duplicitymemes | TDM #25

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«tdm

TDM #25

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « ALL ON DISPLAY

It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy.

This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses.

To counteract the discovery of the deceit gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the LIEs 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 LIEs after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues.

... and you're here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity.

After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of Orientation.

If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You're a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your high-rise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You're a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you'll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms.

Enjoy your free time until Orientation! Participation is mandatory for all new and past arrivals.

Skies are clear and the weather is warm.

» » » ALL ABOARD

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.

« « « SUMMER SPECIAL

(cw: aphro/drugs)

LIEs has once again partnered with a local coffee chain, Peek-A-Brew, to promote their summer menu and help play matchmaker among those in the program. Along with the usual goodie bag, each character will be handed a small slip of paper after Orientation with a date and time, location, and three fun facts about a mystery partner they're to meet for a coffee date. These "facts" may or may not actually be true — they're simply meant to spark conversation. For the duration of the 1-2 hours the pairs are expected to spend getting to know one another, they will receive unlimited free iced coffee, tea, and lemonade and a discount on any other menu items. Seasonal specials include fruity parfaits and popsicles in a variety of refreshing flavors.

Naturally, all goods are spiked to make the consumers more agreeable, more truthful, and perhaps a bit more handsy than normal. Though the meetings are not mandatory, contact with the paper brings on an inexplicable sense of curiosity about meeting their partner and discovering who they really are.

« « « BEAT THE HEAT

(cw: aphro, temporary body changes)

With summer heat building, the natives are looking for a reprieve from the sweltering weather. All manner of frozen treats are being sold and consumed and it's not uncommon to see Submissives fanning their Dominants as they walk down the street or ride the train.

Sprinkler systems are running day and night in North Park and other city-owned patches of green and plenty of people are taking the opportunity to run and jump through the spray with little care for soaked clothing — or perhaps they aren't wearing clothing at all. Others have taken up squirting one another, as well as whoever is passing by, with water guns or hurling water balloons at anyone who looks like they need to cool down. Especially on the streets near the park, it's a wet and wild battle royale and all are welcome to join in.

Getting hit with some of those colorful water balloons and squirt guns temporarily causes those who get splashed to taste like sweet, mouth-watering summer fruits. It's not just their skin either — the effect extends to their sweat, saliva, and even sexual fluids and can last for several hours. Those around them will find it hard to resist having a taste.

« « « HANG ON TO YOUR HATS

(cw: violence, public nudity/exposure)

If you're out on the streets of the Down, it's not just your wallet you have to worry about losing. It seems that one of the local gangs, the Bulldogs, has set a new test for their junior members and those hoping to join: steal an article of clothing right off the body of someone in a public place. From snatching the hat off their head to slicing the shirt off their back, it's anything goes!

These junior initiates quickly get competitive, one-upping each other on who can complete the task in the most ballsy or outrageous manner. Some compete over who can collect the most clothing, either certain articles or overall, or who can score a full set first.

As word spreads and more people are going around suddenly missing part of their outfits, the Sparrows, a rival gang, decide to get in on the action purely for bragging rights. Rather than taking the clothing by force, they pride themselves on using stealth and trickery, leaving more than a few people naked and confused.

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

Please read carefully.

On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but the assignments are OOCly 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 is more of an optimist, they are a Submissive. If your character is more of a pessimist, they are a Dominant.

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!!

» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Quietly, Eliot pinches at the bridge of his nose like he needs the pressure to chase away a headache. It's not Quentin that's the problem. It's all the information that just keeps coming and coming, which would have made an excellent joke if he'd been in the mood. But he's not, and it's such a waste of a perfectly good late afternoon.

"I guess they really take the idea of social mixers to an extreme." He relaxes in his seat and leans forward, a casual attempt at peering in the direction of the drink Quentin has. "What kinks did you meet these people with? A little oral, maybe?"

Yes, he'd read the list. Is he going to let him off easy? As if he would ever do something like that. And to punctuate the question, he smiles at him.

Quentin ducked his head sheepishly and lifted up his drink to take a sip -- nothing particularly exciting, just some kind of fruity lemonade. Theoretically the kind of thing you could slip alcohol into, but Quentin liked to save his money and it was free this way.

