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peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
TDM 05
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our KING SUITES for all new arrivals. We will endeavor to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience.
As a token of our gratitude for your understanding, front reception has arranged for a GRAND FEAST to welcome our newest guests. The attendance of all guests is required. The house will enforce compliance.
Please note that rank-appropriate attire is mandatory. Guests found breaking social code may be disciplined. We hope you enjoy your stay! 】
ARRIVAL
DIVINE AWAKENING
All King suites have been set to the Heavenly setting for the comfort of these new Wildcards. To call this place a room feels like a misnomer; all of the senses scream that this is a real temple at the top of a crisp oceanside mountain. The only clue that this place isn't what it seems is the door in the distance. It stands dark against light, a stark rectangle distinctly out of place.
New arrivals aren't waking up alone. Reception would never expect their guests to wake up in a cold bed. All new guests will be waking up next to another Wildcard or a current guest snatched up from the hallways. Guests waking up in these heavenly King suites will wake dressed in sheer white tunics and togas that leave very little to the imagination.
GILDED CAGE
AN ENDLESS FEAST
Rugs and cushions have been laid out for low rank guests. All high rank guests have thrones and benches covered in crushed velvet and delicate linens. Wildcards have a seat of honor amongst it all, each fresh new divine lead to the grand dais for their own semi-private tent with daybed and eager servants.
Low ranks are carefully watched by security and wait staff. Some low rank guests may even be dragged in by resort staff to assist serving high rank guests and Wildcards. All high rank guests and Wildcards are revered and catered to during the feast. Low rank guests are expected to feed them, rub their feet, and comply with any whimsical demands. Any low rank guest that defies a higher ranked guest is at risk of being shackled, forced to scrub chamber pots, and other humiliating punishments.
PHOENIX CASINO
ALEA IACTA EST
The game tables are abuzz. Special games have kicked off in honor of the new godlings that are waiting to check in. Even here, those of different ranks are distinct from one another. The lowest ranks wear small slips of clothing. Some are even collared to show they belong to a particular royal or Wildcard. Royals and Wildcards dress luxuriously in thick robes and golden jewelry.
Game managers clap and encourage guests of all ranks to join in on the fun. While there are numerous card games, slot machines, and raffles happening around the casino, staff are promoting three events in particular.
BEAK
ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS
Beneath the open arena is a smaller closed arena and the warrior’s bunk. Warriors will find cold showers, rustic wooden benches, and training weapons available for their use. Deep in the earth is a grimy prison where servants who refuse to battle are thrown to wait for their turn. There are also cages where the hungry “animals” wait to go out and entertain the masses.
A long track rings around the perimeter of the arena. Gone is the standard green fuzz and white lines, replaced with stone and dust to elicit the real feeling of running beneath the hot Grecian sun. Foot and chariot races take place throughout the day.
TALON
SHOW OF STRENGTH
Servants that appear too fragile to handle mud wrestling have been conscripted into the oil bearer role. Their job is to slather the warriors in oil from head to toe, and otherwise prepare them for their matches in either the arena or in the pit. This includes styling their hair, tending to their wounds, and wiping the sweat off of their bodies if so desired.
The locker rooms that connect Beak and Talon have been fully stocked with first aid kits and luxury bathing supplies. Warriors that have won their matches get first pick, leaving the dirty towels and shampoo that smells like ass for the losers to sift through. Those sneaky ghost hands are having a field day, snapping rat tails at unsuspecting bathers and locking naked warriors together in the supply closet. Guests lacking vigilance may find their bottoms unexpectedly pinched.
INDULGENCE
DESIRES FROM THE VOID
Things begin to move around the resort. The forgotten and the old exhale a dusty breath. Like the hunger that the Wildcards woke up with upon arrival, as its heart begins to beat quicker, there is a tension in the air of those things hungering to feed. To join in, and indulge. To get what they want.
And they’re coming out.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: Alcohol; aphrodisiacs; battle; blood; bondage; compulsion; costumes; discipline; dominance; drowning; dubcon; fears; fighting; food; hierarchy; humiliation; indulgence; kidnapping; noncon; paranormal; power imbalance; roleplay; servitude; stalking; submission; supernatural; terror; violence; weapons
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
no subject
Not in service, really. Just a deviant. And a writer.
[ But he repeats himself. 😎👉🏻👉🏻 ]
And where I spit depends on what I want.
[ He smooths the hair down again, running his thumb over Baptiste's hairline to wipe away the sweat. He's hardly noticed his hunger waning, as Baptiste tends to him. Perhaps because even with the edge taken off, he's still starving, and still ignoring it. ]
Christ, you're warm. You ought to be having some of that wine.
