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duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
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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!! |
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[ Already having drained about half (if not slightly more) of his glass, Irving drinks down more of his whiskey, feeling his tension and stress finally beginning to lift-- if still only just temporarily, but is it still ever overdue. ]
I'll likely be making arrangements with Jopson. It seems only practical that we not allow this setback to divide us even further. [ Will it be awkward? Yeah... maybe. Probably. But he has to make decisions like a leader. ] I am not helpless, Rackham. Do not concern yourself as if I am.
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[ Jack was only ever in the Navy as a quick escape and a free ride elsewhere, there were no exotic and interesting locales for him. Ferrying supplies for the war with Spain, mostly, would have been unbearably boring without the card scams on the side. No clear turquoise or palm trees until he got them all besieged by pirates on purpose. ]
Good. That was a warning, that my aid only extends as far as your quota. [ And whiskey. ] And you'd be wise not to let him know about that, or you'll be out on the streets.
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[ It would be nice to go back someday, even just to Australia, or better yet to see more of the world (especially the Caribbean), although Irving knows that's a pipe dream; the odds of him and the rest of the Terror/Erebus crews making it back from the Arctic alive were hovering barely above zero even before he'd woken up here, and then obviously just being in Duplicity at all suggests rather strongly that he, at least, has indeed somehow died.
Honestly, that thought doesn't bother him as much as it could. He fears Hell, yes, fears the unknown, fears a great many other things in kind, but not death itself. Death is an inevitability; a deliverance, even. Or at least it should have been.
He drinks down more whiskey, his freshly flushed face and slightly glassy eyes as much proof of his increasing tipsiness as his rapidly draining glass is, then blinks at Jack in bleary, momentary confusion. ]
Let him know about... what, about you? [ Irving actually laughs at the idea. ] Well, of course not-- why on Earth would I? The man would never look at me the same again... if at all, and certainly not in the eye.
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[ Not to get homesick, or anything, but Hickey's stories about freezing in the Arctic have made him especially nostalgic for it. Jack waves the bartender over for another round. Irving seems like a lightweight. ]
Classic navy hypocrisy, then. [ Not to go blurting other people's business... ] I know you won't tell. On purpose. But the moment you're reminded of me because the two of you have to share the elevator with a couple of men going at it, you'll get all skittish and impossible not to read.
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[ Irving's chin tips upward slightly as he tries to imagine it, the descriptions alone nearly as intoxicating as the whiskey; he's never been to the tropics, not even to the Sandwich Islands, but like most men -- particularly in the Navy, and especially particularly in the Discovery Service -- he does have a few romantic notions of what a life lived down there must be like. What John Irving himself would actually do with "freedom," he hasn't a clue, but still, it sounds nice enough.
Not that he really minds snow, necessarily, or at least not normally, but it's likely not too hard to understand why his mind may have been recently changed on the subject.
And yes, he is a bit of a lightweight, though it also helps that the whiskey is strong -- normally it takes Irving two or three glasses to start feeling as tipsy as he's already feeling now -- and that he's only been drinking heavily watered down spirits for the past year or so. ]
That will never happen. [ Drunk(ish) or not, Irving sounds confident. ] Not as you describe it. Jopson would never assume such a thing about me.
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[ He knows the answer to that already, thanks to Hickey, but that's a reveal to keep close to his chest for a while. Let him squirm, let him drink, maybe it'll get something interesting out of him.
Does it count as sailing, even, if they're stuck in the ice? ]
He can be dense, though, I'll grant you that. A sort of...willful cluelessness, about him.
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[ Now he lowers his voice, more to stage-whisper levels: ]
A sodomite.
[ It's a very well-kept secret... in his head. One of the best parts about repression is the inherent sense of subtlety that comes with it (right??), although if Irving were to think about this more rationally (which he never, ever will) it might occur to him that if anyone else on the ship already had guessed as much, it would almost certainly be 1) Hickey and 2) Jopson.
He drinks deep again from his refilled glass, which brings back a bit of the color that had moments before just drained from his face. ]
And you hardly had to assume it, did you, seeing as I allowed you to [ (quickly lowering his voice again:) ] bugger me!
