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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!! |
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.
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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...
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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.
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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. ]
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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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--
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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.) ]
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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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Cheol-gang strides forward and stops a few inches short of physical contact, staring down with a look of indifference as he racks the slide: a firm, powerful clack, a threat and a warning and something else he can't define. He doesn't press the muzzle to Irving's cheek, but he comes close. ]
On the floor. Now.
[ This is it—all of this is what was missing every time in the past. He supposes he should thank Irving for that.
(He won't.) ]
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The sound the slide makes distracts his attention for just a moment, eyes darting back to the pistol with nearly curious interest as some irreverent part of his brain can't help but make note of how different the weapon is from any firearms he's ever seen or held, himself-- not that it matters, really, not much, except to make the situation just that much harder to predict.
Irving swallows again, slow, trying to focus. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears that it drowns out almost all other sound except for Cheol-gang's voice, which rings with a clear authoritative tone Irving is simply conditioned by now to respond to with his full attention.
On the floor. Now.
Except that Irving's already on his knees, is that not...? He breathes in slowly, eyes large and questioning as they move from the gun back up to Cheol-gang's face, before he bites his lip and awkwardly starts to lean his body forward and hips back until he's prone, his chest hitting the floor with a rough thump. ]
Like this, do you mean?
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No. Lieutenant, you know my thoughts on that. [ Unsanitary; uninteresting. Cheol-gang sets the weapon to the side for the time being—reluctantly—and seconds later grabs Irving by the shoulder, turning him onto his back with a swift, forceful motion. He proceeds to settle onto his knees, using both hands to pin Irving's shoulders to the floor—an action with its own eroticism, imbued with the knowledge that he's not strong enough to lift himself even uncuffed. Even once Cheol-gang sits back to straddle his hips, no longer shifting most of his weight forward, the pressure remains constant and aggressive— as though there's any real risk of Irving getting up; as though he'd want to.
And then his cock—still clothed, granted—finally comes up against real pressure, grinds against Irving's own visible erection. Cheol-gang abruptly tenses with the rush of sudden pleasure, lets out a shuddering breath— and speaks without thinking. ]
Fuck.
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Irving stares up at him, eyes blown wide with overwhelm and breathing fast, although he doesn't look scared, per se-- maybe somewhat over the fact that so much of this is still so unknown to him, Irving does rather fear the unknown, but not the reality itself; not Cheol-gang himself. ]
Ah--
[ The curse might otherwise have made him flinch, if not for the stimulation being significantly more distracting, more worth Irving's attention. He bucks into slightly, responsively, not so much intending to but unable to help it, like a reflex.
He swallows, and it's loud in the brief stillness, quiet apart from the sounds of them breathing. ]
M-my apologies.
cw murder...references...
[ It's clear that Irving wants to hear such details, that he finds his own role in this equally gratifying. He wants to be thrown around and ignored on some level, is apologizing as much for his own benefit as Cheol-gang's, surely. This is their game; the feeling of Irving's erection pressing into his own inner thigh—the only contact he's granted—attests to that much. And nonexistent God does he play the role well.
He should be proud of himself. This is more of a response than any Kaesong whores ever managed to get from the then-eighteen-year-old Cho Cheol-gang. ]
I could end you. Right now. If the situation were different— If you were— a threat to us—... I would, Lieutenant.
[ Probably. Maybe. ]
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Every grind and harsh, frictional reminder of his own erection is excruciating for him, but not unpleasantly, rather more like a deep, throbbing ache; the pounding of one's pulse beneath a dark and tender bruise, sensitive to the touch while being also basely satisfying to press down upon.
He tries to catch his breath, panting in slow, heavy, silent huffs, frozen beneath Cheol-gang for lack of knowing what to say, how to answer, maybe not even being capable of either were he to actually try. ]
Sir, truly, I... I can assure you I've no intentions of being a threat to you, as you say. [ Certainly not right now, not like this. ] I meant you no disrespect.
cw sexually fantasizing about murder? kind of?
Of course you're not. You're— A sailor. No combat training. Unarmed.
