuck Roy right here, blood surges into his cock. Damn the man. He’s just so incredibly sexy. For all that Roy is overwhelmed, he doesn’t falter. He cringes inwardly, the question on his tongue burning with shame that he needs to ask it. “How do you feel about greatcoats? They’re good in this kind of weather. I hope you know that I will pay you back for all of it.”
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As far as him visiting flower after flower though, he takes the comparison with some consideration--it's not entirely wrong, but not quite right either.
"I've banged almost every one of my friends at least once, if that's what you mean. Whether I keep on going 'n hook up with 'em on the regular, that all depends. There's plenty of times, though, when guys come 'n see me 'stead of the other way round. Maybe that's, uh, particular to Duplicity." Which is to say that, before he came here he perhaps was a bit more butterfly-like, whereas since he's been here, for reasons he's barely even begun to allude to, things have changed.
Then Mustang strikes his pose, and Vrenille gets to his feet. Between his vantage point and the reflection in the dressing room mirror, he's able to see how well this latest pair of jeans fits from all angles, and it's spot on. One might even say inspiring.
It inspires him, in fact, to get to his feet and step up at Mustang's back nice and close, pressing his hips against his backside, hands coming to his hip points to hold him steady and close. It's a position that snugs the hard bulge in his pants right against the centre seam of the denim, lets Mustang feel just how turned on he is.
"They're perfect."
The jeans, yes, but also the two of them standing there cut a fantastic picture together--Mustang half dressed, his bare, shirtless chest displaying all the contours of well-toned muscle, and Vrenille standing behind him in the dark-coloured button down he chose for Galleria duty, coat discarded on the bench.
For a moment, he glances past their reflection to catch the gaze of a shop clerk watching, seeming to communicate something with a little nod. And then, his attention back on Mustang, he nuzzles his lips and his nose against the nape of the man's neck, breathing in the scent of his dark hair.
"Greatcoats? Is that the fashion where you're from? I mean, I was thinking maybe something shearling-lined, but..." He's teasing a bit. If Mustang wants a greatcoat Vrenille has no objection. He doesn't say a word about repayment because he's honestly not worried, and the truth is that in this place Mustang might struggle on that front, but he doesn't want to spoil to moment with that unpleasant truth.
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He’d known, knew from the beginning how striking the contrast of their skin would appear and oh! Mustang has waited for this. He’s happy, and it goes straight to his cock, and he doesn’t care. Roy looks at the both of them in the mirror and groans, his breath shuddering when Vrenille kisses and nuzzles the nape of his neck. It’s a particular erogenous zone for the colonel, pulling another moan from his throat, and he’s near purring with the joy of it.
Mustang allows himself to close his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of Vrenille’s body against his, his erection hard against his ass -- a promise of what was yet to come. To say he isn’t excited and horny would be an obvious lie.
Looking at Vrenille quickly becomes an obsession -- and Roy observes signals the men give one another. However, he can’t know what they mean, only that they’re passing tidbits of information in a physical language may take Roy weeks to decode, and he doesn’t have the time. Still, it’s fascinating to watch, so he continues.
That the other man agrees with his choice of jeans somehow makes Roy a touch prouder of himself, as if he needs the man’s goodwill.
Finally, Vrenille gives him the answer to the question that shamed Mustang. He’s a little desperate but calms himself with his determination to repay the man, and he will. With interest because that’s who he is.
A final twist of his hips and Mustang smiles at the man's teasing lilt, answering Vrenille's question. “I suppose so, but I'm no slave to fashion. I like what I like.”
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And maybe that makes it a testament to his self control that he's able to think beyond pulling Mustang's jeans down and taking his ass right now. Timing is everything, though, and this game they're playing isn't ready to enter its fourth quarter just yet. They have Mustang's whole upper body to clothe first, and right on cue, the wardrobe options begin to arrive.
It's an answer to what that look which Vrenille flashed to the shop clerk meant all along, one of the things he'd arranged in the interval before he first met Mustang in the changing room: when he indicated they were ready, Vrenille had instructed, the clerk was to start bringing them outfit options for "his submissive" to try. And that's what's happening now--a number of shirts, some folded and some on hangers delivered neatly into the cubicle, the rejected jeans being taken away.
Vrenille places one last kiss on Mustang's neck before he steps back, taking his seat again. "Go ahead, show me what you like."
Of course every move, every garment the man tries, is going to be a little reminder of that toy that's still in his ass at Vrenille's behest.
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Mustang turns his attention to the shirts on the hangers. They're a riot of colors that Hughes might wear, but Roy's been raised as a gentleman and prefers traditional white. Mustang concentrates as he shuffles through them, mildly frustrated when he doesn't find what he wants.
Roy bends his knees to go through those shirts that are folded in a few piles and can't help noticing the movement rocks the toy inside of him, outside of him, and a quiet moan surprises him when it escapes his throat. Roy sighs quietly, unwilling to share that the toy's stimulation is arousing him again and so quickly, albeit on a much more comfortable level.