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Oh, calm down, won't you? It's getting tedious. If you were honestly that torn up about it, you wouldn't be sitting here having a drink with me after the fact. You don't have to stay so committed to this little performance of yours for my sake.
[ Jesus Christ. And Anne thought he was being stupid about all the shit with Charles. He can't help but roll his eyes and drink deep in turn, laying the glass down with more force than, honestly, is really necessary. ]
You did. Because I had you figured out. Which is clearly something that you liked.
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When his hands lower again, one curving back around to hold his drink while the other simply sits against the table, fingers fidgeting, opening and closing restlessly. ]
Do not flatter yourself in thinking that anything I do is for your sake. [ But really: Irving knows, Jack knows, so what is the use in pretending otherwise? ] I've never known before what I would do should anyone ever recognize this... deviancy within me... yet I wonder now, if perhaps some part of me was glad for it after all. Grateful to be seen.
[ Does that even make sense...? That makes no sense. He is clearly already drunker than he thought. Irving shakes his head. ]
I'm not like you. I don't know how to be... [ He sighs. ] Truly free.
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I hadn't set out that day to wrangle the deviancy out of anyone. I only saw the truth of you, and pushed you to admit it.
[ One ringed finger taps softly against his glass. Not quite a lie, but no, it wasn't as altruistic as that. He takes another swig before he continues. ]
It's important for a man to be able to adapt. That is the only way to survive. You go to war, you learn to fight. You go to the Arctic, you bring a fucking coat, even if the wool makes you itch. You come to Duplicity, you...learn to embrace your desires, it's part and parcel. [ Shit, he's only been here a few months himself. Jack's no expert, it's just not the first time he's had to reinvent himself to suit new surroundings. His whole life's been like that, up and down and all around, metamorphizing from one form to the next. ] I don't know how much Jopson has told you, but this place will have your head twisted into such a state you won't know which way is up. If you can't face who you are on a good day, Irving, you're going to have more pressing issues than I could ever cause you.
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He shakes his head slowly, his next drink more measured and thoughtful than his other desperately quick gulps have been up to now. ]
But why would you? Why... [ Trailing off, before it finally occurs to him (very belatedly) his question may require some clarification: ] How does it benefit you, that I should admit to a truth so appallingly shameful? Do you truly consider this a kindness you are showing me?
[ In a way, perhaps, as the dull throb in Irving's groin that still remains from not having gotten off before is quick and keen to remind him, but in the broader sense... no, Irving would not agree that this is the sort of truth that sets people free.
Irving would consider himself adaptable -- within reason -- and definitely resourceful, but it would also not be untrue to say he's still a good ways off for having taken to sailor life the way someone of his experience and years given to the Service should have by now; the number of things that, per voyage, have semi-regularly had him scurrying, scandalized, up and down ladders, or just clutching his metaphorical pearls, would probably be hilarious to Jack. Even Jopson looks almost coarse and rowdy compared to how uptight Irving can oftentimes be. ]
Consider, Rackham: if a sodomite never acts upon those deep, sinful desires he may harbour, and instead only seeks out the company of women when he is in need of fulfillment of that particular nature, then can he indeed still even be called a sodomite at all?
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[ Jack begins softly, considering his words carefully. He's always been somewhat of a politician, as pirates are concerned, but he's usually dealing with bumbling, illiterate drunkards. Swaying an educated man, predisposed towards shame instead of pleasure, requires stretching a muscle he hasn't used in quite a while. He has to tread lightly, but not appear as if he's treading lightly, like the outcome actually matters to him one way or another. ]
...is something that is put upon you. I know that you have been taught differently, but listen to me. [ Jack leans forward, elbows on the table, looking him in the eye. ] It isn't natural, to feel shame for something which harms no one. If all involved enjoyed themselves, then whatever shame you feel is coming from outside influences, that want you to feel as if you are less-than, so that they can manipulate you into seeking their good graces once again. Those forces will do nothing but exploit you, send you to your hopelessly miserable, frozen death, on the off-chance you find something that might make them a profit.