👈👈😎
However, the tenderness as his sweat is wipes away shifts the attention back upward. A thumb buries itself into the valley of bone and muscle at the man's shin as it strokes downward.]
I am? [His flesh radiated heat and yet all Baptiste could feel was the gnawing chill that had made its home in his bones. There is a genuine look of surprise that crosses his face. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips before he lets out a wistful sigh.] If only I could feel it. Though maybe a bit of wine could help...
[Baptiste pauses in his massaging before he gets to the other foot. Instead he straightens his posture, leans forward. Oil slick fingers reach up to stroke down his own neck - a coy gesture before he speaks again.]
Then a fellow deviant - ah. I'm sorry - artist could feed me some? [Baptiste winks, trying his luck with a tease.] My hands are busy you see... [Despite his hands now being quite idle as they instead move to rest at Alan's knees.] and maybe a little familiarity will help you feel comfortable?
[Baptiste knows full well Alan probably doesn't regularly feed people wine. Yet how could he resist a shot for a bit of fun?]
no subject
If the situation were different -- if both of them were here by choice, and neither of them were simmering with resentments for others -- what would he do? He hasn't had much sex that didn't revolve around his own lack of power: slighter than the other man, younger than the other man, poorer than the other man, owing something to the other man. This other man (whose name he still doesn't know, he realizes) is very much someone he'd happily get on his knees for. If the situation were different.
The situation is not different. The situation is the smell of massage oil and wine, the heat of his temporary manservant's skin, and the gnawing longing in his own body. He misses Jack, horribly. He wonders what Baptiste's mustache would feel like against his neck. He's starving.
Alan rubs a thumb over his own lips, then leans over -- not dislodging Baptiste's hands -- to retrieve the carafe of wine and an empty glass on the side table. When he pours, the carafe chatters musically against the rim of the glass for a moment. ]
Here.
[ He sets down the carafe, then holds the glass towards Baptiste's lips. ]
You're not Catholic, are you?
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Alan laughs and Baptiste is content to bask in the attention. He watches the man tug idly at his own lips and wonders what taste clings to them. He dreams of them laden with the tang of sweat after having caressed another's body with kisses. Light lashes flutter over his own gaze, his tongue swiping over his own bottom lip - a silent wish to feel the pad of a thumb against his own lips.
The clink of glassware calls his attention back. He tilts his head upward. Yet the question catches him off guard. It's his turn to laugh.]
If I still am, I'm an incredibly bad one. [The LaFontaine family had endeavored to make vampire hunting their entire personality for generations. While they were technically Catholic, Baptiste would bet most of them went through the motions simply for the extra protection it offered them against the supernatural.
... Never mind that Baptiste hasn't attended any sort of mass for over two decades. The life of a traveling circus performer/undercover hunter has left him with very little time or desire to stay connected with the 'finer' points of spirituality.
Baptiste wets his lips. Opens his mouth to invite the lip of the glass against his own.]
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[ The look on his face is amused, for a moment. When he brings the glass to Baptiste's lip and tips it up, though, his expression becomes more focused: his eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he hones in on the liquid and Baptiste's mouth and tries to neither spill nor choke him. ]
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In fact, it's a pleasant surprise. Baptiste doesn't have to lean on his own expertise of suddenly throwing liquids into the back of his throat. Instead, he finds himself indulging. It is a rare moment of relinquishing some of his own control as steadily drinks. A tart, smoking taste builds in his mouth - intermingling with the sweetened scent of the oil and the feeling of a careful tension to his lips.
It is a staggering trifecta, one that only highlights the feeling of desire that once again stirs. A contented shiver runs up his spine - a glimpse of placation from the suit's effects.
His fingers splay out just above Alan's knees. A twitch as they adjust their purchase. They do not travel further up the man's thighs just yet. Rather, they simply fall into repose.
Baptiste continues to drink, lips working against the side of the cup to ensure he didn't spill a drop from this act. He'll drink until the glass is empty. Blue eyes crack open as his tongue flicks out to press its appreciation to the rim of the glass. A tongue growing more and more wistful to press against the flesh of his momentary 'lord.'
He doesn't move away. Doesn't speak. Instead, he waits. Watches the other with an unspoken desire.]
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Alan can count the number of men who've sucked him off, rather than vice versa, on one hand. (Granted, he barely needs two hands to count the number of men he's slept with at all.) One is Jack, who belongs to his own category. The other was in a poorly lit room, and the visuals didn't enter into it much. Now, watching Baptiste's throat work, he thinks dizzily I've been leaving a lot out, haven't I?
