ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴍᴏᴅs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goldmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
TDM 011
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
We are thrilled to announce that the Golden Peacock will be embracing autumn with a special outing. Current and new guests are invited to join us for a refreshing outdoor experience where participants can unplug, unwind, and connect with nature. During this time, all Watches will be disabled to the most basic functions (texting, calls, checking chip account) in order to encourage guests to disconnect.
Please look forward to two weeks of finding yourself amongst the trees. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a fan-CAMP-stic time. 】
CAMPING
GETTING OFF THE GRID
As the resort moves into what it claims is autumn, the days grow shorter. The projected sun in the Vale sets in the afternoon, after which a faint chill falls. Then there’s the most excessive transformation of all – a portion of the Vale has transformed into a campground complete with a scenic lake, seemingly overnight. Statues nearby have been dressed up with flannel jackets and suspenders. Folksy banjo fills the air without any discernible source.
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
HOME ON THE RANGE
Welcome to the Peacock Campgrounds! Nicknamed the Stomping Grounds by long-standing guests. Rustic and right off a sparkling lake, guests will find everything they need to live in the wilderness. Staff have expertly set up fire pits, benches, hammocks, and a wooden shed to act as a tool depository. There's even an outhouse, which is a real novelty to many of the long-standing guests. Do they just... squat over that hole and do their business? How wild!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
ACTIVITIES
TWO WEEKS OF ROUGHING IT
Camping can't be all about survival. Where's the fun in that? Before 'leaving', the staff arrange activities and events for guests to enjoy. A wooden bulletin board outlines times for group hikes, camping experiences, and wilderness delights. Adirondack chairs line the edge of the lake and a few tire swings hang over the water, tied to strong tree branches. For the first week and a half the weather is pleasant and sunny. Perfect for camping.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
HOWLING
CALL OF THE WILD
Temperatures drop drastically at night as the camping excursion nears its end. Nights become so chilly that morning dew frosts over, crunching beneath guest feet. Every day the light and its warmth set a little bit earlier. Staff remain elusive and do not provide warmer blankets or clothes for guests, leaving them to cuddle for warmth or find other ways to sleep comfortably during nightly cold snaps.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: altered states; eyes (descriptions only, incl. eye injury); exhibitionism; hunting (incl. hunting fantasy creatures); orgies; public sex; survival; temperature play; tentacles; transformation; violence
▶ 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 September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ 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.
▶ 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!
▶ 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.
▶ 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 September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ 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.
▶ 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!
▶ 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.
no subject
“Phai—”
Which in turn causes dread to seep into Baizhu’s gut as he turns toward the wall where Phainon’s facing, his mouth hanging open in a soundless cry as his eyes likewise meet with the pitch-dark gaze of some monstrous being…
The light of his Dendro is immediately snuffed out, plunging them both into deeper darkness still.
no subject
Phainon is no stranger to the existential dread, the formless fear that sinks into his marrow. This spirals slowly into the terror that must fight or flee, and still his body refuses the call.
What is it? What does it want? If they don’t get away, they will surely be devoured-
He has to get him out of here!
A dim spark ignites, a soft, golden glow stealing into his eyes, as his unseen battle with himself rages. The pale blue glow all around the cave marks all the physical manifestations of his fear, every bump on his skin, every bead of cold sweat, the quickening of his breath. Phainon’s fingertips tremble; still, he cannot move.
no subject
But…
The glow at the edges of his vision snaps him out of his daze, and his Vision glows as the mushrooms they’d been observing earlier immediately swell, before bursting in a glittering blue burst of spores dusting their bodies and irritating the massive eye, which promptly shuts in response—
no subject
Spores rain down around them, their persistent glow like snowflakes falling through a moonbeam, impossibly beautiful despite the overwhelming danger echoed by the pounding in his chest.
To urge him on ahead, Baizhu is given a shove before he sets off at a run. If the other man stumbles, if he seems about to fall behind, then he’ll he intercepted by Phainon’s shoulder and pulled up against his body, carried over a shoulder.
