TDM #1

[duplicitymods]

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « OUT OF CLUTTER FIND SIMPLICITY

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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.

» » » LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

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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

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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

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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

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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!!

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» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Comments

Jack Benjamin | Kings | Dominant

[cicatrize]

[[ ooc; jack is gay, but also closeted as a politician, so he'll do f/m for the appearance of it, but the only thing he'll really be genuinely into is m/m. just a FYI! ]]

LIES TRAVEL WITH COMPANY;

Public transportation. [ Jack murmurs with a vaguely arched brow and voice a dull, dry thing. ] Joy.

[ dressed in an expensive suit, still looking regally put together from the coronation that never should've started, Jack paces his way into the train with poise and composure, pride in his step and an aloof air, taking a seat somewhere where he can get a decent view of the rest of the train, as well as the city outside.

Honestly, he's freaking lost. He'd been jailed in his father's palace only an hour or so ago, then woke in that dark room with the two doors. Then passed out, then woke again, then passed out, then woke again. So there's really no telling how long he's been out, or how much he's missed. Currently, he's settled his mind on this place being some kind of exile or prison for him. Silas hadn't even cared enough to give him a real execution, just sent him off never to be heard from again. There's shame in that, of course. There's shame in everything having to do with where he came from. But no one else in this new city need know that.

Digging around in his pockets, he's searching for the cellphone he'd had on him, or the pocket knife, or anything else remotely useful, but all his fingers touch on is a small metal tin. Dragging it free, Jack stares down at it with a momentary frown, before offering it outward to the stranger next to him. ] Mint?

END IN THE DISCORD (possibly NSFW);

[ In the club, Jack's shed his regal second skin, left the suit at home and come in a plain shirt and jeans, but something about him still bleeds out command, demand. it's just his nature. a violently needy wraith of a human being, and he's been drinking enough by now that hopefully the part of his mind that endlessly reminds him of that can shut the fuck up for two seconds while he gets some actual enjoyment in. as much as being in control, and being in the privileged upper half of the city is rewarding and safe feeling to him, Jack's tolerance for comfort zones is starting to harsh against everything else inside him that just wants to deconstruct all of that.

so, he's here, in this club where societal rules mean nothing, regardless of if that's dominant or submissive, or any other label someone wants to slap on him. a few drinks in, jack's eyes turn on the crowd to skim over the people gathered. once he finds some handsome man, with a line tattooed down their throat that speaks of their rank, he makes his way over. ]

Wanna be Dominant for a night? Come on. [ Jack murmurs to them under the pulsing thrum of the nightclub music, eyes bright with intoxication and promise to make this memorable, his meaning behind it clear when he paces the last few steps closer to a private room, leaned against the doorframe and waiting, brows lifted. ]

Offer expires in 30 seconds, or by the time I finish this drink. Whichever comes first. [ think fast, because he's about halfway through and starting to take the rest of it like a shot. ]

TABLE IT FOR LATER;

[ the demonstration is an interesting one, as are the women that preform it (the surprisingly soothing treatment afterwards - who knew BDSM had such a gentle crowd, he didn't), but ultimately, Jack isn't interested in trying it out, or asking any questions. he has better things to be doing, with this new lease on anonymous life in Duplicity, God bless it and stay the ever-loving fuck out of it for fucking once. After taking up his coat with a single hooked finger, Jack makes towards the exit to leave, only to have a small, adorable little submissive come wandering up to him with bright blue eyes and shiny golden hair that reminds him too much of things he'd like to forget. They ask if he'd be willing to practice what they were shown, and Jack sighs, something not quite like sympathy, more like pity, in his eyes. ]

It's supposed to be about trust and understanding, isn't it? [ Jack asks, as if he's genuinely uncertain (he fucking knows it was, he's mocking right now), then smiles in a blank kidn fo way that doesn't really reach his eyes, letting out a soft but sharp laugh, as if this is obvious. ]

You shouldn't trust me. And I don't need your understanding. [ He tells the eager Submissive that'd come trotting up, with a gentle hand to their cheek. oh, you sweet summer child. you're precious, but he would destroy you. look for someone less tempted to use you for all you're worth and discard you like an empty McDonalds french fry sleeve. ] Thanks.

