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duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
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TDM #1
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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. |
 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. |
 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. |
 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. |
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!! |
no subject
the ability to pick a partner was accommodating.
they don't go into a deep discussion about their mismatched timelines and establish an easy and somewhat light-hearted mood. that is shattered the moment dean walks in. sees him. walks right out. his head tips to the side, confused. they'd agreed to try this out. castiel is under no misconceptions that he has much to offer in the way of experience or that he looks anything close to the women in that den of iniquity. he is, however, following the instruction given him to the best of his ability.
the door opens. ]
If I am doing it wrong, Dean, I can do something else.
[ they explained that the act wasn't strictly sexual. there was a power dynamic at play and he was willing to try it out. but he had to be just as accommodating for this to work, right? ]
A table.
[ a bed? he could be a bed. would dean just lay on top of him? ]
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Shushshhhzhhh-
[ Is the immediate response Cas gets to his offer to change it up, accompanied by a wild flailing of his hands and a vague push of the air with his arms. Almost looks like he's trying to fan away the smell of bullshit from the room, because this is so far from anything he ever pictured having to do with Castiel, Warrior of God.
Brothels aside, this is- a whole lot more hands on than he really bargained for. ]
Let me think, god damn it.
[ Chair, chair, chair- chair.
He's just a chair. Being a chair. Chairs are made of wood- nope, stop right there, Spice Girl. We are not going down that train of thought. He traces his mouth with his fingers, opens it, drags the pad of his index finger and his thumb down the corners. ]
Okay, so I just- what- I sit on you until-
[ Oh, Jesus Christ. Another flail. ]
No, shut up, don't tell me, I'm supposed to be the one in charge.
[ He can do this, he can do this, he's the little engine that could. Ugh, why is this the real life. ]
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Yes, Dean. You just sit on me.
[ no, he didn't understand either. castiel was almost certain that he was doing this all wrong. but he does shut up. dean was in charge. he was the one who was going to decide how everything went. which he could, possibly, allow to happen. he was learning what this meant to him as they went along and the woman giving the demonstration had mentioned was fine.
so he shut up. let dean think it over. but the longer they didn't say anything, the more he wanted to fidget.
it was not his fault that his mind began to wonder far, far away. power dynamics. intimacy. sex. power dynamics with dean winchester. intimacy with dean winchester. sex with dean winchester. dean winchester was a good looking man. well sculpted features. was it his mouth that was the most attractive, hypothetically and completely from an unattached observant's perspective, or was it the color of his eyes? he's seen both up close. closer than dean usually prefers but he's trying to get the hang of 'personal space'.
he clears his throat. ]
We don't have to do this.
[ he would find someone else, if he had to. but did he want to? that was a question best left unanswered for now. ]
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Secretly, admittedly, he might be vividly imagining the look John Winchester would give him- not even what he'd say, because he wouldn't say a damn thing, but he'd give Dean this judgemental ass look- He shakes his head to clear it, sets his jaw. Couple decades of unresolved issues with that whole thing actually do more to push him over the edge in favor of trying this, so here they are. ]
Nope- [ He declares again, waving away the offer, pursing his lips, shit together. ] Nope, we're good. I'm good. I got this.
[ He strides over, slow bow-legged steps until he's about a foot away, and then falters again. Holds up a hand in warning. ]
This never leaves the room.
[ Stern, an order. The only way he's gonna be able to do this is if nobody ever finds out and they don't have to talk about it out in the real world over god damn milkshakes.
Cas sits there stiffly and unfalteringly, knees bent, perfect ninety degrees. Thighs exactly parallel to the floor, arms bracketing the space he's meant to occupy and... Fucking lord, have they ever been that close before outside of the occasional hug? He can't remember. Okay. Here goes nothing
Just play it cool, hombre. He sits. Settles back hoping like hell he doesn't feel an angelic dick way too close to places he doesn't want to think about, shifts back until his shoulders press into Castiel's chest, until Cas's face is somewhere just beside his right ear. Close, close close, so fucking close that his skin prickles uncomfortably and the hair on the back of his neck sticks up. Chest feels tight. Warm, human-ish, soft flesh but firm body, and... yep, this is definitely exactly what he imagined it would feel like to sit on another man's lap.
There's a little lump in his throat that he tries to swallow, to speak around, not quite hitting the humor-mark when he rattles off: ]
Can I get a pony, a Nintendo, maybe one of those over-sized candy-canes to sharpen into a shiv to slit my wrists with?
