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duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #22
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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 highrise. 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. Winter is here and snow flurries are common in the Up while the slush collects in the Down. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. |
 As a particularly heavy snowstorm blows across the city, Duplicity finds itself blanketed in white. The morning after the storm, many citizens seem to be in a particularly mischievous mood and snowballs are a common sight flying through the air. A projectile meant for someone else may hit you square in the face if you're not careful — and then it's on. Joining these impromptu snow battles is encouraged, no matter a person's designation, and even Submissives teaming up to pelt unsuspecting Dominants with snowballs is generally taken in the spirit of good fun. Not everyone is throwing snow, of course — some are rolling much larger balls and shaping them into lewd snow figures. Those feeling chilled after playing in the snow may experience the urge to warm up with someone else, skin to skin. Whether they're a stranger or a familiar face, holding hands, kissing, or getting down and dirty with the nearest willing partner is invigorating. It might even be the only way to really feel warm again. |
 (cw: aphro, humiliation kink) Want to make some quick cash? After exiting the train in the Down, there seems to be a questionable character hanging about the station. Dressed in a trenchcoat and looking more like a flasher than the businessman he claims to be, this shady recruiter offers easy money in exchange for a simple delivery. Just take a package and drop it off at the address on the label. Really, that's it! Stop asking questions. Should characters decide to open the package themselves instead, they'll discover one of the following: glitter — so much glitter, lube (appears normal, but actually contains hot pepper and will cause more than a mild tingling sensation if used anywhere sensitive), a package of flavored condoms mysteriously labeled "every flavor" (none of them taste good), candy or perfume containing an aphrodisiac that, in addition to the usual libido-boosting effect, will also cause an intense craving for humiliation. It seems to be one of those services that allows one to send anonymous prank gifts, and they're hiding behind LIERs as couriers. There's no return address or company information on or inside the package, except for a card marked Encoded Sin Corp — which does not seem to be a real company if the name is searched. Whether characters end up delivering the package — maybe even to a fellow LIER — or get into some trouble along the way, someone is getting a nasty surprise. |
 (cw: aphro, dubcon, excessive fluids, exhibitionism, public use)A small winter market has been set up along one of the major streets in the Up with stalls selling a variety of goods ranging from knitted hats and scarves, soaps, scented lotions, candles, jewelry, artwork and assorted crafts to hand-dyed bondage rope and kinky leather accessories. Food and drink stands are plentiful as well. Strings of lights crisscross the street between the roofs of the shops, providing a cheerful glow, and there are tables set up in the street itself for people to sit and chat while having a snack — if they can stand the cold. Some of the most popular treats being sold are hot chocolate, eggnog, marshmallow snowmen, and sugar cookies decorated like snowflakes. Of course, their popularity may have something to do with the effects they produce when consumed. • The hot chocolate simply gets one all hot and bothered. • The eggnog may cause heavy production of sexual fluids, a desire to be filled or covered with someone else's cream, or all of the above. • The marshmallow snowmen will make those who eat them want to invite others to use them as they please, desiring nothing more than to be molded into the perfect fucktoy. • The sugar cookies seem to induce all sorts of different cravings — after all, no two snowflakes are alike! These effects tend to last at least an hour and may, in some cases, last up to a full day. One of the jewelry shops sells an unusual selection of compass pendants and bracelets. The compass arrows spin round and round lazily while the pieces are on display. Once worn, however, that changes. The arrow will settle on a direction, but instead of pointing north it will lead directly to another person. Perhaps you should speak to them? You may even begin to feel magnetically drawn to them yourself… In the event that two people have compasses that point them at each other, the attraction will be even stronger — nearly impossible to deny. There is another shop which sells intricately designed pocket watches and small clocks. When these timepieces are stared at for an extended length of time or picked up and handled, characters will feel a brief but strong connection to their past and experience a vivid flashback to some moment that was, in whatever way, meaningful for them. After reliving the memory, they will feel compelled to speak about it to whoever is nearby. |
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 likes it hot, they are a Dominant. If your character prefers the cold, they are a Submissive. 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! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
netflix n hand stuff......
(What would you call that, he wonders? Not homesickness, not nostalgia... so, what? Irving can't think of a word that feels appropriate.)
