【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system. We have arranged for a selection of basement suites to temporarily house new arrivals until reservations have been processed. We hope you'll join us in giving our new guests a warm and loving welcome.
We have an exciting announcement! The house will be hosting a carnival for all guests to celebrate the Golden Peacock's birthday. Please look forward to food, games, and attractions in the Cloud-Dwelling Garden. The carnival will be available for guests to enjoy for seven days. Happy birthday week, Golden Peacock*!
We hope you are as thrilled as we are! And, as always, we hope you enjoy your stay.
*Please note that this is an arbitrarily chosen date for the Golden Peacock's birthday, which is unknown. 】
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▶ All TDMs are game canon and this TDM acts as the game's July event. The carnival will run July 15th - July 22nd.
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▶ 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!
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[ although tseng knows next to nothing about thancred as of yet, there's something about him that gives the impression of a man not entirely dissimilar to tseng—that is to say, someone who can endure quite a lot if it's asked of him. perhaps it's for that reason that tseng makes such a point of driving the idea home. if they're to indulge in each other, tseng would really rather it not feel like just another day at work, something unpleasant to get through for the sake of having gotten through it.
from where he's still half-submerged in the water of the spring, tseng watches thancred move, openly appreciating the shape of his body as he lifts himself up from the ledge and makes his way across the open space between them and the gazebo. this is not the form of a man whose muscles are for show, that much tseng can tell. ]
Behind your back, [ tseng says. ] With each hand holding your opposite forearm, just below the elbow.
[ it's a position he's chosen precisely for the fact that it will make the bondage extremely difficult to escape, if thancred is inclined to try. it also has the secondary benefit of putting his chest on display, and although tseng doesn't know whether or not thancred is especially sensitive there, he figures it's worth a go.
once he's had his fill of watching, tseng pulls himself up out of the water and, after a similarly cursory pass at drying himself, makes his way across the room to search through a nearby low, lacquered chest for the additional implements he now assumes are in pretty much every closed drawer provided by the resort. he's pleased to be proven immediately right, as he unearths a bottle of lube, a pair of nipple clamps with a chain between them, and a soft leather flogger with white tails. ]
How do you feel about being struck? Spanked, or with this. [ he slaps the leather tails across his palm to demonstrate that it's really less of a whipping than it is a broader kind of spanking. ]
[It's always a bit strange, these moments when his activity of choice makes him conscious of his own lack of body armor. It's become like a second skin to him over time, ever-present, almost-but-not-quite letting him take for granted his ability to tank a hit and stay standing. The position Tseng chooses for his arms is one that necessitates an arch to his back and his chest lightly thrust out, and it's not that it leaves him feeling vulnerable exactly, just...conscious. Aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat. Aware of the lingering droplets on his skin pulling the heat out of his body to evaporate.
But he arranges himself neatly, opting indeed to put a towel beneath his knees for added comfort — he might've easily done without it, but it's a signal as much as it is anything else, that he's marked Tseng's insistence on avoiding needless discomfort — and settles his arms easily into place as he awaits what might come next. It's the sight of the flogger, of all things, that makes his closed mouth flood with silent interest. It's a pretty thing, and the sound of it is familiar like a distant memory.
He'd once known a madam in Limsa who'd been a deft hand with just such an apparatus — a former pirate put out of business by the Admiral's prohibitions who'd turned to more settled pursuits in their place. Sea discipline mapped easily to similarly salacious arts, after all. She'd taught him how to throw it as well as how to take it. No chance of learning the former, she'd told him, until he'd been subjected to what he might someday dish out.
A good memory, all told. Good enough that he almost misses the question, and salvages it just in time to escape a chiding for failing to pay attention.]
Favorable — provided you know what it feels like yourself.
[If he's going to be expected to be a dutiful sub, he supposes that at least entitles him to prompt his dom to prove himself as well.]
Knew a lass once who called it her "three-score kisses". I'd rather like to feel yours.
[ provided you know what it feels like yourself, thancred says. tseng had assumed that this isn't thancred's first time around the proverbial block, and the comment serves as all the confirmation he needs that his assumption was correct. no complete novice to bdsm arts would care whether or not the dominant partner had firsthand experience with the implements they intended to use—that thancred knows to stipulate means, at the very least, that he's seen the inside of someone's playroom once or twice.
tseng strokes a hand over the long tails of the whip and nods once in affirmation. ] Intimately, [ he agrees. ] The woman who trained me made sure of it.
[ just like thancred's madam in limsa, tseng's madam in midgar had been insistent that he understand what it felt like to be on the receiving end as well. only that way could he truly appreciate, truly respect what his submissives would endure at his behest. not that thancred strikes tseng as truly submissive in any sense of the word, but it's the principle of the thing.
for now, though, the flogger is left atop the box as tseng moves instead to bind thancred's arms. the position he's assumed is exactly the one tseng hoped for, with his chest on display and his back slightly arched, and as he makes quick, efficient work of the lovely knots that will hold thancred's forearms in place, tseng asks, ] Is your chest sensitive?
[ then, after a pause, ] No, don't answer that. I'd rather find out myself.