If they have time for apologies, he’ll have them. Later.
no subject
He barely even notices the spores, as he’s too busy struggling to keep up—eventually allowing himself to get hoisted over that muscular shoulder he’d been cheerfully admiring only moments before until they finally escape the darkness of that cave, his Vision’s glow fading at last, the glitter of spores dissipating behind them.
Their bodies are still streaked with sweeps of color from their adventure, innocently catching the artificial sunlight as Baizhu finally exhales, and manages a feeble—
“Are you all right?”
no subject
Phainon's mind struggles with what he's just seen. Rather than continue to gnaw on an unsolvable puzzle, he focuses on the things he can do anything about. Coincidentally, it means his own voice - bold, a little shaken - speaks the same question in time with Baizhu's feeble:
"Are you all right?"
He sighs, taking this moment to cast back a glance at the cave before he hazards taking a knee, leaning Baizhu against that bent leg and his shoulder, his arm heavy around the doctor's more slender frame.
"I'm fine."
Even if this provides him with a sliver of comfort, its purpose is a little more self-evident: it's in case he needs to grab him and run again, keeping one eye trained on the cave mouth as he spares them a moment to regroup. "...You saw it, didn't you? It almost looked like-"
no subject
He can feel his stomach lurching at the memory, his arms closed loosely about Phainon’s shoulders even if he should have taken the opportunity to pull away.
Somehow in this moment he’s afraid to be alone, even if he can only think of Changsheng slumbering away in the more opulent part of the campgrounds the staff had prepared for them. He can feel aching emptiness on his shoulders, and shudders.
But Phainon has it worse, he thinks, as he presses a hand to the man’s cheek. His palm and all the rest of him are smeared with spores still glittering faintly in the light of day, and he knows that they’ll need to take care of that soon, but for now…
He takes a deep breath, peers into those wide blue eyes with the strange sigils within—
“What did you see?”
no subject
An eye. Impossibly large, growing out of the very earth. And it's gaze...
A violent urge rises in him, a smoldering thought whispering that it's too dangerous. What if it ensnares someone else, someone who won't be as lucky as they were?
Baizhu's palm steers his attention away; the cool of his touch brings down the temperature of the Destruction simmering in his veins. In truth, Phainon is a little taken aback, when the gesture seems so intimate, so tender. His throat convulses through a swallow.
"Nothing. I saw... nothing." It was a feeling, old and familiar, the absolute desolation at the end of everything, and the rage, the all-consuming fury that threatened to fill the vacant void, anything to propel him onward. It was the same... again, and again.
And again, in Nikador's trial. "You?"
no subject
His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he recalls that awful feeling as he stared into the depths of that abyssal gaze.
Cracking open his eyes, he adds, “Or perhaps it was death. I can’t be certain.”
It’s the kind of thing he might joke about, if he were in a joking mood. But all this does is bring to mind other terrors, from months and months ago. He’d thought they would all be confined to those hidden corridors the staff use, but it appears that this new cave might be in a similar vein.
Perhaps even literally.
But it seems that whatever he recalls pales in comparison to what Phainon must be feeling, what Baizhu can sense from the little tells from his body language, the faint glow of gold he’d seen in the dark.
“Phainon…”
no subject
Death would have been a kindness, he thinks. Eternity... now that's warmer. He was afraid. Desperately. Like forever was spread out before him and he would be rooted there, unmoving, to bear the crushing weight of loneliness. Was it... different, then, for Baizhu? Did it feel that way because of-
The great, imposing image of Kephale, the Dawn Device shining on their back, appears when he closes his eyes. Baizhu says his name, and he opens them.
"I was trying to think of a way to prevent anyone from stumbling on..." he shakes his head, "That thing.
"Forgive me, but I must cut our search short."