At any rate, Irving is also glad to see Cheol-gang smile, because the man is rather intimidatingly stern otherwise, and even more so difficult for him to read. ]
Oh--
[ Eyebrows raising in mild surprise, Irving looks down at himself, touching the front of his greatcoat as if noticing the condition of it for the first time. ]
Yes, well, I suppose they must have, when they first brought me in-- I certainly haven't worn a uniform that looked this new in years. Probably couldn't even tell you how many. [ He laughs a little, friendly and self-effacing. ] They do seem rather skilled at that sort of thing here, surprisingly... I'd also been somewhat ill before, but now I feel almost completely recovered.
ive never written a manspreader before. this tag made me physically ill
Well. You certainly seem to be doing better.
[ It's a compliment— though Irving doesn't necessarily look robust, Cheol-gang doesn't see in him the same dullness that he stared at every time he shaved in basic training; he lacks the expression of a man about to faint in the sort of anemic fit that marked his own first few months of service, though he has no doubt that Irving must have come close by the end of things.
He's pulled from his thoughts by the slow, unmistakable screech of a train dropping speed and eventually halting; for once the platform isn't too crowded, probably because most people would rather be inside—though he is finally starting to warm up, at least somewhat. He makes himself comfortable against the window as Irving sits down next to him, knees angled outward, one barely brushing his companion's own as he gets settled.
...If they wanted to, they'd probably have time to work toward meeting quota after they finish their food—Cheol-gang didn't really plan anything after this outing, a deviation from the norm he chooses not to think about. He also doesn't think about the warmth of Irving's leg against his own, or at least doesn't allow it to eclipse his conscious line of thought. He glances down at the cup in his still-gloved hands. ]
The cocoa is good. Better than I assumed it would be from a place like this.
no subject
He smiles, a small, polite one this time, since he can only assume politeness is the only thing behind that comment, as well. ]
I do feel it.
[ His knees, in contrast, are drawn in, one leg slung primly over the other with his hand -- the one not holding his hot chocolate -- rested atop the knee. Being on the train makes him feel a bit restless, if he's honest, like he's sitting still while the world moves around him, which makes Irving feel irrationally helpless. In the Arctic he and the rest of them had likely walked the equivalent of Duplicity's entire square mileage, and though his body might understand he could certainly use the rest now, his brain doesn't quite seem to have caught up to that logic yet.
Irving takes another sip of his cocoa, distracting himself with the view beyond the train window, before he starts to notice a faint stirring within himself-- a flutter of heat, tingling, in his chest and also lower, although it's still easy enough not to think much of it yet. ]
It is, isn't it? [ A more genuine smile, as he drinks again. ] I might even go so far as to say it may be even better than most of the cocoa I've had in England.
no subject
He feels himself gradually thawing out with the combined effect of the temperature-controlled train car and the hot drink, enough so that he undoes the first few buttons of his overcoat before breaking off one of the arms of the confectionery snowflake—though 'snowflake' is a rather generous assumption of its ambiguously mushrooming shape. He studies his companion as he crunches, head barely canted to one side: the last time they met to work toward quota was enjoyable, much more than he thought this sort of thing would be when he first set foot in the Up. It'd be a pretty good use of their time to do that again.
And, really, he's been holding back - he could've been more forceful when Irving urged him to. He'd probably like that. Honestly, there's a possibility that that might be even more gratifying than deliberately withholding from him.
Cheol-gang speaks up, keeping his voice low—he's not interested in being overheard, from a sexual standpoint or otherwise, and he knows Irving feels similarly. ]
Have you met January's quota, Lieutenant?
no subject
Just to imagine it: better than England's. Incredible.
Irving catches the movement in his peripheral vision and glances over as Cheol-gang is eating a piece of the snowflake cookie, ears going a bit red when the two men accidentally make brief eye contact, which Irving then prolongs by a few more seconds so that it won't appear as if he's been "caught" staring, even though it certainly feels that way. His imagination (thanks to the hot chocolate) is already running a little wilder than he knows it should, mind getting ahead of itself as he feels more of a stir in his chest again, and then another, as low as his groin, thinking about... ]
... No. Not yet.
[ Which is, in fact, a lie, which surprises Irving as he hears himself saying it; there was their first time, obviously, and then twice with Jack Rackham, once with Huaisang... as he understands the parameters of Duplicity's quota, he has absolutely already met it for the month, so why is he claiming otherwise?