[He can't help it; he grins lazy and eager as Tseng poses him the question and then immediately takes it back, absently testing the knotwork once it's been set into place. Better than he'd expect from an amateur, which just goes to the notion that Tseng is anything but an amateur. He could still get out of it if he really tried, he muses silently, but he suspects that was intentional, too. They had discussed the honor system, and all. Nothing but your conscience to keep you well-behaved.
He doesn't want to think about his conscience, though. Not at a time like this. Play like this is supposed to be about being free of his thoughts for a while, rather than getting down deep beneath the weight of them.
So instead, he keeps his eyes on the flogger, perfectly holding position despite the slight stress it demands from holding his chest out and his forearms parallel with each other behind his back. He could keep that up awhile, too, even if this all never got any more interesting than just that.
From the sound of it, though, Tseng's about to make things much more interesting in short order. Good. He wants it, more than he's willing to admit even to himself in the privacy of his own mind.]
I reckon you're a fair hand with all this, and now I'm feeling fairly motivated to impress you. Would you like to see me hold my tongue? Tell me to be silent and you'll not hear a sound out of me, on my honor.
[ although thancred, tseng expects, will have fewer than most. he doesn't know the details of how and why thancred came to be trained the way that he is, but tseng recognizes him as a kindred spirit—and if he were pushed to an educated guess, he thinks he might have an idea or two about the things that thancred would be capable of enduring, if tseng really asked him to.
which is why, perhaps, tseng shakes his head in a brief but immediate negative in answer to thancred's question. ]
No, [ he says. ] I think holding your tongue in the face of pain or pleasure would be too easy for you.
[ if pressed, tseng wouldn't be able to defend that assertion on anything but vibes, but his gut instinct is very rarely wrong. he trails the flogger over his palm, but his gaze doesn't leave thancred, studying him with a faint half-smile lingering on his lips. how curious, he thinks yet again, to meet someone who seems so much like a turk and yet clearly isn't one. ]
I would much rather that you hold nothing back. Let yourself feel everything I do to you and respond genuinely, forcing neither silence nor sound.
[ if tseng's estimation of thancred is right, and if thancred really was trained the way tseng suspects he might have been, then letting himself respond authentically to sensation will actually be much more of a challenge than endurance would be. ]
[Though the cocksure grin never leaves his expression, the way his gaze flicks briskly upwards to find Tseng's is tell enough: he's been made, and in a way that runs deeper than just an accurate guess about his ability to stay silent. There aren't many who would think to phrase their orders the way that Tseng does, asking — commanding, within the confines of their game — genuine reactions without filter. Most wouldn't consider it because they wouldn't think to assume that being genuine would be aught to ask for to begin with.
But he's been seen, evidently. Appraised accurately enough that this is an ask that will make him work for it, too accustomed to holding his guard to consider what he might look like if he were to let it down willingly.
Still, it's not as though Tseng's the only one who's learned something by it, now. As for himself, he's learned that this is the kind of man who understands someone like him, in ways that most people couldn't begin to parse.
His lips part, and his sigh is soft but natural.]
I'll do my best.
[He says it slowly, almost sleepy, from how he's trying to remember what it is to settle down into his own skin without the sharp edge of calculation drawing him taut.]
Though I'll warn you — you've a fair amount of others' efforts to overcome, to get me there.
[ although tseng feels no particular remorse at having called thancred out so directly, his expression when thancred glances up at him is neither cold nor callous. there's a kind of warmth to it, actually, that will likely be enough to tell thancred—if he hadn't realized already—that the only reason tseng is able to see him so clearly is because tseng himself is much the same. endurance is easy; vulnerability is dangerous, and tseng knows it, which is why he only nods in response to thancred's warning, such that it is. ]
I only ever ask that you do your best, [ he says. ] And that you tell me to stop if you need me to stop.
[ with that said, though, tseng pauses in front of thancred and looks down at him, studying his expression for a moment before he moves. the flogger whips through the air, its tails snapping lightly against thancred's chest—directly over one nipple, in fact. it's risky to apply something like a whip to the chest, where the wrong angle could cause real harm in the hands of someone who doesn't know what they're doing.
lucky for both of them tseng knows exactly what he's doing, then. he starts like this, his touch light but sure, the tails of the flogger meeting skin in stinging kisses that leave blooming warmth behind. a test of whether thancred's chest is sensitive, in a way, and also an introduction to this particular implement, wielded by this particular man. ]
[He knows, intuitively, that the first few strikes aren't going to hurt, strictly speaking. That's part from Tseng's own stated intentions and part from his assessment of the man as a bedroom partner generally; if he were planning a firm round of hits, he'd aim for the backs of the shoulders or the buttocks. Given that he'd promised Thancred would leave here with all his parts intact, and that he's chosen the chest as his target of choice, the likelihood that he's planning to whip a nipple clean off is relatively slim, in his estimation.
So what he's braced for isn't the sort of hard, satisfying hit that rolls through the wrist and leaves that firm, thudding pressure in its wake; these will be lighter lashes, testing ones, that won't bring to mind the feeling of a ten-yalms beast crashing directly against his breastplate. He won't feel impact so much as the aftereffects of a lash already come and gone by the time it stings him at all.