[ The irony isn't lost on him, given his minor(?) meltdown the month before, but that was a little more nuanced than whether he likes men at all or not. Jack's not entirely optimistic that Irving will take it to heart at all, but as long as he believes that Jack's the only one who knows, he's in the best position to plant that seed. ]
You're a sodomite. I'm a sodomite. Half of the men in this damn city are sodomites, and the earth hasn't been cleaved in two beneath our feet, the clouds have not covered us in a flood of holy wrath, lightning hasn't stricken anyone down. It simply does not matter.
[ It's as close to a pep talk as he's going to get. If nothing else, he'll know that Jack isn't going to shame him for it, unless he's into that. ]
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It's hard not to be brought to a sort of thoughtful silence, tipsy though he clearly is, because he's being spoken to now with a level of consideration that -- especially from Jack -- rather surprises him. For all Irving may have the obnoxious habit of speaking from atop his various soapboxes once something gets him going, rarely do those he's lectured about this or that ever seem to try actually seeing the subject from his perspective; to understand him, if still not necessarily respect or agree with his point of view.
Despite himself, he feels slightly moved for the fact Jack is making any sort of an effort at all; much more than Irving would have expected from a pirate. ]
I am no fool, Rackham-- I can see that it is clearly the Royal Navy to which you are referring. [ He observes dryly, but also doesn't protest the implications. ] Though I'm afraid it is still more complicated than only that alone.
[ His glass wobbles in place slightly as he traces his finger around the rim, pausing contemplatively before he goes on: ]
Perhaps not here. That I will grant you. [ And takes another drink. ] Or at least not in any such manner by which many a civilized society might normally determine what should or should not "matter."
[ At which point Irving puts up a hand, in demonstration that he's not trying to argue-- he's simply talking. On another level, this does feel a bit uncomfortably like a reversal of the speech he once gave to Hickey, even down to the slightly contrived "we're not inherently quite so different, are we," outreach of it, but luckily Irving is also too drunk at this point to feel patronized by it. ]
It soothes me some to be able to discuss this with you. [ He reaches across the table, placing his palm on Jack's wrist. ] Please speak if there is anything you may also wish to unburden yourself of-- I will listen.
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[ That's probably a bit radical for him. Dial it back, Jack. He orders another round, a good enough excuse to let the issue rest, if that's what Irving wants. It's after the server walks off, when the other man reaches out for him, a warm hand on his wrist that surprises him. Is he too deep in his cups to realize that anyone could see them? ]
I'm glad to hear it. [ Honestly. He's looking to gain this man's trust for his own ends, sure, but he would like to listen to fewer soapbox rants in the process. Carefully, Jack twists his wrist palm-up, letting his rings scrape against the table, with no intention to shake him off. He takes a drink and just looks at him, considering. There's a lot going on with him right now, but he does not want nor need to unburden himself to Irving about it. Something small, should suffice. ]
There is one thing. I lied to you, earlier. [ He squints and tilts his head, looking apologetic enough. ] If Anne knew what we'd done, she wouldn't care. She fucks women. Did it back home, too. Sorry. I liked seeing you squirm.
[ He smirks, amused with his own clever joke, but there's no bite to it. It's flirtatious, almost. ]
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[ So much for not soapboxing, but... at least it's not the worst he's ever come out with, right? He touches his hand to his heart, eyes shining still with earnesty and zeal, with eagerness to share this part of himself with Jack in a way the other man can understand, although Irving is absolutely too in his cups to see the futility in that notion.
Or, indeed, to consider that anyone might see them like this, the way his hand remains on Jack's wrist, fingers idly tracing the ridges of bone up to his knuckles.
He holds Jack's gaze with his own faintly bleary one, then blinks, lips parting in mild surprise. Not offense, even, just surprise, because he very obviously could not have seen this particular plot twist coming. ]
Wh-- do you mean that? [ He blurts out after a beat, perhaps not intending for flirtatious, himself -- Irving wouldn't know how -- but somehow still clumsily circling the mark. ] It won't be... she really doesn't mind?
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Jack would argue that being a thorn in England's side is a good and righteous endeavor, but he doesn't expect his companion to agree. or even find it amusing, so he lets it be. His eyes flick briefly down to their hands, not quite joined but not quite not, and makes the choice to hold still, let Irving feel out whatever he feels he needs to. ]
Yes, I do. And I shouldn't be telling you her business like that, so keep it down. [ He scolds, despite it not being much of a secret. Can't let him off that easy. ] We are secure and committed enough that if we have needs that we need to seek out elsewhere, that's fine. Just try not to fall in love with me, won't you?