[ with a charmingly douchey little kiss blown to the two women leading the little seminar, Jack gives a wave and whistles a jaunty tune as he heads for the door. peace, losers. ]

WILDCARD;

[ hit meeeee ]

TABLE IT FOR LATER

[4thwaller]

[ Wade had found the demonstration both interesting and dull. Wasn't BDSM all about the whole wearing a leather suit and choking on a ball-gag? He'd grown bored of it, staying close to the exit but not leaving yet. Maybe it'd get more interesting. What did interest him, was the guy that was making an exit like Wade normally would, of course here, he can never be too sure if he's going to get the crap kicked out of him for it, or what.

He's leaning against the wall that meets the door, looking bored as ever, but there's an amusement in his dark eyes when then land on Jack. As the man gets closer Wade actually finds himself speaking up. ] What? Not into the living furniture lifestyle? [ Despite the marking making it clear he's a Submissive, he holds himself with the same arrogance a Dominant might. And while that might be weird, the weirdest thing about him was the Bea Arthur shirt that hung off his frame. Had he gotten dressed in the dark? ] Or do you just like breaking the hearts of bright eyed bushy tailed future Ikea furniture?

[ He hasn't been a big fan of talking to people lately, he's felt so off kilter. But maybe talking to someone he won't have to care about in five minutes will make him feel better. ]

[cicatrize]

[ honestly, the fastest way to gain jack benjamin's respect is being a sassy little bitch. so, that's what has him actually halting to glance wade's direction, when he'd barely spared a moment for the bright eyed bushy tailed future Ikea furniture sub. ] Not really my aesthetic. I prefer a little more woodworking in my furniture.

[ which is maybe a dick joke and maybe not, it's hard to tell with how dignified Jack's voice comes off (he was raised as a prince, okay, life is hard (lol hard)). but, spoilers, yeah, it's a dick joke. human furniture isn't his kink. what's the fucking point? if there's no sex it's honestly just boring, and there's so many more interesting ways to get off on being socially dominating than get someone to preformed an agreed upon act. boo, lame.

but anyway, about ryan reynolds and his pretty, sassy face here. ] But if you're just dying to try it, I can spare a few minutes to balance some plates on your ass.

[ listen to him, sounding so concerned for the fulfillment of your experience here. listen to how unabashedly full of shit he is. ]

[4thwaller]

[ A scarred eyebrow raises up, the words drawing a grin to his face. He doesn't care what anyone says, he's taking it as a dick joke and running with it. Try and stop him. Let's get one thing straight, Wade's not. ] Oh, yeah, I heard the real hard stuff is great. Oak, maple, [ He lifts a shoulder up lazily in a shrug. ] pine. [ If anything can even be misconstrued as a dick joke or a poop joke, Wade's on it (hah!). It's not often that people jive with his shitty humour, and when someone does, he certainly doesn't stop cracking jokes.

Not that he ever really stops cracking jokes. Comes with the tragic backstory and all.

Wade has been to a lot of sketchy places but this is the most vanilla sketchy place he's ever been and it's about the most disappointing thing ever.

Sorry, Winter Soldier, he can't help the face he was born with... Just wait until he becomes a super-hero. The grin on his face grows. ] This ass is a little more top shelf. I'll only accept the job as priceless vase balancer. [ Ah, yes, and he is just as full of shit. He's sure he can just hear that other Submissive wishing him ill-intent somewhere. To be fair, this guy could be a crazy murderer. Joke's on him - Wade has that role on lock. ]

table it

[freightcars]

(hey my dude if you aren't into the same face bullshit that is a-ok just let me know and we can ditch this no harm no foul.)