He swallows slowly, biting the corner of his lip, more redness spreading across his face as he murmurs back in a similarly low tone: ]
Know that I would let you, sir. Whatever it is that you're thinking of.
knocks back a big glass of villaneve juice and writes this tag
Something in his tone of voice, or maybe just what he's saying—the fact that Irving can't read minds and doesn't know what he wants and frankly probably can't even begin to really understand his mind and still just... trusts like that—it brings a rush of warmth through him; he feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest and he thinks about how, really, he's done so well thus far on the 'erections at inappropriate times' front compared to most of the guys he works with only to—
Get it together. You're an officer. This is ridiculous. Don't let him get to you like that.
...But also, he's never seen someone blush like that before. Ever. And Irving was staring at him, like he's someone much more attractive than he actually is. And Irving is willing to yield to him completely. Wants to, even. Cheol-gang swallows dryly. ]
Anything? Do you know me that well?
the levels of freak shit this is already on... smDh......
Are his urges really so depraved, so starved and so desperate as that?
It mortifies him not to know the answer to that; that even he, after so very, very many years of such rigid self-control and discipline, could succumb so wholly to these dark and twisted perversions and become a slave to his own sick lust the exact same way so many others regularly indulge their sins. ]
No, sir. As you know... [ His gaze shifts away, drops down in embarrassed. ] Hardly at all, in fact.
[ That doesn't change anything right now, though, except to make the building heat in Irving's body burn even stronger, more concentrated in the areas that matter most. Good thing he's sitting with his legs crossed, at least... ]
That changes nothing of what I've said.
[ If anything, Irving would more likely be less comfortable offering the same to someone he knew at all "well"... the mortifying ordeal of that...... ]
handcuffs leashes switch my wig make him feel like he's c
Irving seems almost... disappointed with that first admission. Do you want to know me that well?, a faint voice in the back of his head asks--but such a thought is hardly worth further contemplation right now. He's far more preoccupied with the heat building in his groin and the thought of how it might feel to actually meet him with full force. ]
Nothing of it. [ He huffs, a sound that falls firmly between amused and endeared and disgusted, then falls silent for a moment.
Followed by, in a speaking tone - ]
Have you ever been handcuffed, Lieutenant? You don't seem like the kind of man to run afoul of command, but... people have a way of surprising those who handle those affairs.
my mind just autofilled that as "make him feel like he's jesus"...
He shivers, nearly shudders, in an obvious, full-body sort of way, but before he has to think any further on the question, on his reaction to it, he's saved by the bell as the train pulls into their stop. Irving stands up so quickly his legs almost aren't prepared yet to support his weight, and he has to support himself briefly against the door, but soon enough they're out of the train and into the crisp winter air again, which at least helps him get his breath back.
As they approach the elevator on their way up to Major Cho's apartment, Irving finally confesses, in a soft, oddly shy tone despite this hardly being any shameful admission to make: ]
No, I've... not, before. [ He glances over, face appearing even more overheated against the cold outdoors around them. ] Have I, sir? Run afoul of you, somehow?
[ There's a pounding in his head and chest as his heart races with an alarming new severity, something rather more like excitement than fear, yet neither quite just one or the other. He does feel slightly overheated, perhaps from the cocoa, but in a way that's not entirely unpleasant either, stirring hot, electric threads of sensation down his body to his groin; up his neck to sizzle against his brain.
He wets his lips idly, loosening his scarf slightly from around his neck. ]
How would you see fit to correct me?
kidz bop version.. | cw discussion of brutality. one hell of a subject line
And how it would feel to put him on the floor. ]
[ His voice comes out quiet, matter-of-fact. ] If you'd seriously wronged me, Lieutenant, you would already be dead.
[ Even though it would, at this point... take a lot for him to kill John Irving and scrape his company out of Cheol-gang's own life. He keeps his thumb on the 'close doors' button and turns his head in Irving's direction. ]
For something like... striking a superior officer... You'd be cuffed. On the ground. I'd keep you restrained, probably get a few kicks in, remind you of your place. Insubordination is a serious offense. Is that what you want to hear?
SAME CWS...... I THINK
Irving's breath comes out in a rush like he's been holding it, a shaky exhale that's halfway a laugh, even though he knows that's neither joke nor even threat, what Major Cho just said: only fact. That stir of excitement hasn't diminished at all, only growing steadily stronger, burning like coal at the heart of him.
