[ Olivine is...beautiful. It strikes Basch more in the way he carries himself. Someone confident and at ease. Balthier has that, when he's not showing off. But Olivine is softer, inviting. It makes him easy to look at, easy to talk to. ]
I'd meant to get new clothing after this. Perhaps after, one of the fireplaces they have set up across the building?
[ They were private, cozy, not so unsettling for him as some of the more futuristic materials and styles. ]
[soft, certainly... but if Olivine knew he was seen as confident, he would probably laugh at his own expense. sure, he's come leaps and bounds from where he was, but he's still a person who masks his pain behind helping others.
of course, he'd also be relieved to be someone Basch feels some sense of calm with.]
That sounds like a wonderful plan. I could use something a little less... awkward to wear, myself. [he smiles broadly then, at the thought of the fireplaces.] And if we're lucky, perhaps they'll have some cocoa to enjoy while we sit. It was always one of my favourite things about the holidays, spending time around the fires, drinking sweet drinks and watching the children open gifts.
[he is just too soft, sometimes. but now he can step away from the mirror, its terrible omens all but forgotten, and stand proudly with his new conversation partner.]
[ Was knowing who one was and how to engage with others not confidence? Privacy had nothing to do with it in Basch's eyes.
and Olivine absolutely glows as he talks about fireplaces and holidays. ]
We shall have to hope there are no children here, but the comfort of a sweet drink and a fire are the most agreeable suggestions I've heard today.
[ No matter he'll abstain from something as indulgent as cocoa, but a fire...that he'll allow.
Basch nods, and, retrieving the terrible shirts and undergarments they'd been given, does his best not to appear as flustered as he feels walking to the shops like this. It's...easier that so many are in similar situations, or wearing things that are much more revealing.
They split up to find clothes, and it takes him some time to find anything...plain. But he does, and that is a victory. He slips into a dressing room, uneasy at the large holes, and does his best to change quickly. He's about to step out and pay when there's an odd buzzing sensation, not unlike reaching into the Mist, and a flash across his vision. When it clears, he's red near to his navel, which is now exposed. His top, scarred and muscled and gleaming with small golden hairs, bears only a harness of dark leather and metal, obviously meant to tantalize. The bottom is worse, a strappy thing that covers his manhood and little else, his ass bare save a strap down the middle and two garters encircling his massive thighs, connecting to the strap at his waist.
He felt less exposed in the baths.
Neither set of actual clothing are anywhere to be found, which leaves him in the predicament that he'd have to leave like this to solve the problem. ]
Olivine?
[ He calls, a little hoarse. Maybe he can get the other man to hand him...literally anything to get out of this stall and this store. ]
Haha, certainly not! Sorry, I just got caught up in memory.
[His horror when he realises how young people can be... will be its own thing. Until then, he walks with Basch, just piping up whenever he thinks of something or the other man speaks in turn. After all, he figures that keeping the man's attention on something other than the plainly awkward shirts they have to wear should be... at least a little helpful.
He's almost reluctant to leave Basch on his own to find clothes, but of course that's silly. The man can clearly handle himself, and... well, they're both looking for very different things. Olivine can already feel himself getting antsy with his gemstone brushing his shirt, after all.
Finding something that looks good together is actually his difficulty, though Olivine isn't so picky as to struggle too much. He has a few vouchers and such, so it's easy to pick up a few options (that will inevitably be too tight in the chest, because honestly how is he built this way) and had toward the changing rooms with.
... hearing his name is a little surprising.]
Is everything alright, Basch?
[It takes a moment to find the right stall, and he waits for an answer even after, before he'll go to slip inside at all. Privacy and all, even in the face of those holes. He's curious, but the blond's comfort comes first.]
[ it was not alright but he wasn’t going to share that. He’s trying to avoid his own reflection but the mirrors on three sides of the room make that exceedingly difficult. ]
I, ah, could you toss me and large shirt and trousers? There was an issue with these.
[Basch... somehow, that sounds even more concerning. Probably because he should have clothes in there, shouldn't he?]