He doesn't jump or flinch when the tails meet his skin; his breathing stays relatively even, though his reactions come mostly in the form of full, rounded sighs. The instinct to smother even those tells is, of course, there at once, but he tries his best to push it away and let his body relax — paradoxical though that might sound — beneath the lash.
It's after the first few have landed, and his skin is warming to the sensation, that he feels the sounds starting to escape and consciously relaxes his jaw to permit them. One of the tails catches his reddening nipple square on and it feels like a lovebite, albeit one vanished too soon; his moan, then, is as much one of loss as it is of sensation.
Hells, he wants teeth, he wants bruises, he wants to feel — because with every burst of simmering pain comes an equal feeling of relief, of release.
Like tenderizing a slab of stubborn meat, he thinks idly, wildly, and keens softly as a replacement for what would likely be rather tonally inappropriate laughter. Gods, but it feels good to have the tension drawn out of him in ways he couldn't do it on his own.]
Oh. S'it too soon for you if I say I'm in love? — ah...
[It's less smartassery and more just the sort of thing that's like to come out of his mouth when he's distracted and unfiltered; his chest is beginning to show the reddened evidence of the flogger's handiwork, and his cock is well past matching it in hue, aroused and swelling with obvious interest.]
[ there's always a need for patience when a flogger is involved, much more so when the person on the business end of the flogger has endurance like thancred clearly does. fortunately tseng has patience in spades, and is perfectly happy to strike in measured, almost tender strokes until the skin under the flogger's tails is beginning to turn red and thancred's nipples are flushed and stiff with stimulation. it's satisfying, too, to hear the little noises that slip free of thancred's lips the longer they're at it, exhales and quiet moans, just as much evidence of his growing arousal as is the flushed cock hanging stiff and heavy between his thighs. ]
A little, [ tseng replies. he doesn't mind the quip. if anything, the distracted way thancred says it makes it seem like it's less calculated and more just a natural consequence of his being occupied by sensation. ] I'd prefer you buy me a drink first, at least.
[ the flogging continues for another few minutes, but eventually tseng pauses. he lets the flogger's tails fall still as he steps closer, first to reach out and pinch one of thancred's nipples and then to cup his chin and turn his face up so tseng can study it. he looks coherent, still, his eyes bright despite the expression of enjoyment on his face. ]
Pretty. [ his other hand plays with thancred's nipple, flicking and then tugging at it. ] This color suits you.
[ tseng drags his thumb over thancred's lower lip, then pulls away entirely. he sets the flogger atop one of the nearby lacquered boxes, then bends to pull open some drawers in search of a toy with a suction end, something he can attach to the floor between thancred's thighs and have him ride while he's being whipped. at this angle it's obvious that thancred isn't the only one of them who's aroused by this situation, but at least for the time being tseng is content to ignore his own erection. ]
More's the pity. All I've got are the clothes on my back and — well.
[Says the man who currently has no clothes on his back, wearing only the marks of the flogger's tails on his skin and the red ink of his Archon's marks on either side of his neck. In fact, when Tseng first lifts his chin, he thinks for a moment that he's out to get a closer look at them, and starts to angle his head just a fraction to better put them on display — but then the firmness of his fingers guides him back the way Tseng wants him, and damned if that doesn't feel good, too.]
Mmm. Like a good book? "Red" all over?
[Such are the hazards, evidently, of asking Thancred Waters to hold nothing back when it comes to his tongue. He sucks lightly at Tseng's thumb while it's close enough to his lips to capture it, but waits patiently when he's soon deprived. He knows the rhythm of play like this well enough to catch that this is both a respite and an imminent escalation, and so his stance doesn't falter even an ilm when Tseng moves away from him — aware that this may well be a test in itself, to hold position whether he's being given the attentions of the flogger or not.]
But in lieu of buying you that drink. Mayhaps I might offer another favor? You're looking a bit tight in the smalls, and I wonder if you'd favor the chance to relieve it.
[ tseng really shouldn't encourage him, but he can't help a quiet snort of amusement. ]
Something like that.
[ it doesn't take long for him to find what he's looking for. the toy he settles on is reasonably-sized, made of a lovely dark purple silicone with a sturdy suction cup at the bottom—perfect for attaching to the flagstones between thancred's knees. tseng brings the toy and a nearby bottle of lube back with him when he approaches thancred once more, considering the offer as he kneels to the ground. ]
I don't see why not, [ he says, as he snaps the bottle of lube open and uses it to liberally coat his fingers. ] I have a few ideas still, but afterwards, we'll see if you can't get me off before you get yourself off.
[ he shifts a little closer and brings his hand up between thancred's thighs, finding his entrance and rubbing a slow circle around it to warm the lube before he slips one finger easily inside. thancred is tight, which is no real surprise to tseng—he doesn't seem like the type who puts himself in this position all too often. ]
[Well. There are plenty of places about Etheirys where one might find certain creative implements for aiding in bedsport — and he is familiar with quite a lot of them on a professional level — but even Thancred has to admit that one of this particular hue, make, and design is a novelty to him. As much curious as appraising, he eyes the toy carefully as Tseng is sinking down to his knees, gauging the length, girth, and shape of it.
It's been a while since he's received; too often, the combination of his own natural gregariousness and his instinct to deprioritize his own satisfaction lends itself to taking charge of the act of penetration, when the opportunity arises. The prospect of having it now doesn't bother him any, however. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's been so long since he's felt the unique pleasure of stimulation from the inside.
