duplicitymemes

Entry tags:

«tdm

TDM #1

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « OUT OF CLUTTER FIND SIMPLICITY

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.

» » » LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

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.

« « « END IN THE DISCORD

While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most.

Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled.

On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either.

» » » TABLE IT FOR LATER

Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments.

To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form.

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

Please read carefully.

On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character 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 chose "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. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of January to June, their designation will be Dominant. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of July to December, their designation will be Submissive. For characters with an unknown birthday, their designation will be Dominant.

Arrival into Duplicity has not been used as a prompt as it is a rather large part of introducing the game and will be saved for the first in-game log. But feel free to thread it on the TDM. Also, any locations throughout Duplicity are available for TDM prompts as well!

Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!!

» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Thank god probably shouldn't be the first thing that pops into his head when he sees Steve Rogers on his hands and knees. To be clear, he's not praising the man upstairs for putting Rogers in a position of humiliation, no, it's- frankly, if he's going to be forced to partner up with someone pretending to be a god damn table he'd be ecstatic for it to be someone he knows.

He's taking long strides across the floor the moment he hears his name, and he's nearly there by the time the table upends. ]

Shit-

[ Is out of his mouth the second a wine glass rolls across the carpet, unbroken but the contents clearly spilled. As though on cue, a few of the more stringent dominants seem to shift forward like they plan on taking corrective action. Barnes levels the closest one with a dark look that clearly reads 'I'll stab you if you take another step', and evidently it's got enough conviction that the others falter too.

But they've got an audience now, and they've got roles to play, and if he doesn't do something corrective they'll soon have more active participants than onlookers. Sorry, Steve.

He passes a hand along his mouth, and there's a subtle note of apology in his brow that probably only Steve knows him well enough to pick up on. The rest of him is all rigid, and in a voice firm enough that their audience can hear he orders: ]

Pick it up.

❰ for a long moment steve doesn't move, doesn't speak, only stares at bucky in wonder. the last time he'd seen bucky he was half-conscious, falling into the potomac, ready to die if he couldn't bring bucky back to himself. bucky'd been torn halfway between his programming and steve, hanging from the railing of the helicarrier by his metal arm, and he'd seemed... there aren't words. if there are, steve doesn't know them. steve had dislocated his arm.

the bucky standing in front of him now looks different. his hair is still long, but he's broader, now, thicker. healthier. he has colour in his cheeks and an awareness to his expression that the winter soldier had never had.

just looking at him is enough to make steve's stomach twist. he barely hears the command — who cares about their roles, who gives a shit, bucky's in front of him. the outside world might as well not exist.

but it does exist, and the longer steve waits to respond, thw closer the other dominants creep. it's not worth the disruption to force them to step in. at least if he obeys bucky, this can be between the two of them, and steve doesn't have to care about anyone else for a few minutes. maybe he and bucky can partner up and leave the party, even. that is worth his obedience.

slowly, steve bows his head, breaking eye contact with bucky and reaching to right the tray and the glasses. ❱

Yes, sir.

[ The exhale he releases is audible only to himself and to Steve; the second eye contact breaks and Steve obeys their audience seems mollified. They fall back and cast now only wary occasional glances their direction. Too much scrutiny for an outright reunion, but lax enough that his shoulders lose some of their hardened tension.

Steve collects the glass and Barnes drops down onto one knee beside him, catches the stem of it somewhere just above Steve's fingers and takes it himself. He uses the guise of balancing it between Steve's shoulder blades to get in close enough that he can murmur quietly. ]

You calling me sir, that's a first. Gotta put that on some kind of calendar somewhere.

[ It's obviously a joke, but his expression doesn't shift from neutral as he says it. Smiling at a sub he just corrected would probably give their game away, and he's nothing if not an expert in schooling his emotions by now. ]

You okay?