... did something happen to the other clothes? [was it to do with the holes?] Ah—sorry, I'll see what I can find. I have some shirts you can try, but I don't think the trousers would fit you.
[they're both remarkably built, but Olivine's body slims down around the waist. In any case, he starts by at least holding out one of the shirts, simple but... definitely short. It won't cover Olivine's stomach, and that's kind of the point.]
He sees the shirt enter the stall, grasps at it long enough to process that it's cropped, but the moment it leaves Olivine's hands, it simply disappears.
He makes a strangled, defeated noise. Is this this place's commentary that he hasn't selected acceptable clothing? ]
Would you...find an attendant?
[ Olivine doesn't get a chance, though, because a length of leather loops around his neck, snapping shut as the lead pulls him into the stall, the handle sliding into Basch's hand. There is absolutely nowhere to hide, and his eyes are wide, equal parts embarrassed out of his mind and staring at what Olivine has dressed himself in.
That's before he realizes that he's holding a lead now attached to the other man's neck. ]
I --
[ He's so red. ]
Is there someone who can assist us? [ he calls, hoarse. He'd rather one person see them than...walk out like this. ]
[It's concerning, of course. The defeated noise says something about it, and his brows furrow lightly at his distress.]
Right, I'll—
[He's cut off with an undignified yelp as a collar wraps itself around his throat, looking for someone nearby in the instant before the leash itself just pulls him into the changing room. It's not the leash or the fact that it's in Basch's hand that catches his attention, but the outfit he's been unfortunately stuffed into.
Unfortunate for Basch, that is; Olivine's eyes drift over him as politely as they can, and it takes a moment of control to prevent himself from saying anything about how he looks (which is fantastic, honestly). He himself is dressed in another of those cropped shirts, the muscle of his abs on display as much as the pretty green gem attached to his navel. His pants are maybe a little tight too, certainly fitted nicely.]
I... don't think there was anyone around... [Olivine is apologetic, brows furrowing further. He's ignoring his own flushed cheeks now.] We may need to grab something on the way out for you. Ah—not that this looks bad on you, but I assume something made it change.
[There is no doubt in his mind that someone like Basch didn't choose something like this, then got it all the way on before realising.]
[ He squirms as Olivine looks him over, but the face doesn't change from sympathetic, except the red in his cheeks. Basch is doing alright, until Olivine all but compliments him.
He closes his eyes, nodding. Something on the way out. Just...get back to their rooms. ]
Let's get this off of you first. [ He steps closer, body flushed, trying not to think about the fact that their stomachs could easily brush like this. But his fingers scrabble around it, and there is no clasp. What's more, when he tries to hand the lead to Olivine, it will not release his hand. ]
It...seems we have to keep this for now too. Is that alright? [ As if he could do anything if it wasn't.
On Olivine's confirmation -- with his knees nearly jelly -- they emerge from the booth. No one is around the immediate vicinity, and he'll pull on a pair of pants and boots that thankfully stay put. It's...awkward, having to hold Olivine close on the lead. And worse, something about the sight of it threatens to excite him.
Curse this entire place.
And, unable to face the cashier, he slides a mask off a display. At check-out, the clerk apologizes, confirming what he feared. The rogue item needs its purpose met to release, otherwise it could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days before it does so on its own. ]
I...suppose we should take care of this then [ Basch murmurs as they walk out, trying to keep the lead comfortably between them so they can walk with ease. ]
[Basch steps closer and this time, Olivine has to pause and take in a breath. he's doing better than the blond, sure, but that doesn't mean everything is just perfect. the collar feels comfortable around his neck, after all, and his eyes close briefly at the scrabble of fingers, careful but not terribly delicate.
he only just manages to hide his shiver when they reach the realisation that the leash just... won't let him give it away.]
It's alright. I... don't dislike the feeling that much. If it would help, I can walk first so you don't have to worry about being so exposed.