He had an answer by the time he set it down again. "Maybe I did, Daddy," he said, easy and casual as you please and trying not to look as proud of himself for it as he felt. "I could pull out my device and check, but I know there was pain play, hair pulling, blindfolds, choking...oh, deepthroating was definitely in there," he said, ticking them off on his fingers as he went.

With someone else he'd have stumbled more, but his desire to fuck with Eliot a little was overwhelming his usual anxiety.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Quentin was being sort of... cute? Is that the word he's looking for? It might be, though there's the slightest uptick of his brow as the word 'daddy' just spills out of him like it's nothing. He wonders how many other people have carried that title for him and immediately decides that that goes into the untitled category of off-limits.

Anyway, it's everything else that has him shifting in his seat and crossing one leg over the other.

"Who knew you were such a," there's a light wave of his hand, "connoisseur." He wanted a drink, but a cigarette would have sufficed just as well. "But some of those involve your mouth. I'm surprised it hasn't gotten you into trouble."

Or has it? He'd missed their first meeting, so he doesn't know a thing about Quentin's life in this city. He knows he has a contract with some feisty chick and what kind of kinks he's theoretically into. That's about it, which doesn't explain much at all, and Eliot tucks his arms over his chest, looking over Quentin a bit more thoroughly now. His eyes land on that submissive mark, and suddenly, for some reason, it's all he can think about.

Quentin couldn't help a little smile as he looked down and away. "I mean...I was definitely less of a connoisseur before I came here," he said. "Lots of, like, theoretical ideas but not a lot of practical experience, you know?" He hesitated a moment, debating whether to explain something about the history Eliot hadn't lived yet or just move past it. After a moment's consideration, he decided that building something new didn't have to mean leaving Eliot completely in the dark.

"The memories I told you about, we definitely didn't get all the memories, so any experience that might have been in there was pretty much lost," he said, keeping his tone even. There. Done, no drama. "But anyway, you kinda just, uh...trip over sex all the time here and a lot of the time there will be kink involved. So I've...gotten a lot of experience, learned a lot about myself, you know?"

If given the choice, he'd prefer to be left in the dark about these things. He'd already told him too much, and with the future rolling forward in his absence, he still wouldn't be prepared to handle whatever waited for him back home. Being in this place with someone he knows shouldn't feel as daunting as it does. So much for trying something new and not avoiding his problems.

"Well," he says with a soft air of dismissiveness. "It's about time you caught up with the rest of us. No more of those sad and confused puppy eyes for the expert." Sexpert? Eliot smiles a little to himself, though it's not fully there. "Is there anything else to do here that isn't fucking? I don't need to find myself every minute of every day."

As much as he thought he might enjoy a place like this, it'll start getting old after a while. Maybe he needs to get out and mingle more.

Well, he'd fucking asked. If he wanted to update that preference, he was free to tell Quentin about it; if he wanted to avoid it so hard he couldn't even say a sentence, he was free to deal with the consequences of his actions.

"I mean, I definitely still make sad and confused puppy eyes," Quentin said, picking vaguely at the edge of the lid on his drink. He could see Eliot being a dick for some reason, in response to some kind of stress, but he didn't understand why. "They really try to direct us toward fucking, but there's some stuff. There's an arcade run by a LIER that has like, legit classic games and not weird porn shit. There's a couple of different theaters that put on performances, usually not sexual. Basically look for businesses run by LIERs and you'll have a better chance of finding nonsexual stuff."

Maybe he's feeling just a little guilty for standing him up before, and maybe, just maybe, there's no rules that tell him how to act in a situation like this. When he's uncomfortable, it's difficult to get a handle on anything. This whole thing with Quentin is —

"I do love the choices they've given us." Surprisingly, there's no sarcasm in those words, only a sort of acceptance that comes with making a sudden decision that has absolutely nothing to do with any of that. And Quentin's right. He's been making sad and confused puppy eyes at him since they'd incidentally bumped into each other however many days ago, and Eliot doubts it's going to get any better. He needs to take this thing by the reins if they're going to get over it, if he is going to get over it and move on so he can have a good time.

"If fucking is really all they want from us," he eyes him purposely as he stands, "come with me."