[ The loose and easy dialogue may give away the fact that Bucky hasn't quite yet picked up on their little timeline discrepancy, he's taken Steve's excitability as simply a product of the utterly alien nature of the world around them. Nothing greater. ]

❰ the dissonance between what steve had expected — for bucky to be nearly non-verbal, not to recognise steve, maybe to attack him — and how bucky is acting is almost painful, the gear shift from awed wariness to the teasing of their youth one that nearly makes steve's brain stall out entirely. bucky is behaving as though he remembers their shared lives, at least enough to know that steve's never called him sir. last he saw bucky, the winter soldier had beaten him to within an inch of his life for even suggesting that they knew each other.

it's a lot for steve to take in. the relief, the confusion, all of it weighs on him far more than a stupid tray could, and for a moment he's grateful for the task that's been given him, humiliating though it is — at least if he has something to do, he won't just be standing around staring at bucky with a dumbfounded expression. steve has always preferred to have a mission than to stand idle.

steve holds himself still as bucky balances the glass on his back, resisting the urge to turn his head toward bucky's voice through sheer force of will, but the huff of a disbelieving laugh he can't help shakes his shoulders and wobbles the glass. he waits, still again, for the glass to settle, and then speaks, voice hushed. ❱

I should be asking you that, pal.

[ Eventually he'll pick up on the subtle differences between the Steve he left and the Steve that's here now, but they're so close in time that he can't distinguish the few little bits and pieces of wrinkle and scruff that separate him. Especially not with his head bowed toward the floor, with his eyes downcast, with every bit of him doing something so un-Steve-like that it's almost hard to wrap his head around it.

It's a real struggle not to reach out and steady that glass for him, but he knows such an act is crossing the line. He's supposed to be dominant, and he thinks maybe doing the job for Steve doesn't really meet that criteria. Even so, metal fingers flex absently with the desire, then settle into a curled, loose fist at his side.

He settles back on his haunches like he's studying Steve's posture, taking stock of the job he's doing.

The question isn't enough to tip Steve's hand either, really. Last he remembers is the hiss of cryostasis, mists and ice enveloping him inside of a Wakandan test tube. Asking how he's doing after something like that isn't odd, nor would it be at any other point in his timeline leading up to it considering he's a ticking time bomb of murder and angst. ]

Hanging in there.

[ Is what he says, calm and neutral like it's not the first conversation they've had since he nearly beat Steve's brains out over the Potomac. A careful hand reaches out to settle on Steve's lower back, something that could be construed as a correction to his posture or, perhaps, the caress of an approving dom over a job well done. Bucky just means it to be reassuring, and to help the eyes of observers gloss over them naturally. ]

If we can sell this I can get us one of the private rooms, but I've been scoping them. Looks like they send people around to check every so often if they're not- contracted.

[ Which, he guesses, is what they call married here or something. ]

So we'll be contracted, ❰ steve says, matter-of-fact. like it's simple, like there isn't anyone else he'd rather have in the position — it is, and there isn't. bucky being here, bucky remembering him, means everything else is extraneous. there wouldn't be anyone else he'd want to sign a contract with, not that he's seen here — natasha, maybe, or sam — bucky's it. it doesn't matter what a contract entails, steve trusts bucky with himself if not with the fate of the world, and he'll do whatever it takes to get them into a private fucking room.

the hand that comes to rest on steve's back sends a shiver down his spine, reminds him of winter nights spent sleeping together in a too-small bed, of summer days spent sticky and shirtless and complaining about the heat. of a fist slamming into his face and a shoulder ramming into his gut. he and bucky were never afraid to touch each other, were always affectionate, but the last time bucky laid hands on him it was not with affection.

he can't stand this, they need to talk. face-to-face, as equals, not with steve knelt in front of bucky, unable to meet his eyes. he has to find out what bucky remembers. ❱

How do we get a room, what do we have to do?

[ He huffs out a breathy sound that could almost be a laugh, except it's lacking genuine humor. ]

I'm not so sure it's that simple, pal.

[ Which is to say, yes, eventually, absolutely. There isn't a person on this or any other planet he'd rather sign up with, but they can't exactly do that right here, right now. He's pretty sure there's some kind of process, or paperwork, or something in the way of them getting the utmost privacy they'd like at this moment.

Getting a room, at least, is something he can manage for them. He settles back to grimly survey the area around them, the patrolling dominants who seem to have largely gotten over Steve's outburst now that he's back in submission. The chattering of socialites who have certain expectations that don't include two men of unequal social standing hugging it out here in public. Funny how things have changed from what they're used to, the stark opposite of that 1940s mentality where it'd almost be fine if they started necking but acting like platonic, normal men is out of the question.