[either way, they make it out to the cashier, and Olivine murmurs a soft thanks to them for the confirmation. at least they're done here, and the leash itself will likely let Basch go if he does seem completely unwilling (which probably says something that it's still holding on tight).]
Right... should we go to the rooms? I... don't mind somewhere else, but those would be the most private, of course. [he's finding it a little harder to keep Basch's own intricacies in mind when having a leash makes him want, makes him think about what it would feel like if he was a little less gentle, if he pulled just so.]
[ It...occurred to him too. That the leash would let go if they weren't both on some level wanting this. It flusters him so badly that he can't meet Olivine's eye.
Olivine, who is being so sweet about this. Interested even. That was right -- he liked this sort of thing. Which Basch admires, really. It's just...
The emotions make his stomach twist, barely able to even name them. ]
I -- yes. That seems reasonable.
[ Reasonable. None of this is reasonable. He adjusts the mask on his face with his free hand. It's not like his hair and build aren't recognizable, but it gives him some comfort to have his face hidden.
The hall becomes crowded at a junction, and he steps left to avoid it, Olivine right, causing the rope to lead to tug tighter. His head snaps up, immediately wanting to check on the other, only to be met with at least four or five gazes on them. Even in passing they are approving, hungry, one disgusted.
A strange heat rolls through him, and the urge to stand taller, to tug the lead more intentionally whispers in his mind. ]
Are you alright? [ he asks instead, closing the space between them so the lead goes slack. This time his eyes wander more slowly across Olivine. He is -- beautiful, and confident. Basch would never have the comfort with himself to wear something like that. ]
[for a moment, Olivine can only smile, reaching to take Basch's free hand in his own in a moment of reassurance.]
Just breathe. No one will be looking too hard at you, Basch. I'll make sure of it.
[it's perhaps a strange thing to say, an offering to make... but Olivine is into this. he's into the idea of being noticed, of being coveted just outside of someone else's reach. it's even easier here, where no one really knows who or what he is.
he's not exaggerating to say no one is going to be paying attention to Basch's face, either, or anything else that would immediately ID him. sure, he's not openly out in a mess of straps and clasps, but people are always more interested in the show, the gossip of it.
... in any case, the going is easy until it's absolutely not, and a moment of confusion sees them both pulling in opposite directions, leash going taut and tugging Olivine along both in response and out of necessity to not trip someone else. it could be forgiven if Basch didn't hear the absolutely lascivious noise it rips out of the priest, catching the ear (and eyes) of a few passersby.
not so long ago, it would have made him want to die. to just wither away into the dark never to be seen again, even in this crowd of strangers. it's really because of that that he can understand Basch's own hesitation, and it would have probably stamped out his embarrassment even were it still stronger. the blond steps in to him, and in turn Olivine's gaze tilts up just the slightest bit.]
... I'm fine. [softly, and as eyes wander his body, utterly unaware that Basch finds it even the slightest bit salacious, he can't help it. he promised, after all, and so he reaches up to gently cradle the blond's jaw, eyes closing briefly. then, a little louder:] You're my master, and I should be able to follow you anywhere. Please forgive me, but I can't help but like it when you make it hard on me. It reminds me that you're not looking at anyone else.
[the words are... only half improvised. it's easy to speak from the depths of what he's been thinking for the last—God, however long it's been since they'd stepped out of the baths. moreover, when he presses in close enough that their chests press together, bulky arms cover his face when he leans in to whisper, with a little more kindness and honesty:]
You won't hurt me, Basch. I've... been hoping you would pull a little since we left the store. I'll take whatever you're willing to give.
[it's going to be a lot to take in all at once, but while they're here in public, things happen fast. just like him stepping back to bow down, ever the picture of a penitent man.
he just... hopes it isn't too much all at once. he'd meant to take it a little slower, at least until they were properly in private.]
[ Further shame curls in his stomach that this stranger has to care for him. But it's appreciated, which only makes the shame heavier.
But nothing could prepare him for Olivine's strategy in doing so, his eyes going wide and his mouth parting, a sinking embarrassment at the truth of the words. He' not looking at anyone else, and furthermore, he very much was looking at Olivine.