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castiel doesn't know how that is supposed to make him feel. he could understand why dean would say that and a normal reaction might be to take it offensively. be embarrassed by what they were doing. ashamed. but he doesn't feel any of that. angels never viewed homosexuality the same way as humans have. not all, anyway. for castiel it's an order from a dominant to a submissive. further, friend to friend. dean didn't want anyone to know and castiel wouldn't tell them.
he doesn't move. back straight and arms stiff, though the urge to wrap them around dean is stronger than it should be. should he? no. he wasn't given permission. ]
Dean. [ his voice is low and deep and right by the hunter's ear. ] I'm not Saint Nikolaus.
[ santa clause. father christmas. pelznickel. he did understand that reference and is a little proud of the fact. though his dominant lost him somewhere between candy canes and shivs.. suicide wasn't a joking matter, dean. ]
Now what?
[ were they really supposed to sit there? what was he going to feel? a bodily reaction. a physical response to the stimuli of having a warm body balanced on his thighs. an emotional response. castiel was struggling to make the connection that the people in this city seem to already have. if it was about power and control, what would he get out of it. he'd agreed to try and he is trying.
there's a low hum, a gentle buzz in the back of his gut. forming slowly and coming from every part of his body that was touching a part of dean's. ]
no subject
You don't say.
[ Is his flat answer, voice lowering subconsciously to match Cas's, but it lacks conviction. Too busy trying to mentally catalog every aspect of this without losing his nerve.
The physical, first and foremost:
-Breath against his ear, vibrations rumbling through Cas's chest when he talks.
-Knees digging into the back of his. Not so pleasant. He adjusts, shifts his left and right leg out in either direction respectively and draws his heels back until they don't quite hit the floor anymore, the inside of his calves meet the outside of Cas's. A little taller, so it works. Better, although he can't support his own weight anymore. Cas gets the full effect of him settling comfortably down and back, hips to hips.
-Shoulders relaxing a little so his right shoulder ducks beneath Cas's chin. Puts them almost cheek to cheek, but at least it's comfortable.
-What do I do with my hands. He settles for tentatively crossing his arms over his chest, just because if he puts them anywhere else it'll be on Cas's body which is Too Much right now.
The mental, second:
-Uncomfortable with intimacy, but that's just a given. Sex is easy, intimacy is hard. He usually doesn't stick around the next day, and he doesn't usually know the person from Eve beforehand. He's had a grand total of three women he felt emotionally connected to, and branching out further for it to be a dude?
-But it's Cas, who he trusts, and who is trying to adapt, and who he has... really internalized... things about that he doesn't talk about or examine too closely.
-Does something like this make you gay? No, that's stupid. Of course it doesn't. He's been on the internet. Something about sliding scales and fluidity and all that hocus pocus crap.
-Is he turned on by this? Well, not so much, but it's Something. These sure are emotions, but of what kind? He hasn't gotten that far yet, he's emotionally constipated, that comes on a little more slowly than the physical part.
A beat passes after the question, murmured so closely he can practically feel lips move against his cheek.
Does his best not to project any of this internalized conflict which - does that defeat the purpose? What is the purpose? ]
Hell, I don't know, feeling dominated yet?
no subject
he does something similar to what dean's doing now, cataloging, but it's to find the source of that gentle and unfamiliar buzz.
dean's thighs are heavy. his entire body is heavy. but the comfortable kind of weight that left cas more confused than before. chest to back, hip to hip, his arms bracketing dean's sides. physically, it was enjoyable. maybe it shouldn't be. it was. castiel isn't supposed to move but he does, his cheek presses to dean's. the gesture shouldn't have been as intimate as it was; for cas it was as good as telling dean that he was there and was giving him support no matter what. ]
No.
[ he didn't feel dominated. dean wasn't dominating him. he was sitting on him. he was feeling something but it definitely wasn't domination. ]
I'm doing it wrong, Dean.
[ he'd take the fall for this. cas' eyes close, tense and frustrated, presses a little closer. his whole body shifts on its own. a light, ruffling movement that has him less a chair and more a sloth clinging from behind. ] Maybe we should find an instruction manual.
no subject
Unexpected. Unsettling. Uncomfortable? Maybe. He licks his lips and then bites the insides of his cheek, steels his jaw to keep from reacting. Has to squash an overreaction or an outburst. Why the hell can he feel that on just about every square inch of his skin for a second?