He blows a long breath out of his nose. ]

Well, first off you gotta channel someone other than you for five minutes and somehow slink across the room without punching a hole into people with your eyes.

[ Which might actually be the biggest challenge. He's seen people walk other people with leashes, he's seen them crawl like dogs, he's seen them simper forth with downcast eyes like servant boys, but he hasn't seen a single marked sub walk with their head held high toward one of those private rooms. ]

❰ steve would be annoyed if it weren't a fair note — and, really, he's annoyed anyway, because fuck you, barnes, he can look like he doesn't want to punch people. he very often doesn't look like he wants to punch people. and anyway, he only wants to punch people who deserve it, and it is not his fault that every dominant in this room, present company excluded, deserves it.

rolling his eyes wouldn't be very submissive of him, though. neither would cracking wise, much as he wants to fall back into their old pattern. instead, steve takes a deep, steady breath, careful not to disturb the glass still balanced between his shoulder blades, and tries to... empty his mind. go someplace that isn't here, doing this, on his hands and knees with bucky just out of reach and a bunch of people watching him — no, he's thinking about this too hard. he narrows his focus instead to bucky's hand, still settled on his back, and tries to force himself not to care about anything outside of it. the pressure is calming, almost, safe. this is bullshit, they both know it's bullshit, but they're in it together. no matter what else has happened, the time and suffering and death that lies between them, steve trusts bucky. he won't let the craziness of this place put steve anywhere he doesn't want to be, won't use his status to push steve around, and won't let any other dominant try it either. if this was the winter soldier, he wouldn't be able to relax, but it isn't. it's bucky, and it's steve, and so it's marginally less bullshit.

marginally less bullshit is as good as it's likely to get, and steve could almost appear to be a dutiful submissive, with his loose shoulders held perfectly in place and his eyes on the floor, if one hadn't seen his previous outburst. this is as close to not him he's going to get, probably. maybe he won't simper, definitely he won't crawl, but he can... relax. let bucky lead him, just for now. ❱

Good enough? ❰ so get to that leading thing, buck. ❱

[ He can feel the subtle shift in Steve's spine as he inhales long and low and deep. Can feel it settle into something a little more relaxed at the exhale, the glass between his shoulders seems stable and rock-solid for the first time aftward. Almost subconsciously, Bucky's hand starts to move. They're soft, slow circles of encouragement - like he's petting Steve out of approval. Working what support he can into the fabric of Steve's shirt somewhere near the base of his spine.

It is better, Bucky will give him that. There's no doubt the effort is genuine, and the trying is what really matters, not the succeeding. People can spot a real effort to submit from a mile away, and he thinks that'll give them at least a few minutes of privacy before someone shoves their face into the room to make sure the sub's being treated properly, or that he's being obedient.

So Bucky leans up and carefully plucks the glass out from between Steve's shoulder blades. Settles it absently on the floor beside him, and murmurs: ]

Good job.

[ Somewhere in between the movements. And then he shifts, rising above Steve in a graceful motion. ]

On your feet, sweetheart.

[ He says, commandingly enough for listening ears to be satisfied and just neutrally cadenced enough that nobody but Steve will be able to pick up on the tiniest kernel of mockery in the words. ]

❰ if steve rises up a bit too quickly, hopefully no one will say anything. he's new to this, after all, a lier unfamiliar with the ways of the up and down. he'll find his place eventually, and he made such a genuine effort — hopefully that's what they think, as steve moves from hands and knees to his feet in one swift, quick motion, like he was waiting for permission the entire time.

he takes a moment just to look at bucky, pressing his luck but who the fuck cares when bucky is here, healthy and aware and full of memories. the shadow of the winter soldier still looms large in steve's mind, a ghost story he needs to understand, but — jesus, for a moment, he can let this be simple. for a moment, he can just have his best friend back from the dead. steve tried to figure out how to live in the future, he did, he fumbled numbly through two years of trying to figure it out, but it feels like he hasn't really taken a breath since he woke up in times square, and now —

and now there's bucky. he can breathe again. not even the mockery in bucky's tone can mar the moment.

finally, reluctantly, he allows his gaze to fall, settling on bucky's feet instead of on his face. he can't make the first move, he knows, so he waits for bucky's direction, already leaning toward the private rooms. ❱

[ He meets that gaze with an inscrutable expression of his own, schooled over for the sake of their company. There's a hell of a lot he'd like to say, ranging from I'm so damn glad to see you to keep your eyes down or you're gonna blow our cover, and it seems through sheer force of will and a long stare Steve finally manages to drop his gaze.