And it had not even occurred to him, even with the leash, even with the clerk's explanation and Olivine's offer, that the other had been interested before that.
His breath comes as a shallow rasp, too shocked to move but aching at how close Olivine is. He nods once. If...if that's what Olivine wants, he can provide. ]
Alright.
[ The bow, though, makes his stomach twist. He isn't someone who deserves deference, has no desire for power. The shame of that, though, the pressure to keep character, that does do something for him, as horrible as it is. And he has a duty to this man.
Heart pounding, he twists the lead in his hand, pulling (if gently) tighter so that Olivine can feel it. ]
Come [ How does this even work? ] ...servant.
[ He has to very deliberately turn and walk, even if his ears are straining for sound of pain or discomfort, even if he wants to just fall to his own knees and ask what Olivine wishes. He does his best to put his shoulders back, act the confident faceless guard. Olivine is right that eyes will be on the beautiful, leashed prince of a man. He's thankful, even as he wants to protect the other from the degrading, hungry gazes that follow them.
Usually even keeled, something is off, and that anger flares. ] He is mine [ he nearly snarls, and a wave of anticipation and terror washes through him at realizing that is true, until the lead relinquishes them. ]
[it had been a gambit, in part, to get Basch to focus on everyone else. to draw his thoughts in close, closer, until the world falls away—a tactic Eiden has used on him to great success too. he's certainly learned from every encounter they've had. he's also glad it works, even if he regrets having to cause more embarrassment, more shame.
they'll talk about it later, when they're not in public anymore. shame isn't something he deserves, and while he's sure that conversation won't go yet, he can at least offer him some comfort in private. hopefully.]
Yes, master. I will try to match your pace.
[in some way, it's a reciprocal thing, hearkening back to the letters etched in fog on glass. Olivine technically less so than Basch, but in ignoring his plain discomforts, there's something a little dehumanising in the moment.
before Basch begins moving, Olivine shifts to gently wrap some of the length of the lead around his hand, shortening the length. a reminder, a promise. that this is what he wants, what he's agreed to. shortening the leash only means it's easier to get little tugs in, even though the priest can more or less keep up.
he'll find no pain or discomfort in his voice though—quite the opposite. and though Olivine's heart pounds at the sensation of gazes on him, hungry and wanting, that too is not displeasure. he likes it. really likes it, in fact. being seen is usually such a fear, but no one knows him. no one is looking at a priest of Klein, just a young man in a leash, dutifully following his "master."]
... do you want to show them, Master?
[the sensation of anger is perhaps too real, and Olivine almost slips back into soothing. it's difficult to ask it as a question, rather than to reassure him that he's allowed to do it, that Olivine wants it. he's stepped up next to the taller man where he's paused, fingers subtly finding their way to cling to Basch's shirt to hopefully soothe.]
They can't have me, no matter how desperately they try. I know you'll protect me. But if you want to make them see, I trust you with all of me.
[he is... a pretty decent actor, really; all that idol training definitely paid off. it's not helping with dissuading the eyes on him, but that wasn't what he was trying to do anyway.]
[ Something is off. Because the more this ticks on, the more he finds his eyes flitting around, some strangled mix of wanting to protect Olivine's honor and absolutely ruin it in front of these cloying heathens burns through his veins. Below it, though, is a desperate voice telling him no, restraint, honor. Do not do this.
Olivine's suggestions are not helping, making his breath come heavy. Trusts him. As a protector. Willing to be claimed.
Basch has never wanted to claim anything in his life.
Or has he? Has it just been so pushed down? What is serving a commander or a charge, if not claiming them. They are mine. I am closest to them. I protect and serve them. I am theirs, and thus they are mine.
His eyes are slightly dilated, his usually submissive movement rigid. His eyes search, a soldier's eyes taking in the terrain.