Quentin looked up at him, standing there. If this had been happening a month ago, god, there would have been a fucking sonic boom from how fast Quentin made to follow. Now? The eye that swept up and down over Eliot was critical, considering. When his gaze flicked back up to Eliot's, there was nothing outwardly different about his expression. But if Eliot was sober enough, he ought to be able to read some new steel in those eyes.

"Okay," he said. "But you have to promise not to be an asshole about it." His tone had flattened a little, and hardened, but he was just being firm about his boundaries, not commanding or demanding about it. Still the kind of tone a 'model sub' of Duplicity might have in public. "I mean, I know you're the person you are, I'm not saying you have to...be eternally nice about everything or whatever," he said. "But you can't, like, be dismissive about me or...I don't know, act like something I want isn't good enough, or whatever."

His emotional response to the question, which Quentin was watching closely, was as important as the actual agreement. If Eliot wasn't ready to promise to be a little gentle with him, they were in no way ready to have sex.

He's sober enough to know what's happening here, cutting short the nonchalance of it all and straightening up. There's a moment where Eliot takes in this bustling little cafe and just exhales, smoothing a hand down the length of his vest to settle that odd prickle of nerves in the back of his head. He has his own hangups, certainly, but it has nothing to do with being physical. Emotionally, probably, he isn't ready for something like this. He hadn't been ready when Quentin had told him about the future, and he still isn't, which is most likely reflected in the way he looks at him.

Eliot could give him all the personal details of his life he could ever want without asking, but offering his heart or the equivalent of that? He can't.

"I never said it wasn't good enough." Maybe he's actually too sober for this. He can feel it in the way he looks at him. "I can only give you so much right now, Quentin. It might never be all that you want, but I'm working with what I know here." But Eliot isn't going to beg either, so all he does is hold out his hand to him.

Whatever Quentin was looking for, apparently he found it, because he smoothed out a little. The flinty stubbornness was gone, and he nodded slightly. He maybe even looked sympathetic. So he reached out to take Eliot's hand and got up from his chair.

"Your place?" he suggested as they headed for the door. "Probably better, since you live alone. We're still gonna talk about, like, kinks and boundaries and whatever before we do anything," he said as they emerged out onto the street. "Kinda standard around here. Don't laugh but I have, uh, a literal written list if you...wanna see it."

He doesn't want pity – or those sad and confused puppy eyes – pointed in his direction, so it's like gently flipping a switch. It's a little ridiculous, too, walking back towards Duplicity's provided housing and holding hands like it's his first time all over again. He'd prefer a drink now, but he needs a clear head about this.

Enough, at least, to give Quentin a partially skeptical but curious look.

"I don't need to see your list," he says, dragging them along towards the apartment building and into the lobby once they arrive. Which he certainly would have suggested anyhow because he doesn't want to deal with seeing Quentin's Dom. "Just tell me what you want or don't want. I'm sure we can go from there."

Quentin was quiet as they entered the lobby. God, he was better at this with people he didn't really know. He supposed it was because with random people, he was willing to walk away. And he had, there were people he'd slept with who he didn't anymore because it just wasn't good. This, god forbid, mattered in a way randoms didn't. There was no scratch it and try again elsewhere this time.

It was not a comfortable realization to be having as he stepped into the elevator, finally letting go of Eliot's hand (which he hadn't meant to keep holding but it just kind of...happened). He'd gotten so used to the baseline level of his new-partner anxiety being all he had to worry about, and he was struggling to cope with an elevated level of it. It was a lot to navigate.

"I don't want, like, degradation or humiliation or anything that's supposed to, like, play at making me feel shitty," he said, keeping his eyes on the elevator door. "I mean, you can call me a slut or something but not, like, in a mean way. Does that make sense?"

It's impossible to escape the way those nerves just light up the entire elevator, subtly curling his fingers at the absense of the hand in his and doing his best to casually lean against the back wall as they ascended. There's a stop in between Quentin's request and Eliot's reply—another couple getting on and getting off at the next floor. His expression narrows for a moment, and when they're alone again, he looks at Quentin.

"Is that what you think I get off on?" He skips over it without pause, clearly a rhetorical question. "I'm not going to call you that. I do want you to enjoy yourself."

That much, at least, is genuine. There's no fun in it otherwise. He lightly taps his fingers against his arm, thinking. "Are we going to have to venture into safe words? Is that something you need?"