It's alien to see. Steve's had a determined glare that borders on defiance ever since Bucky's known him, even a whole head shorter he'd always done his best to full-on stare people into submission. Except women, those apparently he couldn't quite look in the eye. It's almost like that now, being one of the girls on a double date they always went on, with Steve dropping his bashful gaze to the ground.

Almost like that, but not quite. Something unsettling thrums in him, and he sets his jaw to ignore it. Reaches up to pluck at Steve's sleeve in a silent come on gesture, and leads him with set shoulders toward the hallway where unoccupied rooms are left with open doors and waiting do not disturb placards hanging from the handles. ]

That one.

[ He murmurs, nodding Steve in before him to one a few doors down from the nearest occupied room. ]

❰ it's harder to follow bucky than he'd expected — though that's not quite right, is it. following bucky has been easy, ever since they were kids. they followed each other, then, took it in turns to lead the other around. steve led bucky into back-alley scraps and bucky led steve into science fairs, and when they grew up bucky went to war and steve followed and he kept following until he couldn't. following bucky isn't hard, he's been doing it almost since he could walk.

following behind bucky, eyes downcast, trying to make himself small, just for the privilege of a few minutes alone with the dead best friend he hasn't seen in two fucking years —

that's hard. that's what makes steve's hands clench into fists as he walks, the strain returning to his shoulders as he tries to force himself to think only of what matters. time alone with bucky, time to ask what he remembers, to soak in his presence. that's what he's after, that's what makes this ridiculous show worth it.

never in a million years did steve imagine he'd miss the days of the uso. at least then he was just a dancing monkey, for cripes sake.

it's a maddeningly slow walk to the door bucky's indicated, but as soon as they've made their way into it, steve barely waits for the door to close behind them before he turns around, reaching to pull bucky into a tight hug. ❱

Buck.

❰ he means to say more, but even when steve opens his mouth nothing else comes out. there's no words to encompass everything he's feeling, all the questions he has, all the relief he feels. bucky's okay. he's here. everything else pales in comparison. ❱

[ The door clicks quietly shut and before he can even get a chance to give it a once-over Steve's upon him. Not that he's complaining, hell no, he's well and truly pleased to wrap his arms around Steve, one over the shoulder and one under like nothing's changed in the century they've known one another. It's not a short affair either, he settles his chin on the cusp of one broad shoulder, furls his fingers into the bunches in Steve's shirt fabric.

It seems like the right thing to do, even if he can't quite put a name to the desperation behind Steve's grip. Chalks it up to being forcibly thrown out of his depth and into a social expectation so very unlike himself, chalks it up to another undesired and unrequested change in scenery - hell, maybe change in entire planet, he can't really know for sure.

Either way he's happy to take a minute to let Steve get his bearings, and when he ultimately does pull back it isn't all the way - just far enough to settle a flesh hand on Steve's bicep, and to look him over with clear concern knitting his brow. ]

Jesus, who died?

[ It's meant to be a joke, a little sarcastic levity, but he senses it won't go over so well even before he says it. ]

❰ it's a joke. steve knows it's a joke — hell, it's a joke bucky's made before, when they had close calls in the war. it's a joke.

that doesn't stop steve from flinching as soon as the words are out of bucky's mouth, moving away from bucky on instinct, like he wants to put physical distance between himself and the joke.

bucky died. bucky worse than died, but for years steve thought he was dead and he just — he had to live with that, he had to live like that, like the world made sense without bucky there to share it with him. sixty some-odd years in the future, and the worst thing to adjust to wasn't inflation or technology or tony goddamn stark, it was looking over his shoulder, waiting to see bucky, and realizing he was never going to see him again. over and over he had that realisation, and every time it was like bucky had died all over again. it never stopped being a punch in the gut, remembering that bucky just — wasn't there. would never be there again.

and then fast forward two years, when the ache was finally starting to dull around the edges, and it turns out bucky was so much worse than dead, and it was steve's fault.

it was a joke. ❱

I didn't think you remembered, Buck, ❰ he says, turned partially away from bucky, rather than deal with any of that. bucky doesn't need to worry about it, and steve doesn't want to dwell on it. ❱ You were pretty adamant about not remembering. What happened?