Get it together, Winchester. Man up.
He sighs as Cas slumps, because even though it's an uncomfortably intimate gesture he can read the disappointment in it. He's trying to think of it less like an embrace and more like a slightly underinflated blow-up chair, except it's... not so much working. They don't make instruction manuals for any of this, sorry pal. ]
Look, you're not- it's not you, okay? This is supposed to be my job.
[ He mutters, echoing the slump perhaps a bit more into Cas's chest, arms crossing a bit more tightly at the admission. His job and, shocker, he's failing at it just like he fails at virtually everything that doesn't involve shooting or stabbing. ]
I'm supposed to- to- boss you around, make you eat lemons, put clamps on your nipples or something, not just- sit here waiting for you to feel oppressed. Hell, you're an angel, you could probably keep this up for, like, a million years before it got to you. You're practically the Lincoln Memorial. I guess I just didn't- think this through well enough, give me a minute, I'll... I don't know, brainstorm something.
no subject
yes. that's it. the gentle buzz grows stronger. that strange feeling was in direct correlation to the fact that he couldn't do anything without dean's permission. he's been under the thumb of a father and dominating brothers, that was not the same as any of this. the intimacy, the mutual agreement to do this, changed everything and cas was certain now that it was why he felt more and more odd each passing second. ]
I don't like lemons, Dean. [ that wasn't the point. he knew that much. ] They said. [ he's going to quote the women from the demonstration. ]
What appeals to me the most is the intense cerebral connection — the mind play and the feelings it conjures in me, sometimes all day long. The words, the orders, the reprimands, the tone and the downright audacity for her to say it all: Never would I allow anyone else to speak to me in this way, or, over all, to have such deep access into my mind, body and heart. And I hear myself responding in ways that similarly shock me — from mouthy and totally improper to meek and pleasing or with no air in my lungs at all. All the while I feel with my mind, heart and full body, the anticipation, the fear, the exposure, my power, her control and protection, desire and love. I not only feel more alive and aware of my sensuality, I learn and own more of myself.
[ there. dean. it was a mental connection and they were close. they could do this. he could submit if dean could dominate. ]
Reprimand me.
[ cas swallows. ]
no subject
He never wants to be that guy that tortured people on the rack in Hell agin, but maybe it doesn't have to be like that for him to tap into this whole... psychology. His lips twitch, he gathers up his will. Hitches up an eyebrow and shifts an inch or so to his left so he can study Castie's expression as he cuts in with a stern: ]
Well, first off, watch your damn mouth and don't tell me what to do.
[ It has conviction, at least. A guarded expression, a low command, and while it isn't... strictly a reprimand, at least he's got his feet back under him. ]
I run the show, I make the rules, so I'm not flogging you for no good goddamn reason. Go ahead and stow that crap right now.
[ And he lets that ring for a second, just so they're clear. If he's gonna be Cas's replacement God or whatever for a while, he's not gonna be a mindless fucking dick. ]
Second of all, sit up. Chairs don't slouch, okay, this isn't nap time.
[ ...so that's a start, right? He falter there like he's considering asking, but manages to momentarily quell the urge. ]
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he opens his eyes to see that lifted brow and get the full effect of that stern voice.
castiel can't, for a few seconds, think. of anything. other than dean, that is. blue-green? eyes that are so close to his and cas can see the appeal of having someone else sit in his lap. the appeal of being commanded to do something that he actually wanted to do. that's why dean wasn't, nor would cas ever place him in that position, a replacement for his father. god didn't ask, he told, and he didn't care whether his children wanted to do it or not. besides, god had abandoned them. dean wouldn't abandon him.
he sits up, arms straight. back straight.
there's nothing to say, really. nothing that would add to the tone and situation, to better it. castiel attempts a slow acceptance of giving dean the control. he imagines each part of his body as dean's. mentally, his well-being is in dean's hands. it's a lot to give over and he assumes a lot to take. that, he believes, is the true appeal to this. intimacy on a deep level and he's never experienced anything like this before.
sorry, dean. but there, nestled against the curve of your ass, in the beginning stages of hardening, is your very own angel chub. ]
no subject
He sucks his cheeks in again and bites down.