[ The thing is, he's been skirting this whole scene since it started. Scoping out the submissives, mostly, not because he plans on snatching one up and building trust or having sex, but because of the ever-looming deadline of a contract. No choice is still a choice in a place where they throw somebody at you against your will in a few months regardless.

So he scopes, and he spots, and from some skeptical corner of the room just out of Jack's line of sight he balks. Edges forth like a panther or a god damn creep depending on your preferred metaphor, close enough that he can get within earshot of the exchange this guy has with some poor line-throated bastard just trying to make a connection. Two strikes, although maybe both of them are unfair.

Regardless, it leaves him feeling exactly no measure of guilt when Jack slips out of the view of most of the room toward the shadowy and secluded lobby, where Barnes is quick to snatch him back by the collar of his shirt and thrust him back into a nearby wall. Personal space is a myth for a minute, eradicated and replaced by wild eyes and a disbelievingly muttered: ]

What the hell.

[cicatrize]

[[ i am absolutely into same face bullshit, come at me, homeslice. also, body physics are weird, sorry if i assumed they were set up in a way they weren't supposed to be set up ]]

[ jack's hardly any kind of winter soldier, but he is a war veteran, and the first thing he did in getting into Duplicity was finding at least a knife to have on his person. something about being arrested by your own father makes one paranoid. it's out by the time he hits the wall, but it may as well not matter, because what the eff even is this fuckery going on right now? the second he catches a look at bucky's face, all other thoughts dissipate, leaving him gaping, murmuring in detached disbelief. ]

Disturbing... [ he'd thought this place was bizarre enough when he came in being told the society runs on a D/S system. now, there's some homeless looking person wearing his face, but old, and this is one acid trip too far for what Jack's willing to take on today. ] And not something I'm narcissistic enough to be into.

[ twisting his body to the side, and down, jack tries the slip the hand at the back of his neck, angling out enough that the arm holding onto the switchblade he'd pulled from his pocket can swipe out, trying to slice across his creepy, old, homeless twin's stomach. get the ever-loving fuck off his person, you fucking psycho. ]

[freightcars]

(you totally gucci my dude)

[ Yeah, about that. Bucky might be staring too hard to really appreciate the narrative spilling out of Jack's mouth, but no amount of weird can really train out suped up reflexes and muscle memory. That switchblade swipes and a metal hand shoots down on it quick to knock that shit away, maybe with enough force to swat it clean from Jack's hand if he angles it right. It's an absent, mindless motion that he doesn't really think about enough for it to be deliberate.

Add metal-armed to that list of adjectives you're building in your head, apparently, pal.

It doesn't matter, Jack earns more or less what he's looking for with that failed attempt at stabbing. Bucky backs off a solid foot or two - less from fear and more out of a desire to put some distance between the two of them so he can boggle appropriately without the risk of a punctured lung. Safe to assume a guy wearing his face might have another weapon or two stashed about his person, if habits coincide with facial symmetry. ]

Jesus fucking Christ-

[ He mutters, and it's more to himself than to Jack really. A little one-way dialogue isn't the right way to parse through this, so instead he follows it up with: ]

Who the hell are you?

end in the discord sort of

[pushesyou]

[ the city was some vague reference to heaven and hell, wasn't it? anyone with eyes could see the correlation between what happened in the Down and the Up and apply it to the standard biblical definition of the two. he didn't know how the dominant and submissive roles played into that but he'd figure it out. in time. he couldn't get out of the city to go home and his powers were weakened. so, for now, he'd just.. explore and decide what to do later.

autonomy. a club for people who didn't like the mark on their throat or wish they had one. sex was, literally, happening everywhere and alec didn't know how to feel about that.

he'd spent his whole life in the closet, wanting to be the ideal picture and person he was 'supposed' to be, and any amount of time spent out from behind that closed door was relatively short in comparison. he was more comfortable with himself and his desires, but comfortable enough to sleep with a guy he's just met a day or so after his first and only boyfriend had broken up with him? dunno. maybe.

he spends the first few hours of the night sipping a martini he hates the taste of and then moves around, watching how people behave. the most unusual thing is how, after watching the guy lean against the doorframe and attempt to seduce in some submissive, is the way his eyes catch on the bead of sweat running down that submissive's throat. it smears the ink. now, that, isn't supposed to happen. he'd try to wash his off and it hadn't budged.

alec steps up and gently curls an arm around the submissive's chest to drag a finger through the line, breaking it. he doesn't say anything to either of them before pushing the submissive away with a raised brow. the guy leaves without even a whimper. ]

How about someone who isn't lying from the start?

[ unless that's what this guy liked, he didn't know. alec was labeled a submissive and wasn't sure where he fell. he's never really felt like one to take a knee. but maybe he could be to this 'dominant' what he wanted him to be. he was drunk enough to not care as much about how he'd regret what he did tonight, tomorrow. ]

[cicatrize]

[ honestly, jack had only been looking for a warm body to give him what he needed for the moment, which would then promptly be discarded, but alec here offers him something much more enticing - a personality. with a brain attached, even. granted, if he'd gotten into things with that other pretend fake!sub and noticed the mark rubbing off later, it'd probably be enough of a buzzkill to ruin it (people lying to his face tends to do that, despite jack's, you know, nature). so, there is genuine gratitude in him for this boy catching it when jack's (surprisingly functional) drunk mess of a self didn't.

he regards the interaction between dom-sub-dom man and the new tall, dark and gorgeous boy with lofted brows, sipping at the last of his drink like a casual bystander waiting things to shake out, while the prior interest goes shuffling off, tail between his legs, and the latter remains. there's something perhaps too predator in jack's smirk to pass him off as someone really interesting in being submissive at the moment, but he can't help it. letting go is difficult for him, but rewarding, so fucking rewarding. it's clear enough he's pleased with this new development. ]

Good eye. My hero. [ lifting a thumb to his lips, jack catches the last couple drops of tequila sunrise, light on the sunrise, remaining there, and as he paces over to meet him, lifts it to touch at the line bisecting alec's throat. the liquid touches, but as his thumb drags, nothing smears. look at that - honesty. how refreshing. ] And you're volunteering to take his place?

[ asked with bright, intoxicated eyes watching alec closely (maybe too closely), just a few inches shorter than him. there's clearly nothing about the dominant role that doesn't suit jack, but equally clear he's asking to forego it right now. a finger hooks in alec's shirt - between buttons, or in the fabric, or the collar, however it works with whatever he's wearing - and jack gives him a tug, walking them backwards towards the room he'd been interested in hiding away in moments ago. ] I can keep looking, if I have to, but I'd really rather not.

[ because he likes this one. he wants this one. come on, gorgeous stranger, let him steal your soul, i mean, have a nice evening of romantic and innocent love-making with you. or at least face sucking, you know, whatever works. ]

[pushesyou]

[ alec tracks the movement of the guy’s thumb across his lip. his heart picks up, thumping against his chest in a heavy staccato and it’s gotta be louder than the music in here, shoulders tense as that thumb moves to drag across his throat. it wasn't sexy when he'd done it. definitely was sexy when the stranger did it.

he’d intervened. he’s put himself in this situation and there’s no one to blame for how it goes but himself. he’s never done this. alec’s slept with a total of one guy and it was hardly a random hookup. a one night stand. he’s not a coward but damn, he is nervous. there’s a lot at play. a risk. which is hot, in its own right. like that guy. blue.. gray? eyes, over there. with a cupid's bow he wants to trace with the tip of his tongue and that's probably the filthiest he's ever thought of someone looking right at him.

a finger hooks in the collar of his t-shirt and tugs him forward. ]

No, you don't have to keep looking.

[ there, it's out in the open. palpable like the air he's currently inhaling too roughly.

he licks his lips and follows the guy into the room, kicking the door closed with the side of his foot. it's a smooth gesture, followed by an equally unsmooth fumble to keep up with the dominant. every action, subtle and otherwise, hinted at an inexperience that wasn't exactly true. he understood how this was supposed to go. alec knew what to do. he had questions, though, and he had to ask them. ]

What are you expecting from me?

[ a dominant that wanted to be submissive? he'd overheard. or did it have to be as defined as all that. couldn't they just have sex? alec runs his hand through his hair, pushing it into disarray. ]

table it » » »

[ex_serum683]

❰ steve's supposed to not be looking at anyone. one of bucky's rules, one of the things meant to keep him from getting into too much trouble here, and — okay, yes, he will concede that he can have a habit of ending fights, even if he's not the one who starts them. maybe it's best for him to look at the floor instead of any dominant's face, or the submissives kneeling on the ground.

but he can't just look at the floor forever, especially when such a familiar voice is saying such strange things — steve sneaks a glance upward, and then it becomes less sneaking and more outright staring as he takes in bucky's face on definitely-not-bucky. there's a quick calculation — if he confronts the man here, in front of the whole gathering, it might end in a scuffle, and he's not sure enough of what he can get away with yet to risk it. better to follow the stranger, then, and confront him out of sight of anyone else.

steve oh so casually makes for the exit, eyes down, only lifting his head to search for not-bucky when he's outside the building. it only takes a moment for him to find the man he's looking for, and steve approaches him quickly from behind, grabbing the man's elbow and pulling him into an alley, one hand pressed quickly to his mouth to quiet whatever noise of alarm he's sure to make. ❱

Who are you? ❰ steve hisses, voice low, the line down his chin almost but not quite invisible in the dark. ❱

[cicatrize]

[ after being jumped by bucky fresh out of one of these mandatory classes, jack not only kept up the habit for keeping a knife on his person, but added a second, and there's now a handgun tucked in a shoulder holster underneath his coat. thankfully, that isn't the item he draws out now.

instead, it's the same switchblade he'd nearly gutted bucky with, but only clicked open at his hip, lined up with steve's gut, the sound of the blade easy to pick up in the otherwise quiet alley. that click was pointed, meant a quiet statement of back the fuck off of me, man. he's only guessing this has to do with his and bucky's mutual miracle of a DNA string, because anyone else who has reason to get this close and personal with him wouldn't be asking him who he is. and jack's desperately hoping this has nothing to do with those people - the ones from Shiloh, looking to see him put back in a cell. or, a bedroom. which evens out to the same thing.

however, he can't exactly ask, as this asscanoe has his meaty palm over jack's mouth, so his head only tilts, expression the part of his face not covered saying would you like me to answer, or just stand here and look pretty while you feel me up?

assuming steve removes his hand, the first thing Jack does is shove a hand against his chest, and give him a hard push, trying to get some breathing room. he's honestly so sick of people feeling so free to touch and grab all up on him here. second, he actually answers. ]

Friend of Michelle's, I take it? He didn't tell you? [ thanks, bucky, it'd be nice if you kept your grabby hands friends in line, but that's apparently asking too much. and, right, he has a real name, stupid one as it is. ] Bucky, I mean.

[ex_serum683]

❰ while a knife to the gut probably wouldn't kill him — a bullet didn't, so steve's liking his odds — it does bring up the possibility of evidence and pain and shit he's not prepared to deal with right now. >bucky's not prepared to deal with it. if steve had had warning —

but he didn't, and this is the hand he has to deal with, for now. he steps away from the man reluctantly, hands up, eyes still wary. ❱

No, he didn't. Michelle?

❰ what the fuck, bucky, your name's weird but steve's pretty sure michelle was never part of it. ❱

Table It

[entitledblood]

[ooc: I'm just going to apologize in advance, and feel free to ignore if you don't want to deal with him! because Roman is such a dick.]


[Roman honestly isn't quite sure what the fuck to make of this whole thing. He'd never have thought that there was a sort of kink that could make this many moderately attractive bodies in lingerie seriously fucking boring, but here he was. He's tempted to get one of them to tip over the whole tray just to see what happens. A public spanking would at least be an upgrade, but given the crowd, he thinks they'd probably ruin that too. Roman has one of those stripes down his slender throat, but he seems to be doing well with enjoying the expensive whiskey at the free bar and avoiding any attempts to turn him into a fucking bookshelf or whatever the shit people here are into.

He's about to head out the door himself, but Jack's theatrics catch his attention. One drama queen calls to another, or some shit like that. Roman's tall, lean and all angles and broad shoulders. Pouty lips and slicked back hair, and he holds himself like someone that has not yet figured out that the world doesn't revolve around his whims. The way that his clothes are tailored says money just like the look in his eyes says entitled shit.]

If you're going to fuck off you don't have to be a bitch about it.

[His voice and tone says culture, even if the particular words hint that no one's probably ever dared tell him to shut his pretty mouth. He was raised like a prince, like he owned the world.

So he smiles, all white perfect teeth, walks over with a sway to his hips, dripping confidence from every pore no matter what this place decides to call him. In honesty, he hadn't payed too much attention to orientation, even if the house they gave him was the worst piece of shit he'd ever seen in his life. It made him almost wish for another night spent on the couch in the Rumancek's trailer, and a sullen pang of loneliness follows the thought. But, whatever- for the first time since getting here, he was almost having fun.]

I mean, if tables aren't your thing, I'm sure someone can make you into a coatrack.

[cicatrize]

[[ ooc; lol no worries at all!! jack can definitely hold his own in the entitled bitch department :> and i love negative cr so i'm not stressed ]]


[ jack was not raised like a prince, he was raised as an actual prince, son of a king literally ordained by God, so 'spoiled' does not even begin to touch on what should describe his upbringing. when this rival pretty boy in expensive wrapping speaks up, jack glances back to him with brows arched and a look speaks vague disinterest, pausing only because it's generally expected. however, once it becomes clear this boy is attempting to out-diva him, the smile that pulls across his lips speaks oh, you sweet summer child.

darling. sunshine. booboo. please. ]

Make you into a coatrack, I think you mean. [ he isn't boasting the same line inked down his throat that Roman here is. No one's turning him into any kind of furniture. ] If you're that torn up about my leaving, I suppose I have time for a footstool, while I finish this.

[ Jack gives the cup of free coffee (spiked with something from a flask he'd pulled out mid-demonstration), still about half full. as if he's expecting this to be the actual problem this man has with him, Jack takes a seat, leaning out to patronizingly pat the ground by his feet. come on, sweetheart, you know you want to. ]

Discord

[ataashihunter]

You have no idea.

[ The Iron Bull chuckles and follows him towards the room. He closes the distance and looks down down Jack, reaching up to put a finger under his chin and guiding him to look up and match his eyes. ]

You sure about this, pretty thing?

[ The Bull knows he is intimidating, well over seven feet tall, the horns and the grey skin is more than a lot of people can handle. He figures he'll give the guy a chance to back out now that he 's gotten him up close and had a good look at what he is in for. ]

SCREECH jack's poor butt

[cicatrize]

[ well, let it not be said that jack's an underachiever. when he means to do something, like find a person to take control and responsibility entirely out of his hands for an hour or so, he doesn't go light with it. as he's selected the most alpha looking motherfucker in the building to bend him in whatever shape he sees fit.

is he intimidated? yeah, but that's part of it. the man is huge, and the horns carry their own connotations, not even touching on the rest of the image. but jack came here wanting to be ruined, and self-destruction is an addiction to him. obediently (because jack's knows it's his choice, and he's still entirely in charge here), he lifts his chin with the finger tilting his face up, eyes bright and lips pulled into a sharp smirk. no matter how submissive jack plays, he never seems to lose the air dominance, of knowing it. ]

If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have offered.