[ Something ripples across his expression like pond water, from disbelief to uncertainty to - it can't be realization if he doesn't understand it, can it? There'd been no room for misunderstanding in those days they spent on the lamb, talking about how fucked up Barnes was mentally - but not because he didn't remember.

Because he did. There's absolutely no doubt in his mind that Steve knew he remembered every scrap of everything, so why he's acting now like they haven't already had this whole conversation a few times over is almost baffling.

What'd they do, scrap Steve's memories this time around instead of Bucky's? What the hell kind of sense does that make? What the hell is the point of this whole thing? ]

When's the last time you saw me?

[ He asks instead because he needs to know just exactly how much they took from Steve. Needs to know what ground they last stood on.

He has a sinking feeling he knows already. ]

❰ that's — not what steve was expecting. it's surprise enough that he turns back to bucky, brow furrowed, trying to follow whatever leaps bucky's making and failing. ❱

Right before I woke up here. The helicarriers were going down.

❰ there's still the shadows of bruising around steve's eyes, a mostly-healed gash on his lip visible once you know what to look for. hands and knees was only slightly harder a position to maintain with the quickly-knitting gunshot wounds in his abdomen and thigh. ❱

Christ.

[ It's the only thing that clears his lips at first, and this time it's him reeling back to put a little distance between them. A hand passes over his mouth, eyes flicker from Steve's face to anywhere else. God, Jesus- yeah, that explains a hell of a lot, doesn't it?

He's got to take a moment to replay every line of dialogue between them since the second Steve said his name, and with this new context behind it? It feels a hell of a lot more serious than he'd been playing it. Add that to the list of shit he feels guilty for, somewhere ten or so lines beneath beating Steve almost to death - which is, apparently, Steve's most recent memory.

He ran from that moment for nearly two years. Selfishly hid from it until the pain in Steve's eyes hardened into determination, which was about a million times easier to face. He hadn't been in his right mind when he stared down at Steve's black eyes and busted lip, he'd had a layer of fog between himself and reality that made the whole thing softer and easier to bear.

That luxury is gone, and the memories filter in with a vividness only an eidetic super-serum memory can afford.

He breathes out slowly, and then flickers his eyes back to Steve at last. ]

That's been a while.

[ He rasps finally, an incomplete explanation but - it's a start, at least. ]

Hey —

❰ steve reaches out, unthinking, when bucky reels back, stepping back into his space and grabbing at his bicep. it doesn't matter that he'd just done the same thing, he's not even thinking about that, all that matters is bucky shouldn't look like that. it's only when steve has his hands on bucky that his words actually process, and then the confusion returns to his face. ❱

Been a while? I fell, I woke up here. How long...

❰ hydra wiped bucky's memories. they had to have, somehow, for him not to know steve at all, to work for them. could they have done the same to steve? begun the process and then been stopped by l.i.e.s before it could be completed? the idea sits like a lead weight in steve's stomach, and he stares at bucky, ashen-faced. ❱

[ The touch is grounding, it eases some of the tension if not the guilt. He steadies beneath Steve's palm, doesn't move in closer just yet but doesn't pull back either. That, at least, is something.

I fell, I woke up here- god, not even a day? Not even long enough to know that Bucky pulled him out of the river? The first piece of a puzzle that he took months to put together on his own, museum trips and history books and god damn Wikipedia. ]

Years. Maybe two.

[ He says, because those first few months had been rocky and patchwork for him. He thinks it's been about two, give or take a few months. Hard for him to put an exact number on it, but he knows it's well over one.

There is one thing he can at least reassure Steve of, though- he reaches out again to settle a flesh hand on Steve's neck, fingertips curling beneath his ear dipping into his hairline. ]

I remember.