Rationally, from that intellectual headspace, it makes complete and utter sense that Cas is into this. Angels have this whole thing about following orders, an exactly worded, exactly written script. You take away concrete terms and they go god damn haywire, they start wars, they go crazy, they fall into chaos. Plus- hey, he gets it, there's a body in his lap, he's a virgin, this is a BDSM thing or whatever, it's completely, totally understandable for him to get a little turned on by the whole thing.
What he doesn't expect is for that to turn himself on a little. The first prickling sensation of heat that comes as a direct response to the feeling beneath him, the second things go firm it hits like a punch to the gut.
Remain calm.
Pupils dilate.
This doesn't leave the room. He shifts a little, just an inch or two, but doesn't pull away. A muscle in his jaw thumps through an internalized mini-freak out.
All he's gotta do is just... pretend. Just go into mission mode, pretend this is a case, or- or- larping, you know, acting. Go into that headspace where he's not Dean Winchester so much anymore, he's whoever the room needs him to be.
Remain calm.
Okay then. They're doing this. ]
Listen- Cas... Before we... [ A pause, because he's not actually... sure what it is they're doing. ] Before we go any further than this, maybe you should give me some kinda... you know, like a safe word if things... go too far, if you're... uncomfortable.
no subject
either way, it was happening.
castiel almost shifts under dean. there's pressure against his groin and he knows that if dean continues to sit there it'll only grow larger. then what? he'd embarrass himself in front of the hunter and enjoy himself while doing so. was he willing to be humiliated? there were limits but he didn't know them yet.
but the question momentarily distracts him from the problem forming. ]
A safe word? [ what would he choose to use. ] Cupid.
[ the word brought up uncomfortable memories and would stop them both in the moment. it was something neither of them would say without provocation. castiel breathes out and it's a mistake. every part of his body that wasn't lined up with dean's, now is. thighs and calves, hips, his lower stomach. everything. ]
Dean.
[ that's new. he'd said dean's name low and deep and with a tone he's never used before. ]
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Frankly, for a second he's thrown off his balance enough that he's considering second guessing this whole thing, but then Cas says his name and-
Well, he ain't ever heard him say it that way before. His thighs clench a little of their own accord as his physiology listens with abrupt and rapt attention. Well I'll be damned.
But it's okay, he's given himself permission to worry about the consequences of this afterward. This is a different space, there are different rules in here, and maybe he's just... free to do whatever the hell it is he wants, because Cas sure as hell isn't gonna judge him. Not if the slow pressure beneath him's anything to go by.
When he speaks again, it's a little steadier, a little lower. A little more firm, lacking the uncertainty from before. ]
See, the way I'm taking this is- you asking to be punished isn't really gonna cut it, because you're not gonna need that, are you, Cas?
[ It's not much of a deviation from his normal speaking voice, is it? Not far from his normal manner of address - a question that's actually a statement. Unhidden authority, the slightest bit antagonistic- no, not antagonistic. Not this time. Maybe sultry is a better word for it- but barely. Just barely, and only if you squint. Without that, it could almost be a normal conversation.
And as he speaks he relaxes a little, legs spreading a wider in a looser posture. Manspreading, like Cas is actually a chair. If it means shifting his hips back a little into a place that makes the angel uncomfortable... well, maybe the point is that he isn't supposed to care about that at all. Maybe it's not supposed to matter whether Cas likes it or not, so long as he's comfortable? ]
I think- I think you're gonna be good. I think you're gonna do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it for once.
no subject
dean's movement did make him uncomfortable. the way his hands flex and fist show how uncomfortable it makes him. there's more weight, a little bit of friction.
cas. a nickname. his nickname. his fingers flex again. why did he like the way it sounded now so much more than he would any other day. it wasn't all that different. dean's tone was. the atmosphere was. ]
No. I'm not going to need it, Dean.
[ he was supposed to respond wasn't he? they had to communicate or lines could get crossed, but the more dean treated him like a chair and told him what to do, the less he felt he could answer. don't give up and give in. allow. let. a common appreciation for the relief of having another person be the best partner they could be. castiel was lacking in flexibility but he was striving to be less rigid. ]
I'll be good.
[ he would. he'd be the lincoln memorial that dean mentioned earlier. as still as he can be.
and he wouldn't let all his worries consume him. it was better than alcohol and he didn't think it'd hurt in the morning. cas was letting that fuzzy feeling float in around the edges. closer and closer. he wasn't sure he could reach it, today or ever, but it was pleasant as it was now. ]
no subject
Any time Cas flaps his ass in, any time there's an electric charge in the air, any time it feels like the world is ionized between them it's always facing one another. It's always looking each other dead in the face, and while cheek to cheek is nice... it just ain't the same.