God, what a scene this would make in a story. He could go back to his authorial roots. A Roman slave -- a blond Northman, obviously, claimed after a losing battle -- fed wine by his praetorian master, until the master's impatience takes over and he pulls the Northman forward to service his prick--
Alan's own prick throbs, like it wants to remind him of the possibilities. His knees fall outwards a bit under Baptiste's touch. That shiver in Baptiste, the flick of tongue, heated blue eyes.
Alan swallows. He's parched. ]
Fuck.
[ He sounds hoarse. ]
Did that help?
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Hunger?
That is what he'd heard the other gods complain of as they lounged into their desperate hedonism. A discontent he'd loved to see amongst those who had been poised to receive anything they demanded. How could he not gloat and prolong their search for relief? The grip his suit had on him now is a price well worth paying-
However, when faced with the realization that this fellow deviant must've been gripped with the same ravenous need...
It would seem he isn't the only one in a spot of trouble. A trouble that he's far more sympathetic to than the plights of any of the other 'esteemed' guests. Perhaps it is the glimpse of a kindred soul. Or the firm, steady defiance of the role Alan had been assigned. Quite possibly, it could simply be those damn, distracting dark curls that remind him of his lover back home.
Whatever it is, it settles alongside the outside influence that continually wears him thin to the idea of obedience. A glimmer of desire to beat the inevitable by throwing himself in wholly, completely...
A slow inhale follows the other man's question. The chill in his body persists, yet the warmth of indulgent comfort settles as a tingling in his nose. He shifts his position to move past the glass that had been offered for him.
A steady, slow encroachment-
One that halts but a few inches from the other man's face. Close enough to smell the wine on Baptiste's breath or feel the heat from his flesh. Far enough to wait for his "lord's" blessing. His eyes glance downward toward the man's throat, as if to silently admit that he'd seen the swallow that had looked near-painful.]
A delightful reprieve... though dare I say that you may need help? [Baptiste's voice is low. Traces of breathlessness still cling to his words.]
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Lifting his free hand, Alan cups Baptiste's cheek and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. He swallows again with a dry click. ]
Yeah. Er. I think I lost my sense somewhere in that.
I don't ... don't kiss me?
[ But don't leave either, for God's sake don't leave. ]
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The drawn nature of each 'advancement' reminiscent of the penny bodice-snatchers he'd idly flipped through on the road time and time again. The spark of yearning this ignites in his soul threatens to awaken some affinity for this sort of subservience.
Anticipation is the lover of Adrenaline, after all-
Baptiste's lips part with the caress of the pad of the other's thumb. His grip on the other's thighs tighten.
And then that 'command' comes. Baptiste blinks, a curious wonder crossing his expression. His head cocks to the side, cheek nestling into the other's palm. The inflection at the end of the other's request brings with it a clear question.
A question that Baptiste allows to slip away between them without a second thought.]
Then you'll have to use what sense you have left to tell me what you want. [A warm response. Yet with a light of mischief in his eyes, his mouth opens as he takes the other's thumb inside. His tongue slides over the pad of Alan's tongue.]
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He's so used to being on the other side of this: commanded, not commanding. There are plenty of reasons for that. Ordering someone around doesn't get him hard the way it does Jack. And when you fuck for the sake of escaping your own mind for a while, putting in a lot of thought to tell your partner what to do is a bit counterproductive.
But he's written both sides of the story often enough. If he can marshal his thoughts, he'll know what to say.
It'd be easier with a pen. It'd be easier if Baptiste's mouth weren't so hot. ]
You know what I want.
[ This ... does not come out like a command. It comes out closer to scolding, almost petulant with need. ]
I can tell you've done this before.
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The art of such performances follows him behind closed doors, the urge to show-off too strong for him to shake-off. So when Alan's response is both petulant and complimentary, Baptiste finds himself basking in the recognition.]
[Baptiste lets the thumb slip from his mouth, breath hot against the damp skin before he practically purrs.] As have you.
[A shift of his head to nestle against that hand once more. An indulgence of contact that has his eyes slipping closed. He allows himself the sensation for a passing moment as his hands roam to begin tugging away the already disheveled, pooled fineries that still clung to Alan's hips.
This reveal gives way to an intentional teasing of fingertips up the side of Alan's cock. The quirk of his smile presses into the other man's palm as he does so. A blue eye slits open in amusement to take in the sight of the other man 'above' him.
He still didn't know this man's name, did he? With no true term of address to assign the other - Baptiste leans on what's expected of him.]