[ So if they did fuck with Steve's brain, chances are he'll remember too. Eventually, maybe not right now, not for a few months if Bucky's progress was any real indication, but. It's not as bad as it could be. ]

❰ two years. steve tries, he wracks his brain trying to come up with anything beyond the helicarriers, but he can't remember a damn thing that isn't plummeting from the ship, watching the outline of bucky go fuzzy and dark as he lost consciousness. that's all he's got, it's as far as his memory goes, and the idea that hydra could have taken two years from him is horrifying, enraging —

but bucky remembers. bucky knows him, and he'd thought that maybe bucky never would, so whatever was lost can be regained.

steve is attempting to come to terms with that idea when there's a knock at the door, perfunctory, before it begins to open. he makes eye contact with bucky for a second, grimacing, before dropping to his knees before bucky, ducking his head and fisting his hands against his thighs. the dominant who enters the room doesn't notice, or maybe doesn't care, and doesn't pay attention to steve at all, treating him like just another piece of furniture in favor of addressing bucky.

they need to get out of this place. they need to go somewhere they can be themselves, figure out what steve's missing and what they're going to do in this place. unfortunately, steve has no idea where that would even be, too new to have any sense of any place that could be called safe by either of their standards. ❱

[ It feels like he's got a million words to say, a million apologies to murmur to Steve for putting him through everything he did. He's not sure any amount will be enough, but he plans on saying them until the cows come home. Or until the door opens, and promptly cuts off any notion he's got.

Reaching forward to slide his fingers into Steve's hair is an automatic gesture, something he doesn't even think about. It feels natural to do so, a soothing touch meant to placate even as he turns his full attention on their company. They aren't still, it's a constant threading motion of fingertips sliding through strands and pressing against scalp gently. Petting.

Hello, sir. I'm sorry to interrupt. Are you enjoying the exercise? The volunteer asks, a polite and professional smile upon his face with. He carries a genuineness and a lightness about him, either he's been broken by the system or he takes to his role with pleasure. He's devout. He's someone it is necessary to convince rather than to meet vague checkpoints without effort.

Barnes doesn't smile at him, but his lips purse into a line much akin to the expression people make at one another when they awkwardly pass in a hallway. ]

He's good. [ He says instead, threading fingers constantly working. ] But new. Still learning.

[ The volunteer nods like he'd expected as much. He seemed like he was acting up in public, a very bad habit. I had a few like that. I'm quite experienced in training them, if you'd like some pointers?

The grip in Steve's hair goes a little tight for a second before he can restrain himself, just a brief snatch of roughness and the barely quelled urge to clench his fists. ]

I'm alright, thanks.

[ Coolly cadenced and politely terse, just strained enough for Steve to hear but not so much that the volunteer picks up on it. Undeterred, he steps further into the room. No really, I insist, it's no trouble-

Barnes squares up a little, brow knitting. ]

Trust me, he's learned his lesson. Haven't you, sweetheart?

[ The question is pitched to Steve, eyes ducking, fingertips curling a warning at Steve's crown. Sell it, please, if you want that privacy back. ]

❰ if steve has to be on his knees in front of anyone, at least it's bucky. at least it's someone who's touched him in this way before, who steve actually does get a measure of calmness from — being pet is frustrating, certainly, but it's bucky. bucky who's been a constant in steve's life since they were both small, bucky who's always been tactile. the gentle carding of his fingers through steve's hair sets steve at ease despite himself, and after a moment, steve's eyes begin to slip closed as he leans into bucky's hand. if he just ignores what they're sayig, that there's anyone else in the room at all, it could almost be the touching reunion he would have wished for.

but bucky's voice goes tense and his fingers grip tightly into steve's hair, and steve's eyes snap open, tension returning to his shoulders. the other dominant steps into the room and steve rocks back on his heels, ready to put space between himself and the man, and then bucky's addressing him and steve pauses.

it takes a moment before he moves, bending forward with halting movements to kiss bucky's boot. ❱

Yes, sir, ❰ he says, and he's not quite as good at hiding his feelings as bucky is — the tension in his voice is almost palpable. his hands have remained clenched on his thighs this entire time, and he can feel his nails beginning to bite into his palm.

submitting to bucky wouldn't be difficult on its own. he knows bucky, trusts him, knows neither of them would ascribe the act more meaning than it merits. but to be observed like this, to be forced into it and expected to perform no matter his own feelings — that is what grates. that is what makes steve's shoulders a sharp, squared line where he is prostrated before bucky, tension and resentment simmering underneath his skin. it's almost like it had been before the war, before the serum, when he'd been expected to just sit back and take it when the shops around the neighbourhood refused him jobs because he was a mick, or because he was small. it engenders the same kind of anger, when steve had thought he'd left that behind. ❱

[ What the fuck. It's hard, really hard, to keep his eyebrows from shooting up at that extra little touch - who the hell knew Steve had it in him? Actual, honest to god boot kissing. He'd videotape it if he didn't think Steve would take the recorder and shove it down his throat.