So he shifts, and for a precarious second it might seem like he's abandoning the whole chair thing. He doesn't. No, he turns instead to straddle him chest to chest, with his knees jutting out somewhere behind Cas and their faces less than a foot apart. Cool guy style, like he's about to have a totally rad conversation about cutting class.
Like this, he can see the subtle tics in Castiel's expression; the slight knit in his brow, the slight part in his lips, the way his adam's apple bobs- a gesture Dean recreates when he finally manages to look Cas in the eyes and it feels like he's swallowed his god damn tongue. His heartbeat skips twice, and then thuds with a vengeance. His lungs feel ragged, raw, compressed.
And like this, groin to groin for the first time, it might become a little apparent that Cas isn't the only one having an involuntary response. Tight blue jeans aren't the most forgiving. Not for either of them probably, with the rough of them pressing down through soft and unprotected cotton.
Worse, but better. Harder for him to keep his head on straight, but there's that little extra spark he felt like this whole thing was lacking so far. Here, up close and personal, he's granted the real unavoidable fact that Cas is shirtless. Bare from hair to boxer shorts, unhidden by Dean's own flannel at his back. Once again at a loss for what he ought to do with his hands, he opts for settling then around Cas's neck like it's the back of a chair, forearms resting heavily on clavical, fingers interlocking a few inches behind his head. Something about this whole thing- being clothed and in layers while the man beneath him is bare, really illustrates the power imbalance they're going for.
And it means his got nothing to fidget with, nothing to put his eyes on that isn't Cas, so they sweep over his features from left eye to right, to lips, to neck, to jawline. Searching him in between flicking them back to meet baby blues. ]
Good.
[ He says of Cas's promise, both hoarse and approving. He works his throat, clears it softly. ]
That's good. That's real good. So talk to me- you run across anything else so far that caught your eye? HBO, Skinemax, anything at that little show out front you're dyin' to try? While we're on the subject and all.
[ Something he can work with, some kind of idea where Cas wants this whole thing to go, so he knows it isn't just... Isn't just him taking advantage. He can't quite separate himself from the idea that somehow if he crosses the line first he's the one putting himself out there, and while it's easy as hell to do with women...
This is Cas.
Maybe after they get some miles under their belt he'll throw out some face down on the bed, but they're not there yet. He's working up to it. Dominating the right way takes time, or maybe he's just a pussy. Hard to say. ]
no subject
a hand moves. stills in the air as dean turns around to straddle his lap.
it was unfair how quickly dean was manipulating his thoughts and probably wasn't even aware of that. groin to groin, cas can feel dean's stomach against his own - in and out with each breath - lower to reveal a physical reaction that was similar to his own. he, castiel an angel of god and warrior of heaven, had through his actions caused dean winchester to feel aroused. that fuzzy, blurring at the edge of his mind explodes. his pupils dilate.
his mouth falls open, their eyes meet, and cas can't get the usually steady rhythm of his breathing even again.
they're at different levels of authority. dean was in control, more so now that he'd turned around and taken the leads of their scene. it's a good question and castiel doesn't know how to answer it. embarrassment isn't a trait that he's experienced often and nothing recently. he doesn't feel that now. he just isn't certain what the best way to start is. ]
I don't know.
[ the words come out stilted. he clears his throat but it does little to help. ]
I've watched, Dean, but.. [ nothing with two men. nothing where two men were copulating or fulfilling a dominant and submissive role. ] Not this.
[ his voice was off, he could hear it himself. cas was struggling to figure out what he wanted, let alone where he wanted it to go. with dean so close, forearm pressed to his upper chest, cas feels helpless. he can't move. breathe. think. not without dean's permission. ]
Tell me.
[ what he wants. ]
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He's doing this. He's causing this. This is fucking Cas, and he's in Cas's lap, and he's god damn hard. A small part of him feels guilty, feels flooded through with discomfort over both his involuntary inwardly-pointed fear of leaving the closet as well as over defiling a god damn angel. Taking advantage of his friend. A much larger part, though, rides high on the taboo of this whole thing. Feels like he's cut loose a tether holding him back. Feels nervous, but excited.