And yet despite his overwhelming warmth he shivers again, indisputably obvious this time, and also drawing out a soft noise from him; his hand reaches out, shaking, to brace against the elevator wall, as if he fears on some level swooning in a faint. ]
Y-yes, [ he manages on a breath, nodding quickly. ] I should think that would be quite reasonable.
[ In the Royal Navy, the punishment for striking a superior officer would be far more severe than that, which is not to say Irving condones the severity of most Navy corporal punishments, but in this case...
In this case there's no explaining why it's gotten him hard, his hands opening and closing at his sides with indecision as to whether or not he dares attempt striking this man even in the most meek, non-threatening manner possible. Irving's eyes scan over Major Cho with quick assessment in spite of his feverishness, searching out if he might be carrying these handcuffs on his person currently, or if this is all still hypothetical. ]
And what of... clothing? [ A beat. A valid question, considering how the navy favors whippings. ] On or off?
it's comrade.... major cho if ya nasty...
Doesn't take much, does it?
The fact that he's been in a decidedly aroused state since Stop K-3 is something that doesn't bear remarking upon, of course. Besides, Cheol-gang has the decency to keep his coat closed even though the heavy wool has become suffocatingly, oppressively hot. Another reason that getting inside is the only thing he can think about at the moment, aside from how quickly he could get Irving prone, what it would feel like to grab his shoulders and slam him against the wall right now—because he could, undoubtedly. Irving's taller, but he's otherwise outmatched in every way. ]
You get off on this.
[ As though it's a new observation. ]
OUR content warnings... ☭
He presses a hand over his face, feeling the heat of it sting his palm like a sunburn, before trying to fumble his coat closed at least enough at the bottom to help hide his shame, hide it slightly. ]
N-no, sir, I--
[ There's really no denying it at this point, though (why did he open his coat? never mind the heat, why?) leaving Irving caught miserably between the ingrained respect and decorum he should be conducting himself with in front of a superior officer -- even one representing a foreign nation's army -- afforded by his own rank, and the expanding arousal that feels like it might start burning holes in him at any moment. ]
That is, not normally, I wouldn't-- before now, I've most certainly never...
[ He's backing himself up against the wall without even being conscious of the fact he's doing it, his own thoughts very much getting lost in the same sorts of places that Cheol-gang's have already been conquering. ]
I don't need to, sir. Major Cho. [ He swallows, voice a low murmur, words still so much bolder than he feels. ] G-get off, I mean-- i-in fact I might find it more appropriate that you do not bother yourself with concern for my pleasure at all.
no subject
The pressure of his own clothes is, at this point, somewhat uncomfortable—at the very least, he'd like a moment to adjust, although present company rules that out—and he's acutely aware of that fact as he steps forward into the space Irving has just left empty, finally taking his finger off the elevator button to close the gap between them. ]
That's not my concern.
[ And it's not—although, really, he'd at least do him the courtesy of a hand down his dungarees as a matter of basic military decorum were he not aware of the sexual gratification Lieutenant Irving seems to get from... not finishing. Whether it's guilt or Christianity or some combination of the two, he's not sure, but it's also not his business— so he's never asked, nor does he ever intend to. If he eventually wants to talk about it, he'll offer that information.
Cheol-gang pauses, stares him in the eye despite the need to tilt his chin upwards to do so. ]
If you want to know what it's like to be arrested, Lieutenant...
no subject
This man is a stranger to whom Irving owes no time, respect, nor loyalty to (let alone anything else), yet still he radiates authority and leadership in a way Irving remains sorely lacking here in Duplicity-- truly an anchor, a port, amidst an otherwise turbulent, choppy sea; a reprieve from the immense pressure Irving's felt since he first arrived to be the sort of leader Jopson and Hickey need him to be here, the leader he so greatly wants to be for them but doesn't remotely know how to yet.
So maybe Irving does owe Major Cho that: deference and gratitude, for making him feel slightly less like he's bearing all that weight and completely alone.
He parts his lips as if to speak, then closes them; opens them again, if only to idly run his tongue out over the dry, sensitive skin. ]
You wish to show me. [ His voice is still quiet, somehow gentle and challenging both at once. ] So show me.
cw [consensual] sexualized violence from here on out baybee!!!