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Well, I'm no gossip. [ Irving hisses, voice low, shaking his head. Also, he has no one to tell, so...? ] As for these needs of yours...
[ He lifts his drink with the hand not currently hanging out on Jack's wrist, downing the rest of his whiskey in a couple quick gulps before he swipes his mouth dry with the back of his hand. Irving debates, briefly, asking if Jack might be feeling these needs again at this very moment, but he manages to switch gears at the last moment before finally continuing to speak: ]
Calm yourself. And know that the very last thing I want from you would ever be love.
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He knows he won't. Irving's a strange animal. Jack can watch him, fully indulging in this unusual, intimate touch, see the question taking form on his lips, only for it to be swallowed down again. His impulse control seems to come and go like a flickering light. How on earth he maintained the energy to repress it all until now is a mystery to Jack. ]
It's a joke, Irving. I'd fucking hope not.
[ He curls his middle finger up, calloused but gentle as can be, to stroke his wrist in turn. It's a question, a challenge, really, to see if he'll say anything without the aphrodisiacs greasing the wheel. ]
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Strangely enough, it's always been easier for Irving to maintain a sense of steadiness while at sea, to compartmentalize; even if he were to set aside his faith, there are simply certain habits that might be overlooked, tolerated even, while on land, that are much less forgivable for a man to bring with him aboard his ship.
And while on land, well, it's easier still to avoid such temptations than while trapped together in close quarters with other men for months and years, alternative ways aplenty for Irving to keep his thoughts and his body occupied on things other than the indulgence of desires he should not even be harboring--
Easier, with no influence of aphrodisiacs taking him over suddenly and without warning, commanding his hormones and his body beyond his brain's own ability to. Since he's been in Duplicity it's like a cage door has been left unlocked on some dangerous, hungry creature that's always resented being held back, something that's just tasted blood, and wants to eat and eat now that it knows what it's like to finally be fed, to feel full for the first time.
Something like this is very different for Irving, and even drunk as he is he can recognize that; it's one thing to justify his behavior the other times while he, while they both, have been under the influence, but touching another man like this in public, in a way that's just a step or two past platonic or plausibly deniable; being touched back in that soft and careful manner, just a brush along his wrist; small and simple intimacies most people likely take for granted that he now, suddenly, feels unreasonably greedy for.
He speaks finally, slowly, emboldened by the whiskey but perhaps also by Jack himself: ]
Perhaps what I mean to say is... I may still want for other things. From you. [ A beat. ] Things that are not love.
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Is that right?
[ He licks his lips, that spark igniting in his eye again, like he's up to no good. Which is the truth, of course, but he's feeling pretty confident that deep down, Irving likes that. Maybe it's not even that deep. Something's being unlocked before his very eyes, and he can't help but find it immensely satisfying. ]
Tell me. Don't be coy about it.
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[ A few drinks might have somewhat loosened both his nerve and his tongue, but breaking down his reserve completely is something alcohol alone still can't fully accomplish; he shifts his gaze aside shyly, hand finally withdrawing itself from Jack's, although it remains lingering close enough for their fingers to almost still be touching.
It's only now Irving gives the pub a quick look around, fingers beginning to drum restlessly against the tabletop, heart racing, pounding in his chest at a volume that seems to him impossibly loud. He drinks again to quiet down the noise some, emptying his glass for the third time this evening.
Jack's a difficult man for Irving to read, not only because he's a pirate (though no doubt that doesn't help) but also that Irving has no idea how to flirt, no real concept for interpreting... interest, attraction, let alone actually navigating either. Everything about this moment would be practically paralytic to him sober, but drunk, he's able to fall back upon the notion of sunk cost; they've already come this far, he's not -- wouldn't be -- giving up any part of himself that he hasn't already.
So, leaning in slightly closer, he adds: ]
Carnal things.
[ He says it quietly enough to make clear he considers it quite a lewd thing to have just said, looking flustered, pulling back again with almost a flinch as if he's bracing for rejection. ]
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Well, I know that.