White, white, white... This shop doesn't have any white button-ups as far as he can see. It doesn't matter, he supposes. Once he gets home, he can always transmute the color out of the cloth. He even considers getting a different color to try, and bending over, grits his teeth almost fiercely against the surge of blood rushing to his crotch.
What is it about this toy? Mustang has had plenty of prostate orgasms -- he just orgasmed moments before -- so why or what had him on the edge of yet another?
He breathed carefully as he bent over, concentrating on choosing a different color. The pale pink shirt caught his fancy, but when he lay the cloth across the paleness of his skin, it just didn't look right, washing the color from his face.
Ultimately, Roy chose a dark blue shirt which he slid on and buttoned up immediately. He liked how it looked, noting to himself to buy a cobalt scarf next time he visited here. He didn't even notice that he squirmed through most of his fitting and turned to Vrenille. "What do you think about this?"
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By the time Mustang is dressed, he's therefore feeling plenty ready to take his own enjoyment ahead one more step.
"Suits you good," he says. "Blue's a nice colour on you." And it's going to be a nice colour off of him as well, Vrenille thinks, and in very short order.
He makes a gesture to the clerk who, hurrying in, gathers up the clothes that didn't make the cut, exiting with them as quickly as they came.
"Now," Vrenille says, his gaze stormy with want as he looks at Mustang still standing there before the mirror, "take it off again. Show me."
He wants to be given a little show, in other words, which means that anyone else with a view through the open curtain will be given a view too, and there are at least one or two other patrons in the shop now who have paused by this rack or that one where they happen to have a good vantage point, so Mustang's got a few different men's eyes on him already.
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Some tiny part of him reminds Roy that it’s just sex, and while he’s here, there’s no real reason to hide the person he is. It’s not as though he’s done a particularly good job in that arena anyway.
Vrenille speaks, and for a moment, Mustang doesn’t even hear what he says, just locks his gaze on the man’s eyes, seeing nothing sheltering his need, not anymore. He can’t be entirely sure if there ever was, but a second later, the words change shape enough for him to comprehend what’s been said.
What? After putting three pair of pants on for this crowd and pulling off two, he wants...
No. The man’s buying him clothes and that’s not even the point. He guesses he hadn’t thought through how deep this dominant/submissive thing went. It doesn’t matter how confident he might be (and he is an extremely confident man, he thinks with some satisfaction), no one wants to put on a show for a bunch of strangers. Do they? Did he?
Well, it’s not as though he hadn’t agreed to it all. This kid has charisma oozing out of his...
“Alright.” He may as well enjoy it. Humming the music to a strip tease ditty, Mustang smiles, slow as he unbuttons each closure on the shirt, wriggling each shoulder as he glides his arms out of each sleeve and ends by tossing the piece of cloth over Vrenille’s head. When he undoes the studs on the pair of jeans, he’s quick to pull them off of his legs to his ankles, overemphasizing the bend at his waist, flexing and relaxing each level of his abdominal muscles just to show off.
He finishes by stepping out of the pants and throwing those, too, but over toward the bench.
“I hope I get extra points for creativity,” he says, thinking he hasn’t been remotely creative, but you never knew with what you might be faced in a different culture.
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Mustang has successfully demonstrated how fit and flexible he is though, and those are both things Vrenille appreciates. He's sure their audience appreciates them too.
He's got the front of his jeans open by the time Mustang's stripping his pants off, the little bottle of lube he brought in with him ready to hand. Admittedly, Vrenille's underwear choice for today is a bit more on the nose than anything he'd usually opt for, what with the word MASTER emblazoned on the waistband and all, but he had dressed for his role at the Galleria of Sex knowing that almost anything might happen and he might be called on to play the part. It's turned out that he's going to be playing it rather differently, but still in a scene that makes it no less appropriate.
What's probably most notable though is how the soft mesh of the material puts his cock on display already, stretching to accommodate his hardness, and showing him off even before he moves to stand, stepping over towards Mustang.
"Hoping maybe your adoring fans'll stuff some extra dollars in your waistband for shaking your ass so good?" he teases, moving up nice and close so that he's standing nearly nose to nose with Mustang, not touching, but well within his personal space.
"'Course then I'd have to send you out on a circuit all 'round the shop collecting tips. Probably be sweet torture for you with that toy in your ass, making you harder 'n harder every step. And here you just came," he tuts in mock scolding, "but you're getting primed to take my cock already."
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What the man says next seems to a playful way to tease him, but Roy’s dignity, what was left of it, insists he take a stand against this. It’s too much, too bizarre and shameful to allow anyone to make him do. He comes close to saying ‘red’, but if he’s learned anything about the Vrenille, it’s that he’s honest. So, he takes his teasing words at face value, answering him with teasing of his own, his expression returning to a smirk.
I knew you were a pimp. Sir.
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