That much is clearly apparent through the front of his jeans, half-hard to full-blown erect by the time Cas finishes his request. Tell me. Alright.
He swallows, throat working, mouth dry. Manages to maintain eye contact even as his arms drop away to strip the flannel off. His black t-shirt is next, fingers gripping it between his shoulder blades and tugging it up over his head. It rucks his hair up a little, but he pays even less attention to that the article of clothing he discards off to the side.
Now, the places their stomachs touch on each inhale are skin touching skin, and he's a little hyper-aware of it every time. ]
Guess we can start off with the basics, huh?
[ He murmurs, a low sort of rasp, voice thick. Following it, he reaches out to take Cas by the wrists. Guides his hands to somewhere toward the back of Dean's sides, presses his palms flat. ]
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dean was changing the rules. he was allowed to, as the dominant, but that didn't keep cas from stumbling to follow along. he was off balance. strong and capable, but choosing to be subdued, responsive, and relinquishing authority. it took a large amount of restraint not to do more than press his palms to dean's sides, close to his rear.
would dean, like the babysitter, want spanked. did that mean he was the pizza man or was dean the pizza man? ]
Are these the basics, Dean?
[ when he spoke more of his body came into contact with the hunter's. little, strange jolts of energy would burst through his skin, and flow down to pool in his abdomen. castiel's thighs flex and relax at the stimulation. his dick hardens and he licks his dry lips.
he'd like to move his hands now. up and over what he assumes will be firm muscle. over shoulder blades. castiel, wants dean to kiss him. the same as he's seen others do. doubt might try to creep in, always there under the surface because he was breaking rules here, but maybe they were allowed. maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they did. ]
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It is true that he's shifting the rules around a little, but - if he's honest with himself, the whole chair thing isn't really his bag. What the hell is he supposed to do with it? Sit there flipping through a Maxim? Maybe the intention was to push a sub to their breaking point, let them stop just before their muscles gave out, but that kinda shtick won't work with Cas. He just isn't built that way, and Dean's ass would get tired before his legs ever would.
So he's changing the game.
He once took Cas to a brothel, paid for a hooker, sent him on his way to finally lose that angelic hymen of his. Five minutes later they're busting ass out the back and Cas was no more devirginated than when they first began. So the game now is this: make it through a decent amount of physical contact without him bringing up post offices or daddy issues or god damn tax reform legislation. ]
The basics are you do what feels good, get it? Whatever you wanna do, whatever you wanna try, don't think, just do.
[ A beat, and then he considers that order. Rethinks it. ]
No- you know what? Ask first.
[ That's better. Just in case his first inclination is watersports and wrestling moves or some weird ass shit like that. ]
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though.. this was turning into sex. he assumed. cas doesn't have all the point of references necessary to be absolutely certain but it seems that way.
if they weren't already where they were, his mind buzzing, and his erection hard and pressed against dean's, castiel might be saying all the things he shouldn't. he'd probably mention sam. god. his brothers. dean's father issues. the way humans change their clothes to sleep and change them again in the morning. espresso machines. why there were so many options on bed sheets. but they're following a line of touching and communication that is working for him. ]
I want.
[ he's supposed to ask and no it's not watersports. but it's something he doesn't know if dean will want him to have. ]
Kiss me, Dean.
[ it's always the first thing people do. passionate kissing. he wants to know what it feels like. ]
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As it stands, he'd been on the edge of doing that already. Teasing along the line, coasting along the desire but without quite the balls to bridge the space. Cas picks up his slack, sees the next obvious step for what it ought to be, and makes the call for him. Just like he always does.
For a second, Dean swears he can feel every square inch of his skin. It all feels flushed and taut all of a sudden, singing and hyper-sensitive, hairs standing on end. He licks his lips absently and swallows right after, throat working.
Kissing a guy. Kissing Cas.
First time for everything, he guesses. Carefully, tentatively, he slides palms along to curl around Castiel's shoulders like anchor points to keep him from spinning off the earth. Flicks his gaze from Cas's eyes to his lips, and dips in slowly, second-guessing himself all the while.
But the forward momentum doesn't stop, not when the foot between their faces becomes six inches, and then three, and then one. He only pauses a breath away, nose pressed against Castiel's and breath ghosting over chapped lips, a tiny little heart attack unfurling in his chest before they've even met yet. The smallest spasm of lungs pushes a little exhale from him, and then he closes the gap. ]
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[ Leaves are falling all around. It's time I was on my way. Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay. But now it's time for me to go. The autumn moon lights my way. For now I smell the rain. And with it pain, and it's headed my way. Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know about one thing I got to do. Ramble on, and now's the time, the time is now to sing my song. I'm goin' 'round the world. ]
[ the lyrics remembered but not really heard until now. castiel's hips move. pushing up, seeking. wanting more than the light press of lips against lips. his arms shake in their invisible restraints, his head tips to the side out of muscle memory that he's not sure is all his own. this was his first kiss and he'd never get that chance again. it was perfect, if he could choose the word to describe how it felt, for the thirty seconds it lasts.
castiel breaks the kiss, breathes out and drops his forehead to dean's shoulder. he wants to try again. over and over until that tightness building up reaches a breaking point. ]
Dean?
[ he says the hunter's name with awe and a lot more reverence than he usually allows to slip into his tone. castiel raises his head, blue eyes seeking out dean's. there was a lot that could happen now, he was certain of that. his hips could keep moving. dean might feel obligated, responsible, or pity him and help. cas didn't want that. he needed to clear the fuzz.
it may be inevitable, a natural progression from scene to sex for the two of them, but castiel wasn't ready. ]
Cupid. [ cas clears his throat, maintains eye contact that's probably too close to what dean doesn't like. ] I can't catch my breath, Dean.
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As it stands, Castiel's lips alone are enough to send sparks throughout him. They make his own lips zing, tingling and overly sensitive and hyper-aware- made lost by something that's still on the appropriate side of intimate. There isn't even tongue, there's no teeth, there's just soft, dry, careful movement that feels like it sucks his heart out through his ribs.
The fact that he rocks his hips up, that he grinds them together in needy friction... God, he completely understands when Cas breaks away to duck his head and breathe. He's breathless himself, heart racing like he's run some kind of marathon, fingers twitching and digging into Castiel's shoulder to keep vertigo out. It's intense, the type of intense he hasn't felt when doing something like this since- fuck, since when? Cassie? Robin, his first love back at the boy's home?
Cas says his name. Dean meets his eye, lips parted, searching for something, a course of action, the overwhelming desire to meet his lips again, to grind down, to slide his fingers trough--
Cupid.
It startles him, full-on. Jerks him out of the moment and back into reality, and it takes all of a single second of processing it for him to snap backward and leave Castiel's hips, practically across the god damn room in a heartbeat. He's got to turn his back, shirtless, shoulders drawn up, hand passing over his mouth, eyes on the wall.
Speechless at the implication.
At how much he...
feltwantedAnd that Cas abruptly didn't.
Oh, hell. The world splinters and careens, and Dean stands rigidly, wading through it, waiting for it to pass. At least he respects safewords. Cupid. ]
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how he would feel. how dean would feel. all he knows is the abrupt chill in the room, like small, indelicate fingers brushing his skin. the loss of something good, something special, and so very close to something he's been missing in all his 'human' experiences. dean's across the room, facing away, shoulders tense and all that beautiful, freckled skin no longer his to touch.
and he aches with it, the need and desire. the want that he couldn't describe to anyone if they ever thought to ask him how he felt.
he wouldn't rewind time, he wouldn't take it back, but he would do it differently. ] Dean. [ that tone drops, gruff and there's something there that he can't quite explain. ]
[ is he allowed to get up? can he stand. is this over? did he crack something that was so fragile? ]
I.. need you to come back.
[ that fuzz, the blur, it hadn't disappeared when dean pulled away. it'd gotten stronger. overwhelming. his erection was flagging due to lack of stimulation and a panic, of sorts, was filling in all the voids. he didn't want to end it forever. he'd thought, no, he hadn't thought. castiel was swimming and he didn't know the water. rough currents yanking him one way, the sandy beach calling him in the other direction. ]
That word. That safeword. It's not right. Do you understand?
[ castiel leans forward, the 'chair' forgotten. he balances his elbows on his knees. he doesn't need oxygen to survive but he can't breathe. he knows, somehow, that if this had just been sex it wouldn't have ended up this way. he might have fumbled through, here and there making mistakes, but the desire to slow down and stop wouldn't have occurred to him. he'd opened himself up and allowed dean winchester to see through clear him and take a hold of who he is. that, he assumed, was true submission.
it was more than he could handle. ]
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