He manages, by the skin of his teeth, to school his surprise into approval which he flashes at the intruding dom at their threshold. As a sign of his praise, his hand drops again to the back of Steve's neck, where fingers press softly into muscles and rub the tension in them.

He levels their unwanted observer with a look that reads see? The guy seems suitably impressed.

Funny, I'd had him pegged as a rebellious little guy and Barnes finds it hilarious that anyone can unironically call Steve little these days. He takes it to mean social status, that regardless of physical size or strength of merit he sees all subs as small. Fingers press harder, a sort of warning because he feels like that's the type of thing to set Steve's teeth on edge. ]

Yeah, well, once you know how to break 'em it's all downhill, so.

[ And if he sounds a little dark when he says it, it's because it's all a little too personal for him. And this has been quite enough, thanks. He motions toward the door. ]

If you wouldn't mind, I think we're gonna need some privacy for this next part. You understand.

[ If you're interested in a third- ]

Get out.

[ Yes sir, and the door eases quietly closed again behind him. The second it clicks shut Bucky's hand drops, and he scoffs an incredulous sound that shreds his throat with the size of his disbelief, the fucking audacity. ]

Something tells me he's gonna be back.

❰ steve is by no means a spy, but he has learned some things from natasha recently — chief among them being to play to the desires and expectations of people he doesn't want to notice him. be a boy kiss a pretty girl so rumlow's eyes gloss over them in the mall, be who you need to be in the moment so that you can get out of the moment —

it's possible steve took this a bridge too far, though, and he can almost feel the quizzical tension from bucky, wonders if it was too much, if he leaned too hard into the submission — but the other dominant appears to approve, at least, seeming appeased by the display. it's as though he read steve's mind, honestly, calling him little, and maybe he's been bigger for the past few years but he was small his whole life before that, and it's only bucky's warning hand that keeps steve from reacting. he can't avoid the tension that rockets through him at bucky's tone, and almost reels back when the dominant offers to stay, but bucky's hand holds firm just long enough for the dominant to leave and close the door behind him. steve's up like a shot after that, one hand going to bucky's shoulder, the other reaching for his cheek. ❱

You alright there, pal?

❰ it's been easy to forget that this bucky is not the bucky of his youth. he talks the same, jokes the same — when steve's on his knees he can almost pretend bucky's hair is still short. bucky's never touched him with the metal arm. but the darkness in his voice — it's a stark reminder of the things bucky has been made to endure, and steve can't let himself forget that. this has to be as hard for bucky as it is for him.

they'll deal with that asshole whenever he makes a reappearance. for now, steve wants to check in with bucky. ❱

[ Steve's up, Barnes is down - at least, his shoulders are. The tension eases out of him minutely the second the door's closed, and his lips press together into an unhappy line even as Steve grazes fingers along his cheek. Steve handles him with delicacy and concern, which he supposes can be easily chalked up to lack of face time on his part. He probably assumes Bucky's mental state is fragile, it's a reasonable assumption, but he's nothing if not an expert at compartmentalizing now.

He's grim and maybe a little inscrutable when he murmurs a firm: ]

I'm fine.

[ Because he is. Because it'll take a hell of a lot more than some asshole in a suit to shake his foundations, even if he can't deny the visceral discomfort he feels about this whole thing.

At least he's not the one that has to be a table, right? He does, however, hold up a hand. One firm no. ]

Rule number one, no boot kissing.

[ Even if he were inclined to lord his status around and adopt a submissive, that wouldn't be on the table. It's just- it's humiliating for the sake of being humiliating, it's degrading, they're dirty. Anything he'd do in this hypothetical role for punishment or contrition would have a point, serve a purpose, teach some kind of lesson, not just grind an inferiority complex into them like they're some kind of god damn dog.

Steve deserves better than that, and that's not the kind of person Bucky ever wants to be. ]

bless you

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject