duplicitymemes

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«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

[ A little noise not unlike Aah- comes out of his lips at sit on me, but it's sort of an absent involuntary sound that fades out pretty quickly. He's steeling his nerves, he's trying to get over some mental blocks about sexuality and weirdness and intimacy.

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?

[ this never leaves the room.

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. ]

[ He honestly couldn't abacus his way through tallying up the number of times Cas has said his name. It's always Dean, hello Dean, Dean shut up I'm giving you the stank eye, but never has he heard it so up close and personal before. Nuances of Cas's voice, a low rumble that he can actually feel ghosting along the shell of his ear. Goosebumps break out along his arms, and the tightness in his chest squeezes once like a vice. ]

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?

[ cas liked saying dean's name. he was the first human he's had a connection with and it'd be the strongest he ever has. all he had to do was alter the inflection and it changed everything. a simple dean could be chastising, confused, angry, or pleased. though he didn't often sound pleased with dean but he was working on that. human emotion and interaction was complicated.

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.

[ He could swear for a second that every nerve ending from his spine to his gut is somehow connected to his cheek, because Cas presses his own into it and the slight drag of scruff seems to send a rippling tide of feeling down his chest and back like a flush, like pinpricks. That's...

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.

[ there was an instruction manual. there had to be. castiel would go and look for one, only he assumed that was the wrong thing to do. he was submissive? under dean's control and guidance. he needed to be told to go and look for one and..

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. ]

[ Cas starts speaking and, at first, Dean is of two minds. Primarily, the desire to stubbornly, uncomfortably protest - to drown it all out, quip out something about fifty shades and shrug the whole thing off. The second, though, is the part of him that rarely gets to see the light of day. The part of him that analyzes, scrutinizes, larps, studies - the guy that reads Vonnegut and builds EMF detectors out of busted walkmans. Lack of confidence and the constant back seat to Sam as far as intellect goes has him hiding that part away more often than not, but it's that part that thrums now in keen interest.

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. ]

[ dean didn't give himself enough credit. sam was intelligent. but that didn't take away from what dean had to offer. castiel could list all that dean was capable of, his good qualities and skills, but it wasn't the time or place for it.

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. ]

[ Remain calm. It's the one singular mantra running through his mind the second he feels Cas shift, and he can only double down on that thought aggressively when he feels the first stages of an erection filling out beneath him. Remain calm, god damn it. He does it, but without quite managing to keep his eyebrows from furrowing or from his tongue darting out to uncomfortably wet his lips.

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.

[ there was a standard of conversation and understanding between himself and dean winchester. it worked for the most part. sometimes dean would do the exact opposite of what cas would ask. cas did, sometimes, do the same. they continued to get close anyway. was this a natural progression of their relationship? he didn't think so. but they were on an alternate plane that was pushing them to change the parameters.

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. ]

[ The fact that even hearing the word cupid brings him up short and throws him from the moment makes it a good safe word, he's got to give the guy that. It puts a little furrow on his brow and a slightly disgusted downturn to his lips, and... yeah. That'll do the trick alright.

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.

[ cas wouldn't judge dean for this. whether it's him beneath him or another man. it just didn't fall anywhere on the range of what was important to castiel. dean was dean and he accepted him as he was. it's not as if his body wasn't immensely on board with what they were doing. his mind was catching up, fuzzing out, then trying to catch up again. that was enough for him. they could worry about what, if anything, this did to their relationship tomorrow.

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. ]

[ So this is... Something. It's a start, right? A little bend here, a little flex there, easing in with their toes first. Definitely a start, but something still feels a little... off about the whole thing. It takes him a second of thinking on it to get an idea for what it is, and then an errant thought drifts through his mind.

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. ]

Edited 2018-09-20 01:47 (UTC)

[ when dean moves, he assumes this is over. he hadn't committed fully or in a way that the hunter wanted. failure was a palpable and unsightly thing. it filled cas with that sick, unworthy feeling that was multiplied by how hard he was actually trying to do this correctly. it would devour him if he let it. one emotion right after the other, amplified by that fuzziness that refuses to clear, tramples over all his good intentions.

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. ]

[ He can't seem to break eye contact when Cas talks, like he's locked into place and somehow compelled to stay his gaze. Cas is not by any stretch of the imagination an emotive guy, but Dean knows him well enough to read most of the signs. Embarrassment, the search for an answer. Knows him well enough to infer what these new signals are, too. Pupils blown, breathing a bit ragged.