[ jack assures him, voice steady and gaze unwavering. a hand touches against the bull's bare chest, smoothing down until his fingers can curl around the leather strap holding his pauldron in place. gripping it, jack paces backwards towards that private room, giving the qunari a tug to follow (he doubts he could actually drag him if he tried with everything in him). ] Must be killing you, having to play nice.

Oh, Bull can be gentle

[ataashihunter]

You have no idea.

[ Bull lets a bit of a growl into his voice, letting Jack lead him to the private room with a wicked grin spreading on his face. This is a game he is used to playing. One he enjoys playing too. Plenty of people in Thedas has been into the whole dangerous Qunari game. ]

Got a lot of frustration to work out.

[ Once they are inside the room, he grabs Jack and spins quickly, closing the door in the same movement as pressing Jack up against it. One hand pinning his shoulder to the door and the other travelling down over his chest. ]

I got a feeling you want to see just how much, hm?

lies travel in company

[magnetizing]

( Lorna managed to bite her tongue when the stranger sat next to her already. it's not that she's entirely anti-social, though that plays a huge part in it, but more that the suit puts her off immediately. she's dressed in torn jeans, a tank top, a leather jacket with studs, and steel-toed boots herself. rocking more of a near goth look, only helped by her perpetually pale complexion. the green hair also helps push that agenda further. and people in suits just reek of bad news to Lorna.

then she looks around the train. remembers where they are, what's going on, what just happened at home, and rolls her eyes as she finally relents. )

Yeah. Can't hurt. ( that's not the total truth, the paranoid pieces of her mind try to say, but she pushes them down for now. with a light touch she takes the mint and pops it in her mouth. it clicks against her teeth a bit as she pushes the mint to the back of her mouth. )

What shit role did you get saddled with?

[cicatrize]

[ honestly, jack admires the girl's style. if jack could have gotten away sporting the same look at any part in his life (probably rebellious teenage years), he would have. but living under silas benjamin meant being exactly the picture he was intended to be at all times, thus, the suit. once he's found a place he can change out, it'll be a relief to blend in and disappear a little better. ]

The one without the involuntary ink. Which is starting to look lower on the shit scale than the other. [ jack pops the mint case closed and tucks it back into a pocket as he watching some natives load onto the train, and the set up they display - one on the seat, one on the ground, kneeling. yeah, hell fucking no. turning back to the girl at his side, he glances to her throat momentarily. no line - good for her. ]

Lucky us.

[ a few more load on after them, all following the same pattern, and jack's brows pull into a deep knot. that can't be a legal mandate, right? there's no way that could pass and keep riots from breaking out. he's going to need more than mints to deal with this, and jack's digging in his pockets again, trying to find the flask he usually keeps on him. ]

TABLE IT FOR LATER;

[gloves]

[It's not that Rogue is uncomfortable with the display, it's just that... well, yes, she completely uncomfortable with the display, the role she's expected to play in it, and the physical contact that could end up being involved with it. More than the demonstration, she's watching the other people who don't have tattoos on their necks. And thank god she's one of them; she's already marked from her time in a mutant prison, if someone had tried to tattoo her neck she probably would have completely lost it.

One catches her eye. The one who seems to have no trouble dealing with his placement and is delighting in being an asshole about it. There are probably a good number of people like that here, he just happens to be the one in this particular room. Rogue waits for him to leave, then peels herself off from the wall, following along, the gesture probably coming across way more submissive than dominant. But, then, that's why she's following him: she trying to figure out how people do this.]

What's the matter? You don't like the eager ones?