Not so far up is one of the alcoves with a fireplace and furniture, partially hidden but not private by any stretch. ]
Yes [ he growls. ] We will show them. Come. [ This time he does not hesitate to pull the lead taught as he strides toward the glowing niche. Someone tries to reach out and touch Olivine, giggling, and he growls, swatting their hand before it reaches. ] He is under my protection. Only mine.
[something is off, and it reminds Olivine of essence fluctuations. Not the same, of course—if it was, it would be affecting him just as strongly, wouldn't it? But then... maybe he is more affected than not.
It's a belated occurrence, even after their long talk, that this is... fairly unlike him. He'd chalk it up to Eiden's influence in a pinch, but who really knows?
Basch—shifts, his eyes turning to the surroundings before he speaks. Accepts the offer, to Olivine's surprise.
come, he says, and Olivine gives another soft moan when the lead tugs at his neck. Legs press into motion and he keeps up as best he can, gently squeezing a hand in reassurance when he stops to swat a bystander's hand away. There, it's alright... this time he doesn't soothe with words, just follows the short pathway to the seats at the end. At least he seems close enough to prevent others from grabbing for him again. Soon, there's the added warmth from the fire crackling,]
[ Whatever in Basch is still concerned eases every time Olivine moans, something more strangled and ashamed when the man squeezes his hand in reassurance. It's not unwelcome though.
They pull into the little niche. The fire crackles, and there's a high backed wooden chair, a loveseat whose back is not enough to shield them from view, and a thick rug. A drawered end table stands between the furniture.
He turns abruptly as they get inside, pulling the lead tight as his mouth roughly takes Olivine's, his other hand snaking down to the man's ass. That was how he liked to be treated in this dynamic. His mind is spinning though; even with the unknown magic running through him, this isn't a role he has experience with.
So it's entirely him when he asks gently ] How can I make this good for you?
[Oh, Olivine practically melts when Basch captures his mouth, lead pulled tight and a hand at his ass. Lashes flutter and droop, and it's a miracle his eyes don't close.
They're sure to have an audience, by now. Olivine is both thrilled and terrified, and so—he keeps his focus ahead, on the blonde in front of him. Softly, without a hint of that aggression, he asks how to make this good for him, and Olivine chuckles softly, tongue flicking across Basch's lips.]
Just focus on how you'd like this to be done to you. [He cradles the other's jaw then.] ... I'll try to point you to what I want, but you won't hurt me no matter how rough you are. If it goes too far... I'll say a word. Let's go with... "seahorse." Okay? If you hear that, then you stop.
So please don't hesitate to hurt me a little. Pull my hair, bite me, bruise me. I'm still in control. You're doing what I want. Don't stop unless you hear that word.
[He is, after all. With a safe word in place, that's even more true; it implies the idea that if Olivine doesn't say that word, he's expressly consenting to whatever happens. ]
I finally return to my computer and YAY HE'S IN more of their messes to come
[ He's nodding, eyes dilated but a calm settling over him. Orders. He can do orders. He can focus on what the rules are, what Olivine wants, and knowing the other has a word to tell him to stop. That helps. Even if he doesn't believe he won't hurt the man. Still, for once, he's alright with his full strength not being back. Hurting a little, though, that he can do. He understands the joy of that. ]
Alright. Remove my shirt.
[ He assumes he was put in that harness for a reason, hopefully one that was Olivine's taste.
He jerks the lead, almost hesitating, but turns to bite the soft curve of Olivine's neck, waiting only until he hears the other react to pull back. A tease. Is he...doing this right? He can't ask. That isn't his role. ]
[Basch may never know just how deeply depraved Olivine is, but that's fine. not everyone needs to, after all.]
Yes, master.
[Olivine exhales it as a soft, pleasant sigh; he doesn't know why the game chose to do what it did, but he's certainly not displeased with it. warm fingers find the edge of Basch's shirt, curling there to start pulling it up—an act that pauses when teeth press down against his neck. Ah...
he's not hard to read, by any means. the pressure sees him pressing in closer, a soft whine of a moan escaping parted lips. not long enough, probably to satisfy Olivine—but that's what teases are for, aren't they. the priest has a job to do, and right now that job is dutifully working Basch's shirt off, his gaze falling shyly, hungrily, on the harness still left underneath.]