He leans forward, until he's sure Irving can feel his unsteady exhalations against his face, one leg between his, his own erection pressing into the man's thigh—a sensation that feels more incredible than it should in his current state of excitement, considering that he's a grown man, not a 17-year-old delinquent in his second week of basic training—though the choreography of the fragmented memory does align almost perfectly when transposed over this moment.
Cheol-gang swallows, the rather prominent ridge of cartilage visibly moving under ochre skin. ]
I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand that, Lieutenant?
SAME CWS + probably some religious repression/internalized fuckery due to come up
At any rate, Irving doesn't mind it; at any rate, he has no intention of fighting to get free (or, indeed, even any curiosity regarding whether or not he could if he so chose to try). He stands his ground, not letting his gaze falter or cut away even when he feels the other man's erection pressing into him tortuously near Irving's own. ]
I will not protest a bit of pain, sir. Not at all. Is it not indeed a prerequisite for discipline that all such lessons must be hard-learned?
[ He knows this abstractly, that punishments are meant to hurt and humiliate, but he's of course never done anything to merit a whipping or flogging himself-- not within the navy, not aboard his ship.
But this is different. Duplicity is different, that much cannot be denied, but by that fact alone Irving knows that much of what he's allowed himself to do (and be done to him) here, coerced or not, already should merit deep penance of some kind.
When his eyes finally skirt aside it's only to look at the floor numbers lit up above the door, sweat soaking through his scarf as he wonders which level the elevator will stop at-- whether this, whatever "this" actually is, will this happen here, or if they'll make it first to Major Cho's apartment. ]
All I fear is if we may be... interrupted.
no subject
There's only one more floor, and I only have one neighbor. [ And then, back to more immediate concerns: ] I've broken bones. Tell me before that happens, or this is all over. Do you understand?
[ He reaches for the back of his gun belt with his left hand, easily undoes the snap of the pocket of interest and retrieves the neatly folded handcuffs within—and holds them at his side, waiting for an answer in the affirmative. He'll be bruised by the time this is over, and Irving doesn't seem like the sort to be honest about his sexual preferences with others, even if it's at the expense of others' perception of him, Cho Cheol-gang—and he can't have that, especially now, when he's still new, still forming the intricate networks he'll need later on.
He also doesn't feel entirely indifferent to the notion of deliberately causing this man distress— it's of some consequence, at least, which elevates him above the usual gray landscape made up of all the other people that intermittently populate his life. It's less important than preserving his own reputation, but not entirely inconsequential. Another thought he doesn't dwell on. ]
no subject
[ Irving nods, a broad-strokes acknowledgement to everything he's just been told, only slightly frantic with wondering what they might end up doing that risks even the possibility of broken bones. He rubs idly, nervously, at his wrists, but even with that dangerous potential hanging in the air his excitement remains undaunted, aching in his pants with a dull, persistent throb yet still not flagging an inch. With the apparent advances in medical science here, Irving can still take mild comfort in the fact that if it were to happen, if only by unfortunate accident, the odds of him ending up maimed for life from it will at least be lower than they've ever been. ]
I'll speak-- shout if I must, even. If it comes to it.
[ And then his hands move forward, offering themselves up to be cuffed with a fascination that pounds in Irving's chest like a hammer, like drums. They don't look at all like shackles, really; they're much thinner, more flexible, maybe even... adjustable, for size? ]
Although, n-not so loud that your neighbour should hear us.
no subject
Cheol-gang takes an abrupt step back, snatches one arm, turns him so that his chest hits the wall—a fluid motion that transpires in a matter of seconds, ending with his grabbing the far arm and cuffing them together. He cinches them tight over the man's birdlike wrists but stops just short of bearing down on their starkly visible veins—he knows by now how far one can go before the handcuffed party loses sensation in their fingers. Not that it's ever really mattered much to him; Irving should consider himself lucky, in Cheol-gang's opinion, that he's anything other than indifferent to the longterm wellbeing of his circulatory system.
His heart races; the warmth is unbearable; the lack of stimulation is unbearable. He can't remember the last time he was this hard, that he felt any degree of sexual need this urgent. The elevator lurches to a stop and Cheol-gang wastes no time in yanking Irving toward the hallway, fingers bearing down into what little flesh his upper arm possesses beneath the sleeve of his wool peacoat. ]
Come with me. [ Might as well use this one chance to raise his voice without being overheard while he can. ] Now!