What can he do, without a weapon? Plenty. But he doesn't want to risk Baizhu's safety more than he already has, and... admittedly, Phainon thinks he might need backup for this. And he has a pretty good idea of who will be up for the challenge - not to mention, uniquely suited to a being that evokes such primal terror.
no subject
They’d both just gone through quite a terrifying ordeal, and already Phainon’s thinking of dealing with that creature. And Baizhu…he can’t help but recall the heartbeats in the dark, the way the staff had fallen ill…
His other hand squeezes at Phainon’s shoulder.
“You should take care of yourself first.”
Much as he agrees that they need to at least put up a sign warning others from entering, well, he can feel an unnatural warmth permeating his skin, the blue dusting of spores scattered all over his clothing (for he’d been permitted to keep his usual attire, impractical as it is), smeared over his exposed arms and midriff, and he knows their escape hadn’t come without a cost.
How to explain this to a poor, traumatized newcomer…
“As a matter of fact, we’d best return to our tents before the urge takes us.”
no subject
His eyes drop to the streaks of blue shimmering on the other man’s skin.
And catches himself staring at his exposed midriff, where the line of his toned belly would eventually point to his navel, and yanks his eyes back up. Is he warm? Always. Is he warmer now? Yes, and he's just now realizing what Baizhu had meant, “Come on,” he deadpans. “Is nothing safe?”
He pulls him up with him as he climbs to his feet. That his hands seem reluctant to part from his waist has yet to catch up with the rest of him.
“If I hadn’t insisted on going further, this wouldn’t have happened,” he says regretfully, “If we can find water, we might still spare ourselves some dignity. Allow me to escort you back, we'll see if we can't wash this off somewhere along the way.”
no subject
It occurs to him that he should’ve put up a shield to keep out the spores earlier on, but in the spur of the moment, well…
“That won’t be necessary.”
Honestly, it’s cute of Phainon to think doing all that is going to help. There’s a moment’s hesitation as he takes in Phainon’s words, which only brings to light a sinking feeling he’d had about the man, before he manages a carefree smile and reaches up to pat Phainon on the cheek, because at this point he’ll take any excuse to keep touching him.
“I’m used to it by now, though I imagine you’d like to go and find yourself a lover before you fully succumb.”
no subject
His hands paint him in warmth and pleasure, and the fact he’s already tempted by it is a warning that Baizhu has not been exaggerating about the urgency of retreating to their tents.
Baizhu puts on a smile, pats his cheek, and he’s reminded of the way the elders of his tiny hometown would reassure the youngest, gentling bad news. Is that what he’s doing, he wonders.
In any case, his answer dies with an aborted noise in his throat, eyes closing briefly around the word: lover.
Not an encouraging sign.
“Leaving you like this isn’t safe,” he asserts, conviction replacing doubt. “I don’t like leaving that cave open like this, either, but I don’t think we have much of a choice.”
Phainon’s hand has meandered from the taut plane of Baizhu’s belly to the small of his back, but he doesn’t catch himself until he’s started to press the other man flush with his hips, and his hand lifts away. It’s not repulsion, but consideration, because he doesn’t back away.
This works fast; did he breathe it in, perhaps? There’s no way he can ask for that warrior’s help in dealing with that eye; other than his reluctance to put the demigod of Strife to the test with inhibitions erased by spores, he doesn’t relish the idea of behaving in an untoward fashion in his presence a second time this week.
“I may have burned up too much time here already,” he swallows, “Which way is your tent?”
no subject
It’s a noncommittal noise as Baizhu inwardly sighs, because he’d seen the signs of it since the moment they’d started on this adventure.
Phainon is a man who puts others above himself.
And while Baizhu can relate, it’s…
Perhaps it’s best not to leave him alone.
Especially when he can feel the heat radiating off of the other’s body—and even when Phainon pulls his hand away Baizhu remains close, keeping his hands on him if only to remind him that he’s here, and that he will grab him if he tries to do anything foolish.