"I don't think you get off on that," Quentin said patiently. "I don't really know what you get off on, other than Daddy. I just tell everyone, because I would rather say it and be told it won't be an issue than assume it won't be an issue and get fucked up about it," he explained. He understood why Eliot had reacted that way and was tamping down on the urge to get defensive as best he could. He was trying so goddamn hard.

He shrugged about the safewords, eyes still on the numbers as floors passed. "I wasn't gonna bring it up, but it's not bad to know. I just use traffic lights," he said. "I didn't think we were gonna get into anything consent-y that I'd need it for, but you can always ask if you want to check in on me. Um." That did remind him. "If I get...like, really into it? It can be hard to talk," he said, and the door dinged and slid open. He followed Eliot out. "But if you ask for a color or ask yes or no questions I can always answer."

Despite what others perceive about him, he's a simple creature of simple needs. There doesn't need to be anything particularly intense or exciting for him to be into it, and there's a whole lot going on under the surface of all this he'll have to decipher later.

"Better safe than sorry, as you said." Which is good to know, his tone is genuine enough in that regard, but not so necessary right now. He's learning a whole lot about Quentin that he probably doesn't need to know in the long run; this is a one-off, a solution to a problem that should be enough to fix the awkward tension between them. He's trying, but even Eliot knows it's coming off as abrasive and so he adds quietly, "Thanks for telling me."

And there are no wards on the apartment, no tricks to get in. He simply lets them inside and waves a hand at the foyer. "Chez Waugh in its beginning stages. Not all that spectacular, but a few days isn't enough to do anything with it." He removes his jacket and drapes it over a chair. "Shoes off. Do you want a drink?"

Surprising everyone, even himself, he's going to pass, but he does have enough manners to always play host.

Someday, Quentin was going to articulate the connection between anxiety and submissiveness to himself well enough to explain it to someone else, and then all this was probably going to make a lot more sense.

Regardless, Quentin didn't think this was a one-off. It was dangerous to ever assume anything would be a one-off -- the city might always decide you weren't done with each other. It seemed the only way to ensure a one-off was to have totally boring, bad sex, and he somehow did not think that was an option here.

He kicked his shoes off where he was told. "Um, no, I'm...actually, yes, please." A little alcohol could only help relax him, he wasn't going to get drunk. "So, same questions to you," he said. "Anything I should know about? Stuff you like or don't like?"

His hope is to be proactive about this by not letting the city dictate what he was or wasn't going to do (or with who), but he hasn't been there long enough to know those things. Instead, even before Quentin responds, Eliot's already pouring a sizable drink from a decanter on a nearby shelf and handing it off before there's a solid answer. He can sense when someone needs a drink; call it intuition.

"I'm a little more," he stops, glancing at Quentin as he slowly begins to unbutton his vest, "in the moment? I'll tell you if I don't like what you're doing. Or if there's something I want you to do." He loosens his tie and slips it free. "Maybe we can start with something easy. You can kiss me."

There's no point walking circles around why they're both there.

'A little more in the moment.' That sounded a lot like vanilla, or at least a refusal to admit that kink was kink, which wasn't enough to make him walk out immediately but he was learning recently that that wasn't good for him. Maybe it would be a one-off.

He took the drink and downed about half of it. Probably the equivalent of one normal person drink. Good enough, for now. He set it down and stepped up to Eliot, into his space, looking up at him.

For a moment, Quentin was hit with a memory. If Eliot had been wearing Fillorian clothing and an imperiously amused expression, it would have been uncanny. But Quentin took a breath, let the thought pass by him, and reached up to put a hand on Eliot's cheek. He used it to urge the taller man down and then kissed him, eyes closed, simple and slow for now. Not chaste, but not pushy. Just...a beginning.

Maybe he wants vanilla. Maybe, after all this mess, he needs vanilla. His sexual prowess has nothing to do with kink, and there's a certain niceness about being with someone just to experience them as they are that Eliot hasn't allowed himself to have in a while.