Please don't tease me so, master...♥
[there is not a single word in the sentence that makes it sound the slightest bit earnest, at least, nor does Olivine's expression suggest he's the least bit bothered. it's the first time, in fact, that he's been able to make up a reason to pause but not... push himself to do so, to let himself descend into true debauchery for once. are people looking? they must be, he's sure, and the idea only excites him more.]
[ He's...not certain at all he likes that title, but he does like the way Olivine sighs. Likes the whining moan even more, his cock reacting more readily than his heart is willing to. And this time, he does see Olivine's eyes take him in. Well, this thing is alright, if it's making the other man so desirous. This should be good for him. ]
I will tease you until you beg. [ It's a low growl, as much because he is still uncertain of himself as because he thinks that's what he would want. And that odd sensation in him is bubbling up. He wants people to hear, to know, to watch, even as some other part of him is terrified of that kind of observation. He reaches out, running his fingers delicately through Olivine's hair once, then tightening his grip, pulling his head back so that they look at each other. ]
And I want you to beg loud enough that this entire floor knows you are mine.
[ He flushes as he says it, face twisting for a moment as the urge to apologize rises up. But the real panic is the way he likes it, likes that Olivine likes it, likes the absolutely humiliating feeling of being seen like this and someone...commenting on it later. Asking for him to be this again. ]
Why did you stop undressing me? [ But he jerks Olivine's head to the side, biting the other side of his neck, harder. ] I thought you wanted to be taken.
[He's losing a lot more of his sense than Olivine wants to admit, every time Basch speaks. It's the growling, the surety of it... for a moment, he almost forgets how awkward Basch had been.]
Ah... haah... mnngh—!
[a pull of hair and Olivine squirms, every inch of him practically on fire. His lips part for soft, panting breaths, fondness in his pleasure-dulled gaze.]
My... haah... my apologies...
[heat pools deeper as his fingers stall, lost for a moment in the sensation—but then Basch bites down on his neck, harder still, and he could swoon if he wasn't still aware.]
Nngh! I do... I do. [panting, his hands lose their gentleness, pulling abruptly and impatiently at fabric until it's out of the way.] Please give me more. ♡
[He's already so hard under everything he's wearing, and as he finishes stripping away Basch's clothing he leans in a bit more.]
How much can I take off of mine...? I don't how which sounds best... there are so many options to show off for you... hehe. I can't pull off my shirt, but I'll do anything else you want me to...
[ despite his reservations, it’s so clear that Olivine is melting into the pleasure of this. His own breath hitches, cock responding to the eroticism of making another hungry. It turns into a genuine moan as Olivine’s touch gets more impatient, the cool hair suddenly biting his hot skin. For once, he isn’t worried about his body being seen. There’s no flinching, no attempt to skirt his gaze away. ]
You’re quite ready, but I am not. How will you tempt me to give you what you want, you needy thing?
[ He keeps his voice a low growl, tugging the lead right to jerk Olivine’s face to his. A kiss. Gentle, first, checking if the other is alright, reminding them both this is an act. And then he bits his lip, shoves his tongue against the other’s and skims his hand down his front to oh so briefly palm his impressive erection.
And then he brings it around Olivine’s backside, smacking his ass hard enough to make an audible sound. If people weren’t aware, they likely are now. ]
[if he's honest, Olivine has half-forgotten this is an act. not the fact that Basch is handling him this way—distantly, he hasn't forgotten their words or the fact that he needs to keep some sense of control here (insomuch as he's enjoying having "none," as is his wont), but the actual act...
well, it heats him up more than the blond could really know.]
Ah—I'll... mmh...