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. ]

[ did that mean he was no longer a chair? sat on but allowed to move.

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. ]

[ His palms are flat and warm, rough and wide in a way that's different from any chick he's ever been with. The rest of him feels abruptly cold by comparison, and he has to take a slow and careful breath to ground himself.

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. ]

[ he's begun to understand the appeal of human furniture. he relinquishes control and dean takes it for himself. he trusts the hunter and knows that he won't go too far. he won't emotionally or physically put him at risk. dean, castiel is aware, is a compassionate person. that would extend to a domination and submission scene, wouldn't it? if given the chance to choose in the future, castiel would skip out on all of the pretenses. straight to what they're doing now. not the sex, but the rest of it.

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. ]

[ If he weren't so caught up in the moment he might full-on offer Cas a round of applause for choosing the most basic, most foundational human thing one can possibly ask for during a moment like this. And thank god, too, because if he went straight from straddling to fisting they might have a problem here.

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. ]

[ there's a ringing in his ears. a light tingling under his skin that pulses out and down. being kissed was.. an experience. dean's stubble scratched along his jaw, their noses bumped, he could feel each individual contact point between dean's body and his own. he could hear the lyrics of one of dean's songs playing softly in the back of his mind. ]

[ 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.

[ Would that Dean could read minds himself just for a moment, because if he had any inclination... even the faintest clue that Cas was hearing Zeppelin in the back of his mind while they kissed? It's hard to say which would pop first, his heart or his dick. It'd certainly be a race against time, and it'd send him tumbling off a cliff one way or another, but one direction with much deeper, more long-term results.

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... ~~felt~~ ~~wanted~~

And 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. ]

[ castiel, for as little effort he actively puts into human emotion ( understanding and feeling ), hadn't thought through the consequences of his actions.

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. ]

[ At his name, Dean's shoulders shift up another hair. Biceps tight, right hand on his mouth, left hovering somewhere off to his side for want of something to do with it. He's gotta get a grip, he's gotta reel himself back from... whatever the hell that was, because that's. That's too much. That's not sex. Not the kind of sex Dean has anymore, anyway. Not the kind you can put on a shelf and take it back off again.

It's the kind you wake up to in the morning.

Panic starts to filter in, tempered only by the use of the word need. By the murmuring of safeword that brings Dean's brows to knit, and he shifts just enough to angle himself toward where Cas slopes forward. The barest of turns, arms folding over one another across his chest.

That safeword, it's not right. ]

No. [ He admits gruffly, darkly, a sort of bark. ] Not really.

[ castiel has to explain himself. dean deserves that but he doesn’t know what to say.

it was serious. more than a casual brush off or a pitiful attempt. their roles meant nothing when it comes down to it. they’re cas and dean before they’re dom and sub. castiel may feel off but dean probably did too. he was aware enough to know this was all strange. for both of them. ]

I don’t know what sex feels like but that didn’t feel like sex. [ not bad. keep going. ] Just sex.

[ maybe dean would understand if castiel kept talking. he could do that. ramble on until dean got to the same page. ]

I couldn’t think or breathe. You kissed me, Dean, and I wanted to spend eternity kissing you in return. My body was hot and buzzing. [ he leans back and touches his bare belly. ] There are butterflies in my stomach. [ that’s the correct phrase, right? ]

I can’t take this lightly and I don’t want you to.

[ Cas starts talking and Dean has to drop his eyes away after just sex. Can't quite meet his gaze anymore. He settles them just off to Castiel's left, somewhere near the floor, near his ankle where bare feet touch the carpet still like he's just... human. Just a guy, just a sockless shoeless guy.

It's real. It's all too real, isn't it?

He speaks out all the things Dean himself had been feeling, things he had absolutely zero intention to voice. Never planned on speaking the words, never planned on admitting a single bit of it, but it doesn't matter what his intentions are if Cas beats him to the punch. He considers, for a second, saying cupid himself. Can you safeword your way out of feelings? God knows he's tried.

His lips part for a second, and he falters before admitting: ]

It's too much.

[ It's an agreement more than anything. Cas is right.

It's too much to just be sex. There's too much between them for them to nail one out in a motel room bed and expect everything to be okay. It's too much to... god damn dominate Cas like this place is... making them do this.

He moves, slow and careful steps to the bed where he settles on the corner, perched, to burry his face into his hands and scrub it for a second.

His chest still aches a little. Lips still sing. He's still hard in his jeans, but less so. What the hell are they doing. What the hell was he thinking. ]

Jesus.

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