What he's less accustomed to, however, is having the benefit of someone else's consideration in preparing him. That, the brush of Tseng's finger into the cleft of his arse, nearly has him break position — if only for a fraction of an instant before he manages to catch and right himself. A breathy wait almost makes it off his tongue, but his own reevaluation comes rapidly. He doesn't want Tseng to stop, and he's not hit his limit. It's just — unexpected, the care in the midst of it all.]
I can handle that, if you'd rather not.
[And maybe it's the fact that his guard has already been deliberately lowered, but there's a touch of vulnerability that clings to the latter half of his offer. He expects so little from his partners, never asking for their care or consideration — happy to give, ever inviting them to take. Even a sensible dom is still within their rights to be perfunctory, the exchanges transactional. Tseng's under no obligation to do himself what he could just as easily have his mark accomplish for him.
He pauses, swallows, and then offers with halfhearted humor: ]
Since I've not bought you a drink yet. And all.
[There's an ask there, unspoken but lingering, and so what if he wants to hear, just for a moment, that prepping him is something that Tseng wants? The man did instruct him to be genuine in what he's feeling. Surely that applies for this, as much as anything else.]
[ the look that tseng gives thancred in response to the interjection is almost certainly one that speaks a thousand words: a skeptical tilt of his head, a pointedly lifted eyebrow. as if to drive the point home tseng's finger slips a little deeper, although he's still careful as he begins to stroke against the hot muscle he finds just inside thancred's entrance. ]
And undo all my hard work getting you into that position?
[ no, thank you. and anyway, while tseng is very much the type to do things out of obligation under the right circumstances and with the right people, this isn't one of them. he pinches almost chidingly at one of thancred's red, sensitive nipples, then clarifies, ] If I didn't want to, I would have made you do it.
[ and his expectation, which goes unsaid, is that if thancred himself doesn't want tseng to prep him he's going to have to say as much. after all, tseng's only ask was that thancred be honest, both about his pleasure and about his limits. he adds a second finger, but moves slowly, curling them lightly forward and then spreading just slightly as he begins to work thancred open around the intrusion in increments; tseng's palm presses just below thancred's balls, applying steady pressure to his prostate from without, and he can feel each twitch and throb of thancred's cock where it rests against his forearm. satisfying. ]
[Hells, that look that Tseng throws him. It's as good as one of Y'shtola's best, all thousand of those unspoken words tailored toward the single unmistakable impression that he shouldn't have had to convey any of them to begin with. The familiarity unwinds him enough to shiver pleasantly as Tseng's finger continues to penetrate him, eyes half-lidded as the distant memory of how it feels to be touched like this comes flooding back into the immediate and familiar.]
Can't help that I've always been the can-do sort.
[Tseng has sinfully deft hands. A little too deliberate, maybe, for the light touch of a pickpocket, but certainly confident in how to stimulate a body to feel far, far better than it deserves to. He groans again, keeping his shoulders back and his arms firm, but with slight movements of his hips that aim to aid in Tseng's efforts to loosen him up.
Without really meaning to, an idle thought spills from his lips.]
What is it you like? The...hhh, the particulars, that is. What appeals most about all this, to you?
[It's neither self-conscious nor self-deprecating. Quite the contrary, it seems altogether honest of him: a genuine attempt to get to know his very satisfactory bedmate better.]
[ maybe it's the reassurance from tseng that has thancred's body relaxing fractionally around his fingers, or maybe some other train of thought entirely. at any rate tseng is glad for it, for how it becomes incrementally easier to press his finger inside thancred, meeting the shallow rocks of his hips with steady, purposeful strokes. a good sign that he's seeking more, however limited he may be in his range of motion. as a reward, tseng curls his finger forward just right to press a hair's breadth to the side of the smooth shape of thancred's prostate.
then he withdraws his finger, and when it returns there are two. once again, tseng focuses on thancred's entrance, now stretched around the girth of twice as many digits as tseng begins to work him open. ]
About fingering you? [ tseng asks. ] Or about this kind of play in general?
[ there's some overlap in the answers, of course, but it's better to be specific. once he's gotten his answer, tseng says, ]
It excites me to be in control, and to know that I'm only in control so long as my partner allows me to be. I also enjoy the process of exploring someone's body and learning what brings them pleasure, what makes them wet or hard or surprises them with how good it feels. [ his fingers slip a little deeper, spreading and then curling forward so he can stroke on both sides of thancred's prostate again. ] And of course I enjoy watching my partners come. Which is why I like making them do it as many times as they can stand. Does that answer your question?
[They really are quite alike, then, aren't they? Not a perfect map of perspectives, but close enough to be unmistakable. The confirmation quiets one of the needling parts of his mind that always insists he give more, do more, act for the benefit of others; it's enough to let this play out according to Tseng's designs, and trust not just that the control he's been given will result in pleasure for himself, but for the both of them in their own ways.]
Mmh...I'd love to hear your notes. See how they compare to my own.
[Whether he means his own understanding of himself, or the similar list of observations he's mentally keeping about Tseng remains unclear, and really anyone's guess. But his eyes are glazing over a little as Tseng's fingers work deeper, and when they begin framing his prostate to tease it, he trembles visibly before dropping his chin to his chest, almost wavering in his stance from how good it feels.