Now let me give you exactly what you need, my lord~ [That term of address causes his own cock to throb despite himself. The satisfaction of falling into this role with this temporary lord on his own terms brings with it an eager warmth in his gut.
His weight shifts between Alan's legs. His body leans in a sharp angle as his face finds its way between the man's thighs. One hand is entangled in cloth to keep it draped open. The other's fingers begin to curl around the other man's prick just as Baptiste's hot presses to an exposed expanse of shaft.
cw: mention of Edwardian-period homophobia
The tips of his fingers dig into Baptiste's cheek for a moment. When Baptiste starts to lean down, though, Alan lets go of him and, in a concession to his instincts, presses his hand over his own mouth instead to muffle his moan.
For some reason, when Baptiste's mouth reaches his cock, the metaphor that floats through Alan's mind is ice cream. A treat. A relief. Sharp contrast to the heat, rich, creamy. Satiation.
He's not quite fully hard when Baptiste first touches him, but that doesn't last long. If Baptiste does look up, he'll find his lord's eyes fixed on him, dark and hungry over his hand, a curl falling over his forehead. ]
no subject
The phantom sensation of Alan's fingertips against his face remains, a memory that only helps to stir his own arousal. An insatiable feeling that he meets with a shift of his hand. He presses a caress of his thumb against the slit of cockhead.
There is no hesitation. No lasting question of who may stumble upon them or what would happen in retaliation - if only because Baptiste is haughty enough to believe he could outrun any such consequence. He'd lived on the outside of 'acceptable' society for so long that even before finding himself here - there had been little shame in his displays.
Baptiste's tongue drags upward - a glimpse of pure hedonism as his eyes meet Alan's once more.
He would dare to call it a beautiful sight. Dark eyes transfixed on him and just what he could do. The bounce of that curl as it falls, the shifting of muted breath beneath that palm... A hum leaves Baptiste's throat as he presses a kiss to the tip of the man's prick.
He buys himself a moment with this indulgence before he has to tear his eyes away from the lustful visage. His mouth opens before he begins to take the man's arousal in.]
no subject
Alan moans again, strangled. His cock twitches under Baptiste's kiss. Keeping his hand over his mouth can't last, and as Baptiste takes him in, Alan finally drops his hand back down to Baptiste's hair, bracing himself with the other hand behind him on the daybed.
For now, he doesn't do anything like hold Baptiste in place, or direct his mouth. His fingers comb frenetically through Baptiste's hair, though, making it stick up every which way. ]
Fuck. [ Still straining for quiet. ] Oh, Christ.
no subject
His balancing grip that is entangled in cloth fineries tightens as his head begins to bob. The steady undulation uninterrupted by wandering fingers. As his hair is tousled by the other man's touch, the sensation of fingers caressing at his scalp is a welcome treat.
Alan struggles to maintain a sense of secrecy and the strained threads in his voice are silently relished. Behind closed eyes, Baptiste can still see the starved gaze the man had worn only moments ago-
His other hand finds purchase on the man's inner thigh. Thumb brushing sensitive skin near his sac - a promise of carnal reverence.]
no subject
Yes, fuck, please.
[ What's he supposed to call him? Not "boy," and certainly not any of the really sharpened barbs he'd throw around with Jack. You can't just pull out gutter-filth on a man you don't know. Not while he's got your prick in his mouth and his hand at your short and curlies. ]
You bloody devil.
[ Yes -- yes, that feels all right, even if it comes out shaky. He feels Baptiste's tongue slide up under the head of his cock, where his foreskin is mostly drawn back, and his fingers spasm in Baptiste's hair. ]
no subject
Though he catches a glimpse of the man no longer hidden behind the palm of his hand. Handsome face and dark gaze ensnared by the heat of his own mouth. Baptiste can't help but hum as he bobs downward once more.
A miserable godling and a bloody devil. He is quite fond of those potential roles. A performance that Baptiste wouldn't dream of turning down. To invite someone down to 'hell' with him, only to charm them in such a way that they wouldn't dream of clawing their way back up?
Perhaps it is an act he knows all too well.
Each movement of his head has him taking just a little more of the other's prick into his mouth. The hand at the man's inner thigh grows tired of simply teasing tender flesh with his thumb alone. Instead, he shifts to palm at the other's sac. A coaxing squeeze as cock slides down Baptiste's throat.]
no subject
But back to now, where the infernal is seducing the divine.