[ Irving recoils, and Jack leans in, voice both clear and soft like the clink of his glass. He's alight though, the same thrilled, predatory gaze as last time, but more willing to play with his prey than to eat it. It's a thrill, knowing damn well Irving wouldn't have said so aloud as recently as the last time, that he's so easily corrupted. ]
Last time, you had me do whatever I wanted. You loved it, clearly, but what do you want? I could fuck you slow and steady, if you want, until you beg for more. Or...gagged, so you won't be able to? [ No, not that. Jack likes to hear it. He licks his lower lip deliberately, fully aware of how deviously lewd it might look, if anyone were peeking at them. ] I could work your needy little hole open with my hands, my tongue, could try a toy. Or make you ride my cock, really work for it.
[ He reaches out to grab Irving's wrist, tighter than the idle exploration just a minute before. Doesn't quite trust him not to bolt and make him raise his voice. ]
Since you're asking, I mean. You must have some idea what you actually want.
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Irving's not so far gone on booze yet that he can't still tell Jack knows exactly what he's doing by teasing him this way, goading him yet again into speaking aloud things that make him break out into a cold sweat just to think of, but how is he possibly supposed to answer that question, what does he want?
The worst part is that he doesn't think he even knows the answer yet-- that he might want any of those things that Jack's describing, might want all of them.
(Definitely not none of them, owing to his own body's reaction -- thankfully hidden beneath the table -- to each suggestion.)
His fingers continue drumming the tabletop -- an anxious compromise against biting or picking at his already fairly savaged fingernails -- body so tight with tension he could almost be a cartoon radiating flopsweat, before he finally manages a small, twitchy shake of his head: either that he doesn't know, truly has no idea of what he wants, or he simply can't bring himself to say it. ]
The... one of... [ A flicker of panic crosses his face, hands fidgeting and shaking like he wants to hide behind them, but he perseveres: ] M-maybe one of those... last, which you mentioned, but... anything would--
[ He stops short, but has no solution for salvaging that hastily aborted admission, just clears his throat and shifts gears, whispering: ]
You don't mean "toys" like one of those [ a pause to remember the word, ] plahss-tic tentacles I've seen around, do you? Those are horrible.
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Tentacles? No...not tentacles. [ The hell is he talking about? ] I was thinking a butt plug. They make vibrating ones, now, might try fucking you with it until you want my cock so bad you can't stand it, if you ask me to.
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Well, the way he's noticed Jack sometimes looks at him, like he's surprised by his own interest in him, which may not be too far from the way Irving sometimes looks at Jack, too. It's not necessarily flattering, feeling observed, watched with what is surely more scrutiny and judgement than desire or attraction, but on the other hand, Irving isn't sure he'd be able to recognize those latter in any man's eyes anyway-- whereas the former the navy has more than gotten him used to already.
And, again, who's to say if how Irving looks at Jack is really any different? He may spend nearly every hour of every day surrounded by other men, but over the years much of what that's actually taught Irving is that he just doesn't think in the same way most other men seem to.
Anyway, for now he doesn't elaborate on the tentacle; that had been a one-off encounter in a hotel room around when Irving had first arrived, an extremely luxurious looking room stocked with extremely alarming paraphernalia, and he'd been particularly alarmed (yes, even for him) when he'd learned the actual purpose of what he'd at first presumed to just be decorative tentacle models... it had disturbed him greatly, to say the least. ]
A... [ He swallows down a gulp, thinking back to the various displays he'd seen around the marketplace as his teeth catch the center of his lower lip. ] What exactly is the purpose of... do they just--
[ Irving's both seen and heard them identified by name, but that doesn't do much to contextualize their actual point or appeal to him (not that he's thought about it) beyond exactly what the name suggests. They just... go in? And then what?
Which is not to say he's disinterested, however; he has in fact been harboring a shameful, smoldering curiosity about various different types of "toys" he's seen ever since arriving in Duplicity. Irving touches his fingers to his lips, trying very hard not to let his thoughts show themselves on his face, and starts by just nodding mutely, which he knows won't be good enough a response for Jack, but-- he has to work his way up to it.
Then something else occurs to him, which he simply blurts out: ]
How large would it be?
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