As to whether or not he can actually stop Phainon from doing anything foolish, well…
Baizhu smiles, more than a little charmed, just a little exasperated, but ultimately he decides to counter that question with one of his own:
“Would you please kiss me?”
not here even a week and there's already a phainon intervention squad forming
Anyone might blunder into that cave - looking for food to forage or just out of curiosity - and the two of them were very lucky to escape. Was that Baizhu's power? He suspects so, which makes it all the more important that the eye be dealt with, or the cave closed off somehow.
It won't be safe for Baizhu if he lets him make his way back alone. Phainon's made the mistake of personally testing foraged fruit and, when there were no ill effects, went back for more to quell his hunger pangs and had been lucky enough to land in the company of people he trusted. If the effects of these spores are anything like the berries he ate, he can't be sure Baizhu will be as fortunate.
And he can't do both of these at the same time. On top of that, time itself is in short supply. He can feel the spiral just starting, the way his attention keeps getting pulled into orbit around Baizhu, the warmth in his blood, different from Destruction's simmer. The way he's dragged back to Baizhu's eyes, his mouth, like iron shavings chase a magnet's pole.
His gaze still lingers on the curve of Baizhu's mouth. Phainon shakes his head in silent refusal, his fingers hovering over his back. They curl into a fist. Lowering it to his own side, he steadies himself with a breath. If it is true what they say, that the reason these things happen is because the staff here are manufacturing reasons for them to fall into one another's arms, to play their game... that kind of manipulation rankles him. How is it any different than--?
And yet, he knows this feeling hasn't been planted in him. He knows what he likes - Baizhu's intelligent and kind, and may not have the rugged, masculine figure that he's obsessed with, but he has the willowy build that appeals in another way. Baizhu wants, too, which makes this... difficult.
Just as he thinks he has this under control, the spiral begins, tipping the balance steeply towards desire. His right hand comes up under Baizhu's jaw, a callused thumb tracing over the point of his chin before he gently takes it into hand, fingers along the sharp edge on one side, his thumb on the other.
To his mouth, Phainon presses a kiss, gentle tipping towards firm, and a second, catching his lower lip between his before he pulls back. As he expected, that does nothing for the fire kindled in that cave. If anything, it's only fed the flames with fuel and oxygen.
"Any more than this," he says quietly, "I might not stop. And that thing," his eyes, behind his lowered eyelids, cut away towards the cave entrance, "Is still in there."
the sad part is they need more reinforcements
He reaches up to trace a finger over Phainon’s lips with all the amused resignation of a man used to handling his type—indeed, in some ways Baizhu can’t help but think of how similar they really are, how they keep thinking of others to the detriment of themselves.
But he’s…learning.
And he takes a deep breath. The foliage surrounding the cave comes alive—grasses growing taller, trees huddling closer, moss thickening, vines drooping, lush growth spilling over the cave mouth in a thick curtain, hiding it from view. Admittedly, this isn’t the most effective solution—there’s no telling if someone else might stumble upon that creature via some hidden side tunnel they couldn’t see. For now, though, it will have to do.
But even then Baizhu knows that that won’t allay Phainon’s concerns forever.
“No one will approach it while we’re here,” he points out, leaning closer for another kiss. “So you are free to indulge as you please. I wouldn’t stop you for the world.”
33,550,336 more should about do it
"Out here?" he asks, pulling him in with an arm looped around his lower back, pausing to stamp a kiss - again, brief - to his lips, the other is slower, trailing behind the words he breathes into his mouth, "What do you take me for?"
This... will be the second time he's been in a compromising situation outdoors. He'd rather not speculate on what this says about him and any latent exhibitionist habits. Not right now, anyway.
no subject
This is a dangerous, dangerous man to be toying with…
“I’m afraid I won’t last the journey to my tent, and you…”
Phainon’s already calming down, already accepting his fate, in a way, as Baizhu does as well, for normally he wouldn’t dare to fool around where anyone could catch him—not that it’s ever stopped him from taking his pleasures in the forest before.