Alan bites back a moan. One of his legs jerks. He doesn't think he can last much longer, not if Baptiste keeps him down his throat like that, fuck. His balls are drawn up tight under Baptiste's palm. He'd better say something. ]
Do you want--
[ Fuck. He shouldn't have said anything. All his attempts at keeping his pleasure behind his teeth are wrecked when he starts trying to form words; they come out just a little too loud and desperate. ]
--in your mouth? [ he finishes, before slapping his hand over his lips again and tightening his hand in Baptiste's hair. Invoking the idea of coming in Baptiste's mouth, and hearing his own hoarse need in his voice, has him that much closer to the edge. ]
no subject
To find that Alan's keen observations and gorgeous prose also just so happened to be delivered through smut?
Alan would've ensnared the partnership of the man before him. A passionate friend with a benefit or two, even!
A potential friend who just so happens to have said passionate mouth wrapped around the author's cock. The twitch of muscle is a precursor to the inevitable completion of this thorough seduction.
Where the stifled moan fills Baptiste's wanting body with a sense of triumph - it is the less-than-perfect delivery of Alan's question that nearly robs the blonde of his sense. The fantasy of becoming a tangle of limbs and weight in the welcoming arms of that extravagant chaise or the promised entanglement of heat and sweat...
A short-lived fantasy with the pull of his hair as the other's grip grew tighter. It brings him back to the now.
Baptiste slowly pulls his mouth upward, a purposeful press of his tongue tracing his path. The tip of his tongue tugs at pulled foreskin before his warm mouth separates. Immediately, his mouth yearns for the cock it had pressed its venerations into. His breath is thick as he pants against the head. An action initially meant to be a long tease for the man below him only taunts them both. A thread of spit laces lip to tip.
The taut pull of this connection pulls Baptiste back forward.]
Fully- [A one-word response, hoarse and low. Too impatient for a more coy exchange, his lips part as he takes the other in. An intentional push to engulf the other entirely, back into his throat. His palm massages the other man's balls with a silken touch as a moan rumbles in his own throat.]
no subject
It's a miracle he doesn't come right there. Or, no, it's not a miracle, because Baptiste doesn't give him time, thank God, and Alan's cock is back in that tight embrace, thank God, and Jesus, the man's hands, that moan, the impatience of him like he can't get enough of Alan's body, oh God, and Alan comes like a shot, his palm barely muffling his groan.
A-fucking-men.
As the throbs of pleasure subside, Alan un-gags himself. The sound of his own rough breathing fills the little pavilion, and he drops both hands to Baptiste's head again, stroking his hair and the back of his neck. Some men get oversensitive after orgasm, but he's always liked the feeling of touching and being touched right after. For a few seconds he gets to be soft as sealing wax, content to be imprinted. ]
no subject
Replaced instead by a familiar, welcome warmth and fawning hands.
Baptiste's head swims with the transition, and yet a smile plays at his features as he straightens. His own half-hardened desire is temporarily lost in a wave of touch. The hand of his that had balled up in finery reaches to cup at Alan's cheek. Yet he does not move to kiss the man.
Instead he stares at the man fondly, indulging in the strokes to his hair. A sigh slips through his curved lips.]
I could get used to someone like you bailing me out of trouble. [He breaks his panted silence with something that makes himself. Airy and certainly relieved. He offers the other man a wink.]
[One hand to Alan's face - fingers searching to touch at curls he's been eyeing all night. The other gives an appreciative brush over the side of the man's hip.]
no subject
What's "someone like you" supposed to mean?
[ He feels better than he has all day. A trifle loose in the joints from a good suck, certainly, but more satisfied than just that. Less thirsty, and less thirsty still when Baptiste caresses him. ]
no subject
Fun.
[The word exits his mouth. His lashes flutter as he glances upwards and nods, mulling it over.] I mean, you're a mite difficult, but spirited! A fellow deviant, and one that's easy on the eyes...
[An intentional pause.]
Someone I'd enjoy talking with beyond the whole lord-servant roleplay, even. [Baptiste says this, but something in his posture and a coy glance projects a 'Well. Unless...']
[His hand now rests at the other's hip bone, thumb teasing idly circles into it. Despite being aware of how he should pull away, Baptiste selfishly draws the moment out. It's warm. Comfortable.
And no one would dare pull him from an 'esteemed guest' such as this, which is also a boon in itself.]
no subject
"A mite difficult, but spirited." I'll have to remember that one.
[ Like many artists, he never quite knows how to take a compliment. "Easy on the eyes" is sufficiently casual to let him keep the momentum up, at least, and tease in return. ]
You made it look easy on the rest of you, too. [ Alan drops a hand to run the backs of his fingers down Baptiste's throat illustratively. ] You're good at that. No wonder you get in trouble. [ His voice drops lower -- not a rumble, just rough, laced with amusement. ] If this is what you do to get out of it, you must get in trouble a lot.
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