There's a growing spot of wet on the towel beneath his knees from how the tip of his cock is leaking, droplets shaking loose and falling as the cadence of his hips jostles them free to land on the terrycloth below. The prospect of orgasm is abruptly becoming an imminent one, and with any luck, a soon-to-be-realized one; as many times as they can stand is a delicious sort of promise, and he's aware of his own relatively short refractory period, which Tseng himself will soon discover if he keeps his attentions up.]
Does — hah — does "hold nothing back" mean I needn't, nnh, ask your permission to spill? Best — ah, best tell me s-soon or — you won't have a say —
[ although it's less likely that tseng will be as forthcoming with confirmations re: the observations he's sure thancred is making about him, he's more than happy to compare notes when it comes to kink. from what he's gathered, thancred has at least some hands-on experience with the topic, but perhaps not the same framework for it as was imparted onto tseng—and if he's curious, well, tseng teaches at the university for a reason.
but none of that is going to happen now, as an interruption to much more pleasurable pursuits. for a moment tseng really does consider the question, his fingers still moving steadily inside thancred, stretching him in gentle increments—and then, when every bit of thancred's body language suggests that he's on the verge of climax, tseng hums and says, ]
I'll allow it,
[ and strokes his two fingers directly over thancred's prostate in a smooth, steady motion, almost coaxing him into the orgasm that's already threatening to overtake him. ]
[There's something sensational about a man so attuned to his partner's tells that he can time a climax to a spoken command. It's the sort of thing that happens in stories a great deal, and considerably less so in everyday practice. So it makes an impression, when Tseng demonstrates his ability to take his warning for what it is, gauge his proximity to the precipice, and employ precisely the stimulation it will take to shove him soundly over it.
I'll allow it. It's pleasant to hear, and moreso to play off of. Half the fun of rules and requirements is figuring out which ones can be tested and which show off the best of the person enforcing them.
But he was told not to hold back, and so with his last rational thought before orgasm takes him, Thancred does his best to loose the noises from his own throat so they can spill as easily as the spend does from his more-than-ready cock. Gods, but it's been a long time since he's gotten off from this type of stimulation rather than by attention to his member, and it's rare and it's deep and it's good, good enough that his eyes half-close and there's something almost canine in the way he releases his moans, loose and unfettered and unthinking.
Praise the Twelve for the towel between his knees, though his climax hits hard enough that some of the ropes of his spend miss the towel and hit the floor beyond. No telling if Tseng will make for a tough taskmaster and demand he clean up his mess. He's too far out of his mind with satisfaction to consider it right now, regardless.]
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peacockstop2025-07-15 09:00 pm
no subject
from where he's still half-submerged in the water of the spring, tseng watches thancred move, openly appreciating the shape of his body as he lifts himself up from the ledge and makes his way across the open space between them and the gazebo. this is not the form of a man whose muscles are for show, that much tseng can tell. ]
Behind your back, [ tseng says. ] With each hand holding your opposite forearm, just below the elbow.
[ it's a position he's chosen precisely for the fact that it will make the bondage extremely difficult to escape, if thancred is inclined to try. it also has the secondary benefit of putting his chest on display, and although tseng doesn't know whether or not thancred is especially sensitive there, he figures it's worth a go.
once he's had his fill of watching, tseng pulls himself up out of the water and, after a similarly cursory pass at drying himself, makes his way across the room to search through a nearby low, lacquered chest for the additional implements he now assumes are in pretty much every closed drawer provided by the resort. he's pleased to be proven immediately right, as he unearths a bottle of lube, a pair of nipple clamps with a chain between them, and a soft leather flogger with white tails. ]
How do you feel about being struck? Spanked, or with this. [ he slaps the leather tails across his palm to demonstrate that it's really less of a whipping than it is a broader kind of spanking. ]
no subject
But he arranges himself neatly, opting indeed to put a towel beneath his knees for added comfort — he might've easily done without it, but it's a signal as much as it is anything else, that he's marked Tseng's insistence on avoiding needless discomfort — and settles his arms easily into place as he awaits what might come next. It's the sight of the flogger, of all things, that makes his closed mouth flood with silent interest. It's a pretty thing, and the sound of it is familiar like a distant memory.
He'd once known a madam in Limsa who'd been a deft hand with just such an apparatus — a former pirate put out of business by the Admiral's prohibitions who'd turned to more settled pursuits in their place. Sea discipline mapped easily to similarly salacious arts, after all. She'd taught him how to throw it as well as how to take it. No chance of learning the former, she'd told him, until he'd been subjected to what he might someday dish out.
A good memory, all told. Good enough that he almost misses the question, and salvages it just in time to escape a chiding for failing to pay attention.]
Favorable — provided you know what it feels like yourself.
[If he's going to be expected to be a dutiful sub, he supposes that at least entitles him to prompt his dom to prove himself as well.]
Knew a lass once who called it her "three-score kisses". I'd rather like to feel yours.
no subject
tseng strokes a hand over the long tails of the whip and nods once in affirmation. ] Intimately, [ he agrees. ] The woman who trained me made sure of it.