Besides, whatever blurred memories he has of that night with Quentin and Margo aren't enough to prepare him for the way Quentin moves in and does as he's told. There would be some quip about it, probably, how he's such a good boy, but Eliot can't think about that right now. The hand against his cheek is warm and light, and there's just enough taste of that alcohol when they kiss to spur him into movement. He drops his tie and cups Quentin's face with both hands, fingers curling to pull him closer. Standing like this, leaning over him so they can kiss, isn't going to stay comfortable for long, but it's enough so he feels more open about the idea of it all. That, in some ways, he might really want this too.

Eliot exhales, dragging his teeth over Quentin's lower lip. "Not so bad, right?"

"Not so bad," Quentin agreed, breathing it against Eliot's lips, and pulled away just far enough to bring his hands to Eliot's buttons. He started to undo the shirt, biting his lip lightly as Eliot's pale skin and dark hair were revealed. He was trying not to think about how familiar it was, or, god, how much he'd missed it.

Whatever he did, Eliot definitely could not find out about the Spring Revel.

He got the shirt undone but didn't move to push it off, not yet. Instead, he looked past Eliot to the bedroom door, then up at him with big, questioning eyes.

It's a look, certainly, and Eliot wears his open shirt well enough. There will be more time to delve into his wardrobe choices later, but for now, he takes the hint without so much as blinking at it, grasping Quentin's wrist to lead him onward into the inner sanctuary of his domain. There's nothing personal about the space yet either; he needs time and less of it spent in a drunk haze.

Something about this says he should be far more gentle too, so he doesn't push Quentin down onto the bed. Instead, he moves in close to tug his shirt over his head—single layer and all that it is. (He's really going to have to talk to him about investing in style one of these days.) Eliot keeps eye contact the entire time, something steadying but intense as he tugs Quentin forward by the waistband of his pants.

He hovers there for a moment, just a blink before he decides to kiss him again. Any longer, and it'll feel awkward, so he takes that out of the equation before either of them can get there.

Style, huh? Quentin could fucking show him style. Gentle or not, Quentin's breath hitched when Eliot hauled him closer by the waistband, and he leaned up into the kiss, pressing into it with more fervor and more heat than before. Eliot was about to discover the barbell through Quentin's tongue -- was that style enough? As they kissed Quentin's hands were working at Eliot's belt and pants, undoing whatever needed undid to get a hand down into them and around his cock.

He doesn't know if it's the solid slide of metal in his mouth or the hand slipping between his legs, but Eliot breaks the kiss with an involuntary breath. It might have been some time since he's seen Quentin and even longer since he's kissed him. Yet, he would have certainly remembered something like a piercing there. Right?

"That's new," he breathes, more amused than anything and somewhat questioning when and possibly why. He's not so unaffected by the grip on his cock either, but he's a little distracted by the thought of Quentin's tongue in his mouth again. So, he indulges and goes after it, sucking at it just enough to get used to the sensation of it against his own tongue.

Quentin had just enough time for a nod and a bit of a grin before Eliot kissed him again. He'd been enjoying the various reactions he got to that. The kiss made him shiver as he stroked Eliot's cock and god, yeah, it was just like he remembered. The sheer thickness in his hand made him want to get his ass in the air and beg, and then it just kept going. Had that paper said anything about him being a size queen? Did Eliot know how horny Quentin was just for that?

He let go and pulled away from the kiss to step back, getting the rest of his clothes off himself -- jeans, then socks, then boxers. He got on the bed, then, and slid back, assuming Eliot would get the rest of his own clothes and join him.

He can probably tell just from how quickly Quentin strips, eyebrow up as he watches the rest of those clothes disappear and how easily he gets onto the bed. There's something about all of this that he has to remember, that he's doing this for the sake of trying to roll back the tension that's risen up between them since Quentin's lifetime together admission. Those are just little details, unimportant when he just needs to be focused on fucking his brains out for the fun of it.

Eliot removes his own clothes after a moment, laying out his shirt so it doesn't wrinkle and not so much caring about the pants. He even takes a few precious seconds to sort through the bedside drawer for the lube he gently tosses in Quentin's direction. Joining him is more about observing than it is being slow, taking in his shoulders and the line of his hips and his cock. Maybe he should have called dibs on him a little louder before all of this, but it's a thought to save for another time.

"Do you want to tell me what you like?" You know, for foreplay reasons. And he asks it even as he strokes a hand down over Quentin's belly.

TDM #25

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