They’ll both just have to learn to be a little more shameless about it.
“…You’re far too tempting to refuse.”
Baizhu goes from caressing Phainon’s cheeks to entwining arms about his neck instead, pulling him into a much more thorough, searching kiss, as though he means to drink in whatever suspicious treat Phainon had foraged in the wild.
no subject
For someone who has long denied himself more hedonistic experiences - first to train, to mold himself into the hero he needed when he was still young, and then into the Deliverer others needed him to be, and then in the relentless pursuit of his duty to deliverance - his impulse control is seriously lacking. (No wonder he gets along with a certain Trailblazer.)
There's a fire in his veins, different from the searing heat with which he had been more recently familiar. Baizhu admits he might not make it as far as his tent, while Phainon is already crowding his back against the trunk of a tree, his own arm shielding the bare section of his back from the rough skin of its bark. When the doctor's arms pull him down into a kiss deeper and more thorough than the first few, the swordsman's weight presses him back against the sturdy trunk, permissively letting him lick his way into Phainon's mouth.
He draws back slowly, his broad chest rising and falling through the hungry breaths that follow, until he dives back in for another, pressing past his soft lips to pet against the velvet of the other man's tongue.
no subject
And yet, more irresistible still is the broad expanse of chest now deliciously within reach. Baizhu wastes no time in splaying fingers across pectorals, palms searching for a heartbeat, for the source of warmth common to all men—or at least the ordinary kind.
He has no reason to suspect that Phainon is anything but as his tongue curls against Phainon’s in turn, whispers of something earthy and bitter passing between them. One hand makes its way to the fascinating sun-disc splayed across Phainon’s neck, as though the man had been blessed by the Pyro Archon herself, and he can’t help tracing its contours, the way the sun’s rays dance across firm muscle, brushing aside traces of glittering pollen to reveal more gold.
“Beautiful,” he can’t help but half-chuckle, half-murmur in a euphoric daze the moment their lips part and permit him a quick gasp of much-needed air. That seems about as good a start as any.
no subject
That seems to give him an idea, because no sooner than the herbalist has spoken, Phainon is ducking in to catch his neck with his mouth, the wet shape of it seeking to kiss up a bruise just beneath Baizhu's ear. The path he paints down his neck is hot and damp, teeth finding the meat between the slope of his neck and his slender shoulder and pressing, as though testing its give (and the man's own responsiveness).
The pollen tastes earthy on Baizhu's skin, and Phainon's fingers crave to feel the man's breath hitch like that again, to feel him arch and move with him as their spiraling descent into euphoria begins. They dip into the inside of Baizhu's top from where it opens at his midriff, his weathered palm pushing up on a pass over one side of his chest, then back down again as his fingertips dig into the meat of his pectoral, rubbing the heel of his palm over his unseen nipple. The material of his top gathers against the seam of his wrist, and under the fabric his thumb pinches the stiffening bud of his nipple against the side of his palm as he backs his face away enough to look at him.
"Come here," he sighs, catching his chin with the other hand, pulling him to meet his mouth. It doesn't linger there; his fingers delve into his green hair, cradling the bend of his nape while he licks into his mouth, exhaling in satisfaction against his cheek. "Tell me," is whispered between kisses, "What you want."
no subject
But it isn’t just heat, he’s beginning to find, as the warm roughness of Phainon’s hand also appears to seek out his own human heartbeat, his fingers digging into Phainon’s shoulder with the scrape of that nipple—Phainon feels like he’s everywhere at once, like rays of sunlight beaming down on him, warm and smiling and full of gentle promise.
Except there’s that sense of something more simmering just below the surface. Baizhu feels his curiosity amplified still further by the effects of those spores, bright and innocuous as they are, especially with the way Phainon’s smearing it all over his body like this.