[ just like thancred's madam in limsa, tseng's madam in midgar had been insistent that he understand what it felt like to be on the receiving end as well. only that way could he truly appreciate, truly respect what his submissives would endure at his behest. not that thancred strikes tseng as truly submissive in any sense of the word, but it's the principle of the thing.
for now, though, the flogger is left atop the box as tseng moves instead to bind thancred's arms. the position he's assumed is exactly the one tseng hoped for, with his chest on display and his back slightly arched, and as he makes quick, efficient work of the lovely knots that will hold thancred's forearms in place, tseng asks, ] Is your chest sensitive?
[ then, after a pause, ] No, don't answer that. I'd rather find out myself.
no subject
He doesn't want to think about his conscience, though. Not at a time like this. Play like this is supposed to be about being free of his thoughts for a while, rather than getting down deep beneath the weight of them.
So instead, he keeps his eyes on the flogger, perfectly holding position despite the slight stress it demands from holding his chest out and his forearms parallel with each other behind his back. He could keep that up awhile, too, even if this all never got any more interesting than just that.
From the sound of it, though, Tseng's about to make things much more interesting in short order. Good. He wants it, more than he's willing to admit even to himself in the privacy of his own mind.]
How will you know, one way or another?
[His grin slopes crooked, clearly enjoying himself.]
I reckon you're a fair hand with all this, and now I'm feeling fairly motivated to impress you. Would you like to see me hold my tongue? Tell me to be silent and you'll not hear a sound out of me, on my honor.
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[ although thancred, tseng expects, will have fewer than most. he doesn't know the details of how and why thancred came to be trained the way that he is, but tseng recognizes him as a kindred spirit—and if he were pushed to an educated guess, he thinks he might have an idea or two about the things that thancred would be capable of enduring, if tseng really asked him to.
which is why, perhaps, tseng shakes his head in a brief but immediate negative in answer to thancred's question. ]
No, [ he says. ] I think holding your tongue in the face of pain or pleasure would be too easy for you.
[ if pressed, tseng wouldn't be able to defend that assertion on anything but vibes, but his gut instinct is very rarely wrong. he trails the flogger over his palm, but his gaze doesn't leave thancred, studying him with a faint half-smile lingering on his lips. how curious, he thinks yet again, to meet someone who seems so much like a turk and yet clearly isn't one. ]
I would much rather that you hold nothing back. Let yourself feel everything I do to you and respond genuinely, forcing neither silence nor sound.
[ if tseng's estimation of thancred is right, and if thancred really was trained the way tseng suspects he might have been, then letting himself respond authentically to sensation will actually be much more of a challenge than endurance would be. ]
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But he's been seen, evidently. Appraised accurately enough that this is an ask that will make him work for it, too accustomed to holding his guard to consider what he might look like if he were to let it down willingly.
Still, it's not as though Tseng's the only one who's learned something by it, now. As for himself, he's learned that this is the kind of man who understands someone like him, in ways that most people couldn't begin to parse.
His lips part, and his sigh is soft but natural.]
I'll do my best.
[He says it slowly, almost sleepy, from how he's trying to remember what it is to settle down into his own skin without the sharp edge of calculation drawing him taut.]
Though I'll warn you — you've a fair amount of others' efforts to overcome, to get me there.
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I only ever ask that you do your best, [ he says. ] And that you tell me to stop if you need me to stop.
[ with that said, though, tseng pauses in front of thancred and looks down at him, studying his expression for a moment before he moves. the flogger whips through the air, its tails snapping lightly against thancred's chest—directly over one nipple, in fact. it's risky to apply something like a whip to the chest, where the wrong angle could cause real harm in the hands of someone who doesn't know what they're doing.
lucky for both of them tseng knows exactly what he's doing, then. he starts like this, his touch light but sure, the tails of the flogger meeting skin in stinging kisses that leave blooming warmth behind. a test of whether thancred's chest is sensitive, in a way, and also an introduction to this particular implement, wielded by this particular man. ]
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So what he's braced for isn't the sort of hard, satisfying hit that rolls through the wrist and leaves that firm, thudding pressure in its wake; these will be lighter lashes, testing ones, that won't bring to mind the feeling of a ten-yalms beast crashing directly against his breastplate. He won't feel impact so much as the aftereffects of a lash already come and gone by the time it stings him at all.
He doesn't jump or flinch when the tails meet his skin; his breathing stays relatively even, though his reactions come mostly in the form of full, rounded sighs. The instinct to smother even those tells is, of course, there at once, but he tries his best to push it away and let his body relax — paradoxical though that might sound — beneath the lash.
It's after the first few have landed, and his skin is warming to the sensation, that he feels the sounds starting to escape and consciously relaxes his jaw to permit them. One of the tails catches his reddening nipple square on and it feels like a lovebite, albeit one vanished too soon; his moan, then, is as much one of loss as it is of sensation.
Hells, he wants teeth, he wants bruises, he wants to feel — because with every burst of simmering pain comes an equal feeling of relief, of release.
Like tenderizing a slab of stubborn meat, he thinks idly, wildly, and keens softly as a replacement for what would likely be rather tonally inappropriate laughter. Gods, but it feels good to have the tension drawn out of him in ways he couldn't do it on his own.]