[cicatrize]

[ maybe he wouldn't call it delighting in it, but jack's certainly not shy about it either. if someone's going to ask him to do something he doesn't want to, and more importantly, doesn't have to do, he has no problem saying as much. and, look, he was just saving the well-meaning sub some grief, because those things were both true - it's bad for your health to trust him, and he has no desire to be understood by anyone here. it's saving time, okay? something like that, anyway.

he'd noticed the woman leaning against the wall on his way out, but he'd also noticed the lack of a sub tattoo on her, so he's somewhat surprised she decided to follow him. they don't need anything from each other, and that's what jack's assuming this society is built on. maybe she's just nosy. either way, jack glances over his shoulder at her, then shrugs, not seeming too perturbed by it. ]

Don't like performance art. Which is about what this amounts to.

discord

[mordacita]

[ The thing is, he is not dominant. Rafa never has been. He's been on top of plenty of men, many times, generally because that's what they want from him, though sometimes because he's enthralling them. As a rule, though, his preference is to let them lead. He would have told that to anyone who asked, before he came here.

But then he came here, and those words took on a whole new meaning. It's not just a sexual preference anymore, it's a lifestyle. Every ounce of control has been taken from him, and as it turns out, being in control is far more important to him than he'd ever understood.

This man - human, drunk, about to be more drunk if he isn't careful - is a Dominant, clearly, and a pretty one. Full lips, startling bright blue eyes. Rafa doesn't need to think twice. That he's handsome barely even matters; he'd have taken this offer up regardless, a chance to regain some small ounce of control in a world that has taken it from him. Faster than even a sober eye could blink, his hand snaps up to stop Jack's hand. He doesn't need to finish that drink. ]

Put it down. [ Role reversal, yes? The blue-eyed beauty can do what he's told. ] Then strip. I'll give you something with a sweeter taste.

[ He backs off into the room, finding something soft to lounge back upon. ]

MY SWEET I HAVE MISSED U

[cicatrize]

[ jack is nearly incapable of not being dominant. every word that drops from his lips is half a command, every step he takes is with purpose towards a goal he will step on the throats of any in his way to achieve, every blink and breath and gesture is something controlled and practiced and planned and it makes him sick on nights like this.

he drinks, and fights, and fucks until it's dulled to a low hum in the back of his mind, but it's never completely gone. even when Rafa blinks to his side faster than anything should make sense (he blames it on the alcohol dulling his senses), when his hand curls over the cool metal bracelets on his wrist to stop him from drinking, every fiber of his being wants to push back against it. it takes an active letting go to relax, to leave it, to pull his lips into a sharp smirk, and hand the glass off to some passing stranger, fingers leaving it whether they'd had a grip on it or not, before he follows after the man.

the man who is beautiful beyond words and sense. jack wants to reach out for him, touch his skin, run his hands through his hair, kiss him deep and slow. but he was given a task, wasn't he?

as he paces his way into the private room, a fine, genuine leather monkstrap shoe kicks the door closed behind him. fine shoes (and socks) that are toed off a moment later, while he watches this new stranger lounge himself back on some kind of fancy sofa. 'fainting couches' he'd called them once, before his mother primly corrected him. a word he can't remember, and doesn't care to, right now. the t-shirt is easy enough to peel off, dropped to the floor, ringed fingers moving to pull open the button at his jeans, tug down the zipper, and hook thumbs in the fabric to push down, while he paces lazily to follow. standing a foot or so at most away from rafa's knees, his jeans and boxer briefs both hit the floor, followed shortly after by jack's knees, waiting. ]

discord

[neverbloomed]

[It is the freedom from this society's bullshit power structures that lures Ko-Mo into the club. Well, that and chance to get wasted in good old fashioned way. Aaand that's what exactly he's doing.

He's already downed couple of unfamiliar drinks and getting into a good mood, wondering whether he should go and join the dancing bodies on the stage, when a stranger approaches him. Ko-Mo looks at him with an unimpressed expression in his face, slightly arching one brow up. Normally he's not fan of being hit on by men but oh well, it happens and he can't say that he's never played along with them.

Besides, he's been on crappy mood lately and would definitely want to take down some "
Dominant" ass.]

What? You looking for getting smacked around?