With a sigh, he leans his head against that anchoring touch, but the gaze he gives Phainon isn’t so much one of tenderness as it is…hungry. As though he’s sizing him up for a nice meal.
“You,” he murmurs, deliberately playing coy as he takes advantage of Phainon’s relative nakedness to place both hands over his chest, thumbs drawing faint glittering circles around aureolae without directly touching anywhere particularly sensitive, and all around them the forest seems to shiver, shrubs and bushes swaying, branches reaching out, wildflowers bending their heads toward the “sun.” Then, small thin tendrils crawl toward Phainon’s legs, climbing up his ankles, testing his strength—or rather his ability to accept something as absurd as this.
Not even the powers of Dendro with the backing of the entirety of the Vale could probably stop this man from breaking free of his bonds once he puts his mind to it, but how willing is he to be embraced by the forest? To, perhaps, be trussed up like the delectable feast that he is?
“Would you be a good boy and give yourself to me?”
no subject
You is so perfectly peeled from the pages of a lofty and romantic story that Phainon feels the tips of his ears burn enough to know they - and likely the bridge of his nose - have gone pink. He gives a toss of his head, scattering the damp and dry segments of his pale fringe across his brow as he answers with the challenging sickle of his smile.
Even if the forest slowly, sinuously seeks to bind him, their myriad tendrils tangling into ropes of green, climbing and looping up the bare, muscular columns of his calves, his thighs, he stands firm. He hears it, the sussurant slither of the forest bending to Baizhu's will, and now that he knows the trick, he doesn't waste time on surprise.
Will he be a good boy.
His shoulders swing, testing the resistance of the new growth now beginning to climb his biceps and chest.
"Heh," he drops his chin, looking up through his lashes at him, "Is this the way you think I want it?" Another jerk of his body, just slightly, when the vines seek to pull him down, refusing to take a knee. With unsteady movements, fighting the bonds that climb his body, Phainon drags his hands down Baizu's body, pushing into his waistband, palming the hot shape of his arousal, skin on skin.
The weathered palm of a swordsman wraps around his heated shaft, indulging him in a slow squeeze, rolling his wrist as it pulls the skin taut from his tip, "You'd be wrong. Shall I give you a hint?"
He has his doubts. But oh, wouldn't it be fun if they had to fight for submission? Long enough to enflame him, until he has Baizhu shaking himself apart.
no subject
But when Phainon thrusts that deliciously callused, unbearably warm hand down his pants he can’t help but laugh, a little incredulous and a little turned on despite himself.
“What—What sort of…mmm…”
Would he really need a hint? It’s clear that Phainon wants a fight, and he somehow deems Baizhu of all people capable of giving that to him. As though command of the forest would be enough to bring him to his knees when even his vines’ more protracted attempts to pin the man down seem to barely do more than tickle him slightly.
He swallows despite himself—there are far too many unfairly strong men here in the Golden Peacock, and Phainon easily counts among the strongest of them.
So he brings a hand to Phainon’s chest, finally brushing a thumb across a nipple, wondering if it might be as sensitive as it is on most others he’s met on the resort—especially that particular strain of strong, muscled men who show off their breasts a little too freely.
So, what then? Baizhu knows he’s running out of time. He’s weak and sensitive enough on a normal day and now they’re outdoors, bespelled by mushrooms, and he’s truggling with the friction of tree bark on one side and a wall of muscle like exquisitely hewn marble on the other, with the dizzying heat and musk that’s beginning to weaken his resolve if not his control over the situation.
If he ever had any to begin with—
It doesn’t even occur to him to use aphrodisiacs or paralytics or other fascinating plant-based concoctions on Phainon to weaken the man, not when he’s being so distractingly, breathtakingly bratty and Baizhu has to cling to his overly large chest for dear life, his legs already on the verge of giving way under him the longer Phainon persists.
Maybe he can appeal to practicality?
“I—I might finish before you even start…”
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)