Oh. S'it too soon for you if I say I'm in love? — ah...
[It's less smartassery and more just the sort of thing that's like to come out of his mouth when he's distracted and unfiltered; his chest is beginning to show the reddened evidence of the flogger's handiwork, and his cock is well past matching it in hue, aroused and swelling with obvious interest.]
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A little, [ tseng replies. he doesn't mind the quip. if anything, the distracted way thancred says it makes it seem like it's less calculated and more just a natural consequence of his being occupied by sensation. ] I'd prefer you buy me a drink first, at least.
[ the flogging continues for another few minutes, but eventually tseng pauses. he lets the flogger's tails fall still as he steps closer, first to reach out and pinch one of thancred's nipples and then to cup his chin and turn his face up so tseng can study it. he looks coherent, still, his eyes bright despite the expression of enjoyment on his face. ]
Pretty. [ his other hand plays with thancred's nipple, flicking and then tugging at it. ] This color suits you.
[ tseng drags his thumb over thancred's lower lip, then pulls away entirely. he sets the flogger atop one of the nearby lacquered boxes, then bends to pull open some drawers in search of a toy with a suction end, something he can attach to the floor between thancred's thighs and have him ride while he's being whipped. at this angle it's obvious that thancred isn't the only one of them who's aroused by this situation, but at least for the time being tseng is content to ignore his own erection. ]
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[Says the man who currently has no clothes on his back, wearing only the marks of the flogger's tails on his skin and the red ink of his Archon's marks on either side of his neck. In fact, when Tseng first lifts his chin, he thinks for a moment that he's out to get a closer look at them, and starts to angle his head just a fraction to better put them on display — but then the firmness of his fingers guides him back the way Tseng wants him, and damned if that doesn't feel good, too.]
Mmm. Like a good book? "Red" all over?
[Such are the hazards, evidently, of asking Thancred Waters to hold nothing back when it comes to his tongue. He sucks lightly at Tseng's thumb while it's close enough to his lips to capture it, but waits patiently when he's soon deprived. He knows the rhythm of play like this well enough to catch that this is both a respite and an imminent escalation, and so his stance doesn't falter even an ilm when Tseng moves away from him — aware that this may well be a test in itself, to hold position whether he's being given the attentions of the flogger or not.]
But in lieu of buying you that drink. Mayhaps I might offer another favor? You're looking a bit tight in the smalls, and I wonder if you'd favor the chance to relieve it.
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Something like that.
[ it doesn't take long for him to find what he's looking for. the toy he settles on is reasonably-sized, made of a lovely dark purple silicone with a sturdy suction cup at the bottom—perfect for attaching to the flagstones between thancred's knees. tseng brings the toy and a nearby bottle of lube back with him when he approaches thancred once more, considering the offer as he kneels to the ground. ]
I don't see why not, [ he says, as he snaps the bottle of lube open and uses it to liberally coat his fingers. ] I have a few ideas still, but afterwards, we'll see if you can't get me off before you get yourself off.
[ he shifts a little closer and brings his hand up between thancred's thighs, finding his entrance and rubbing a slow circle around it to warm the lube before he slips one finger easily inside. thancred is tight, which is no real surprise to tseng—he doesn't seem like the type who puts himself in this position all too often. ]
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It's been a while since he's received; too often, the combination of his own natural gregariousness and his instinct to deprioritize his own satisfaction lends itself to taking charge of the act of penetration, when the opportunity arises. The prospect of having it now doesn't bother him any, however. Quite the contrary, in fact. It's been so long since he's felt the unique pleasure of stimulation from the inside.
What he's less accustomed to, however, is having the benefit of someone else's consideration in preparing him. That, the brush of Tseng's finger into the cleft of his arse, nearly has him break position — if only for a fraction of an instant before he manages to catch and right himself. A breathy wait almost makes it off his tongue, but his own reevaluation comes rapidly. He doesn't want Tseng to stop, and he's not hit his limit. It's just — unexpected, the care in the midst of it all.]
I can handle that, if you'd rather not.
[And maybe it's the fact that his guard has already been deliberately lowered, but there's a touch of vulnerability that clings to the latter half of his offer. He expects so little from his partners, never asking for their care or consideration — happy to give, ever inviting them to take. Even a sensible dom is still within their rights to be perfunctory, the exchanges transactional. Tseng's under no obligation to do himself what he could just as easily have his mark accomplish for him.
He pauses, swallows, and then offers with halfhearted humor: ]
Since I've not bought you a drink yet. And all.
[There's an ask there, unspoken but lingering, and so what if he wants to hear, just for a moment, that prepping him is something that Tseng wants? The man did instruct him to be genuine in what he's feeling. Surely that applies for this, as much as anything else.]
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And undo all my hard work getting you into that position?
[ no, thank you. and anyway, while tseng is very much the type to do things out of obligation under the right circumstances and with the right people, this isn't one of them. he pinches almost chidingly at one of thancred's red, sensitive nipples, then clarifies, ] If I didn't want to, I would have made you do it.