[ And vulnerable. So vulnerable and fragile beneath him, able to be snuffed out in an instant if he wants to. Irving knows that, has surrendered his safety to a man he knows has killed before. Hell, he couldn't even get up right now if he wanted to—he's not strong enough to push back against the amount of partial force Cheol-gang is exerting to keep his shoulders against the carpet. Even if he wasn't handcuffed.
It's an incredibly erotic line of thought, and a dangerous one, if he wants to last much longer. Irving doesn't like actually coming, or at least seems to find more bizarre gratification from not finishing, but he likes him enough to at least give him a 'run for his money', to quote one of at least one hundred idioms he's learned over the past week. ]
You wouldn't be— able to kill me. Men like you don't kill. You'd be in the army if you could kill. [ A shuddering breath; an unplanned admission: ] I prefer that. Seeing you like this. Knowing that you're— different— from some worthless grunt. You think.
idk what to warn for... same shit. freak behavior
(Obviously there's nothing Irving can do right now about the erection he already has, but Cheol-gang also isn't wrong: Irving really does prefer not to come, but that doesn't mean his body won't still respond in the ways all men's bodies do.)
The irony is he actually does have his shot gun here, it came in with him upon arrival, but of course he doesn't have it with him now. It isn't the sort of thing one just carries around with them while on land amongst civilians. Not like the small, handheld pistol Cheol-gang has pointed on him.
Irving bites his lip, closes his eyes, face darkening with color while he attempts to process whether he's just been praised or insulted. Probably both at once: army and marines always seem to look down on navy men as weak, effete, ineffectual, particularly ones who sail on unarmed ships like Irving has, and the truth is they're not entirely wrong; Irving never has killed anyone, let alone purposefully, with a weapon.
But he does think. That much is also true. His time in the navy may not have offered up many opportunities to really show off his capacity for logic and strategy, but this man has still noticed, even for only knowing Irving a short time. ]
Yes, sir. [ He gulps, bringing his gaze back toward Cheol-gang above him. ] After all, we need not be enemies. Perhaps I could even be of... some use, to you.
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But if he wants to be genuinely useful—
He swallows, taking a moment to get up the breath to answer. ]
And how is that? [ Another shuddering exhalation. As if correcting himself, he belatedly tacks on: ] Lieutenant.
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Irving also knows that's a notion much easier said or thought than done, that not even the men of Terror and Erebus could seem to manage pulling themselves together despite all being a part of the same expedition party, but-- well, that was then, and this is now.
Though even this seems still too "big picture" for right now, right this very moment. ]
Back on the train, you asked me-- [ He hesitates; clears his throat. ] You asked about the quota, sir. I thought we might start with that.
[ Irving also finds himself feeling surprisingly... decisive, earnest, not second-guessing his words at all. Not because he's any more comfortable with the entire notion of "quota" -- or anything else Duplicity has imposed upon him in even the very short amount of time he's been here -- than he'd been when he'd first arrived, but--
Because under the circumstances, offering himself to those who require the help does, ironically, feel like the more Christian thing to do:
"Instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others." Philippians 2:4.
(Or is it just that this city has already addled his brain so severely that such a thought could even cross his mind?)
He looks at Cheol-gang, sweating at the forehead and palms while he waits, braced, for any sign of acknowledgement, good or bad. ]
I-if... you'd like, that is. If it would be helpful.
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Though there's also the question of what Irving may eventually expect in return for this. He's smart, though he doesn't seem particularly capable of the planning that goes into arranging these sorts of favors and connections long before they're needed, nor does he seem like he'd do that sort of thing to Cheol-gang specifically—but there is no free lunch. This is something that he would do, were he willing to whore himself out for the sake of power (one of the few things he didn't do to get where he was back home, though he certainly could have). Irving seems to be the type to offer such things after some genuine notion of kindness, though it's not at all lost on him that he's enjoying himself, that this is a mutually rewarding interaction from the outset.
That may be enough, for a man like that. And if he's uncontracted, that may be a motivating factor, too—though, really, Cheol-gang wouldn't mind being in a contract with Irving, either. He's the only person he feels anything more than indifference toward in this place. ]
I don't need your help. [ A pause; Cheol-gang uses his knees to raise himself just enough to break contact for a moment despite the base urge to do anything but that. ] If you would like to, I wouldn't mind making this a regular event, as a favor to you. If that's what you're insinuating.
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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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