[ It's synthetic, not identical to the thrill he's gone too long without—but he feels. The power is intoxicating, maddening, an acceptable enough imitation only exacerbated by Irving's own possibly-unintentional antagonism. He needed this, the chance to give orders, to control something or someone. ]
no subject
And then, Cheol-gang's sternly raised voice, just a few measures too soft to qualify as a yell but still hardly any less sharp as one-- ]
--Ah!
[ He nearly stumbles, almost trips over his own feet as he's hauled bodily out of the elevator no matter how compliantly he's trying to come along, gasping and stammering for a temporary inability to speak with actual words. It hurts a bit more than Irving had anticipated, actually, but he doesn't complain beyond the occasional yelp or whimper when he's herded again in a particularly harsh manner, the sting of the cuffs digging into his wrists every now and then already prominent.
His knees almost give out and cause him to hit the apartment door, but he manages to retain his balance, squirming now less with discomfort, more in arousal. ]
Please, I'm-- I-I'm... I-I'll cooperate with you, I will--
no subject
Shoes off. I don't want you tracking pigeon shit into my house.
[ He's English — he needs to be reminded.
(...God, but in this state he's almost ready to just accept the future task of cleaning and just get him on the ground right here in the entryway without bothering with cleanliness - anything to feel even the tiniest modicum of friction, of pressure, anything— motivated by a need that's much more visibly apparent once he undoes the straps of his gun belt and briskly removes his overcoat, thanks in part to the notably less forgiving first layer of the entire ensemble. He doesn't verbally address it.) ]
no subject
Then he glimpses the gun belt, eyes going wide and breath hitching in a way that surprises even Irving, again a reaction born much more from excitement than of fear while still carrying threads of each. Another throb from his cock drives this home for him, an ache of yearning and growing need, urgency. ]
Is that... [ Speaking without even meaning to, certainly before he means to. ] I-I hadn't noticed that you were currently armed, sir--
miikesnow_mytrigger.mp3 | cw..........................gun...
The thought hadn't even really crossed Cheol-gang's mind on its own, but now that it has— If Irving wants to bring that element into it, too... Well. He's not objecting.
He undoes the snap of the holster with one hand and withdraws his sidearm, the weighty metal of its frame cold against his skin—then, slowly, extends his arm, stopping when the small metal prominence of the sight aligns with the center of John Irving's chest. I could kill you right now. He won't—Cheol-gang likes Irving, and he's genuinely liked very few people over his 44 years in this world—but he could.
There's a sexual thrill to that, to the heaviness of the gun in his hand, to the way the man watches him, utterly rapt, entirely powerless, like nothing he's felt any of the innumerable times he's handled the same weapon in the past. This is different, the same motifs plastered against a new backdrop that suits them well.
Cheol-gang swallows dryly and speaks up, mask unmoving despite the increasing urge to simply get this over with. He's had ample time to learn to conceal his emotions, to keep his voice calm and low even when his own heart is beating out of his chest. ]
Is this what it'll take?
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John Irving doesn't even know how to feel his desire in normal ways, desires for things which are normal, but for him have always been considered forbidden, so maybe it's no wonder eroticism and depravity have become so inextricably linked in his mind-- maybe it's not really so strange that he could find something almost more appealing for the fact that it also alarms him, frightens him just slightly, like say, having a loaded(?) gun pointed directly at his chest.
(Granted, everything about this situation has been erotic since before they got off the train, but sometimes aphrodisiacs simply help coax out things that were there already; it doesn't always have to be something out of nothing. No such thing as that anyway.)
The way he nods is almost vacant, gaze rapt enough that he likely looks vaguely hypnotized. The truth is that it would actually take much, much less than this, but Irving isn't about to argue semantics while at gunpoint-- he shakily, unsteadily drops to his knees, unsure of what else to do. ]
I-- [ Gulping, softly. ] I am at your command, sir.
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cw murder...references...
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cw sexually fantasizing about murder? kind of?
idk what to warn for... same shit. freak behavior
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cw very light breathplay/strangulation tease(?)
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astronaut pointing gun at other second astronau
cw | vague refs to rigid/period-typical (victorian) religious moralizing wrt sex/sexuality
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