[ and his expectation, which goes unsaid, is that if thancred himself doesn't want tseng to prep him he's going to have to say as much. after all, tseng's only ask was that thancred be honest, both about his pleasure and about his limits. he adds a second finger, but moves slowly, curling them lightly forward and then spreading just slightly as he begins to work thancred open around the intrusion in increments; tseng's palm presses just below thancred's balls, applying steady pressure to his prostate from without, and he can feel each twitch and throb of thancred's cock where it rests against his forearm. satisfying. ]
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[Hells, that look that Tseng throws him. It's as good as one of Y'shtola's best, all thousand of those unspoken words tailored toward the single unmistakable impression that he shouldn't have had to convey any of them to begin with. The familiarity unwinds him enough to shiver pleasantly as Tseng's finger continues to penetrate him, eyes half-lidded as the distant memory of how it feels to be touched like this comes flooding back into the immediate and familiar.]
Can't help that I've always been the can-do sort.
[Tseng has sinfully deft hands. A little too deliberate, maybe, for the light touch of a pickpocket, but certainly confident in how to stimulate a body to feel far, far better than it deserves to. He groans again, keeping his shoulders back and his arms firm, but with slight movements of his hips that aim to aid in Tseng's efforts to loosen him up.
Without really meaning to, an idle thought spills from his lips.]
What is it you like? The...hhh, the particulars, that is. What appeals most about all this, to you?
[It's neither self-conscious nor self-deprecating. Quite the contrary, it seems altogether honest of him: a genuine attempt to get to know his very satisfactory bedmate better.]
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[ maybe it's the reassurance from tseng that has thancred's body relaxing fractionally around his fingers, or maybe some other train of thought entirely. at any rate tseng is glad for it, for how it becomes incrementally easier to press his finger inside thancred, meeting the shallow rocks of his hips with steady, purposeful strokes. a good sign that he's seeking more, however limited he may be in his range of motion. as a reward, tseng curls his finger forward just right to press a hair's breadth to the side of the smooth shape of thancred's prostate.
then he withdraws his finger, and when it returns there are two. once again, tseng focuses on thancred's entrance, now stretched around the girth of twice as many digits as tseng begins to work him open. ]
About fingering you? [ tseng asks. ] Or about this kind of play in general?
[ there's some overlap in the answers, of course, but it's better to be specific. once he's gotten his answer, tseng says, ]
It excites me to be in control, and to know that I'm only in control so long as my partner allows me to be. I also enjoy the process of exploring someone's body and learning what brings them pleasure, what makes them wet or hard or surprises them with how good it feels. [ his fingers slip a little deeper, spreading and then curling forward so he can stroke on both sides of thancred's prostate again. ] And of course I enjoy watching my partners come. Which is why I like making them do it as many times as they can stand. Does that answer your question?
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Mmh...I'd love to hear your notes. See how they compare to my own.
[Whether he means his own understanding of himself, or the similar list of observations he's mentally keeping about Tseng remains unclear, and really anyone's guess. But his eyes are glazing over a little as Tseng's fingers work deeper, and when they begin framing his prostate to tease it, he trembles visibly before dropping his chin to his chest, almost wavering in his stance from how good it feels.
There's a growing spot of wet on the towel beneath his knees from how the tip of his cock is leaking, droplets shaking loose and falling as the cadence of his hips jostles them free to land on the terrycloth below. The prospect of orgasm is abruptly becoming an imminent one, and with any luck, a soon-to-be-realized one; as many times as they can stand is a delicious sort of promise, and he's aware of his own relatively short refractory period, which Tseng himself will soon discover if he keeps his attentions up.]
Does — hah — does "hold nothing back" mean I needn't, nnh, ask your permission to spill? Best — ah, best tell me s-soon or — you won't have a say —
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[ although it's less likely that tseng will be as forthcoming with confirmations re: the observations he's sure thancred is making about him, he's more than happy to compare notes when it comes to kink. from what he's gathered, thancred has at least some hands-on experience with the topic, but perhaps not the same framework for it as was imparted onto tseng—and if he's curious, well, tseng teaches at the university for a reason.
but none of that is going to happen now, as an interruption to much more pleasurable pursuits. for a moment tseng really does consider the question, his fingers still moving steadily inside thancred, stretching him in gentle increments—and then, when every bit of thancred's body language suggests that he's on the verge of climax, tseng hums and says, ]
I'll allow it,
[ and strokes his two fingers directly over thancred's prostate in a smooth, steady motion, almost coaxing him into the orgasm that's already threatening to overtake him. ]
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I'll allow it. It's pleasant to hear, and moreso to play off of. Half the fun of rules and requirements is figuring out which ones can be tested and which show off the best of the person enforcing them.
But he was told not to hold back, and so with his last rational thought before orgasm takes him, Thancred does his best to loose the noises from his own throat so they can spill as easily as the spend does from his more-than-ready cock. Gods, but it's been a long time since he's gotten off from this type of stimulation rather than by attention to his member, and it's rare and it's deep and it's good, good enough that his eyes half-close and there's something almost canine in the way he releases his moans, loose and unfettered and unthinking.
Praise the Twelve for the towel between his knees, though his climax hits hard enough that some of the ropes of his spend miss the towel and hit the floor beyond. No telling if Tseng will make for a tough taskmaster and demand he clean up his mess. He's too far out of his mind with satisfaction to consider it right now, regardless.]