[lids lilt downward as Basch pulls him closer, lips meeting in sweet comfort first, a reminder. Olivine is definitely deeply buried in the moment, all the pleasure of it threatening to strip him of sense here and there... but even as teeth connect with the soft flesh of his lip, as a tongue dives between them to meet his own, he manages to keep hold of a thread of it.
it's just for Basch, probably. he certainly doesn't need it. a hand palms him and the priest rises up into it, sighing into his partner's lips, only to jolt and yelp sweetly at the smack of his ass. fuck.
shuddering, he ignores the aching squeeze of his body to focus on the task. what he's been asked. what Basch needs, really.]
Haah... haaaah... should I tell you... how needy I am? [his arms skim up over the other's shoulders, still trembling with want. usually, it would take a little longer to break this way, he supposes... but it's necessary, and he wants to. his voice drops to a heady whisper, something kept strictly between them, unworthy of anyone else.] Would that be enough?
How I keep thinking about being pressed—face first into the furniture, squirming while you work me open on your fingers...? [face-first is a soft little concession for himself, granted. being seen is... God, it's enough to get him off, but he's still not sure how he feels about the actual idea of feeling it, at least with a bunch of onlookers.] My arms held behind my back, unable to do anything but beg you to fill me. And when you do, to feel it so deep, hotter than my skin with every slap... ah.
[ah. just thinking about it has him squirming again, an excellent sign really.]
I want so many things... nngh... but these people aren't worthy of seeing them all.
[ It certainly helps to see how thoroughly Olivine is being overtaken by want. Was this what it was like for his own partners, watching him become overwhelmed with need? He was sure he was never so enthusiastic, and it almost makes him embarrassed to see how open Olivine is. Embarrassed, and envious.
He doesn’t know what he needs now, though, and he appreciates Olivine trying, even if being told how wanted he is turns out to be a big icy pour or cold water. Olivine doesn’t want him. He wants whatever this act is, and while Basch can give that, it does nothing to get him ready. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t need to be put in a position that allows him to do this, especially when Olivine is the more vulnerable. Why can’t his just will himself to it?
But Olivine keeps going, and that fantasy pulls a real rasping groan from Basch. That he can understand the appeal of, and it’s something he can provide.
He keeps his voice low, that deep grumble, pulling the lead tight and cupping Olivine in the palm of his hand, applying just enough pressure to his sack to make it rougher than a tease.
These people aren’t worthy of seeing any of your pleasure, but I want it clear you are mine. If you perform well enough, maybe I will give you more later, where only I can see. Now, strip down and get your ass up where I can reach it comfortably.
[ He loathes himself for what he’s saying, but he keeps his gaze steady on Olivine, watching the squirms of pleasure. It can’t be so bad if the other is so happy, and what does it matter to him? His own pleasure certainly doesn’t. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lmao i changed my mind
I'd meant to get new clothing after this. Perhaps after, one of the fireplaces they have set up across the building?
[ They were private, cozy, not so unsettling for him as some of the more futuristic materials and styles. ]
in the words of the internet: fuck it, we ball
of course, he'd also be relieved to be someone Basch feels some sense of calm with.]
That sounds like a wonderful plan. I could use something a little less... awkward to wear, myself. [he smiles broadly then, at the thought of the fireplaces.] And if we're lucky, perhaps they'll have some cocoa to enjoy while we sit. It was always one of my favourite things about the holidays, spending time around the fires, drinking sweet drinks and watching the children open gifts.
[he is just too soft, sometimes. but now he can step away from the mirror, its terrible omens all but forgotten, and stand proudly with his new conversation partner.]
Shall we, then?
just gonna scoot us forward
and Olivine absolutely glows as he talks about fireplaces and holidays. ]
We shall have to hope there are no children here, but the comfort of a sweet drink and a fire are the most agreeable suggestions I've heard today.
[ No matter he'll abstain from something as indulgent as cocoa, but a fire...that he'll allow.
Basch nods, and, retrieving the terrible shirts and undergarments they'd been given, does his best not to appear as flustered as he feels walking to the shops like this. It's...easier that so many are in similar situations, or wearing things that are much more revealing.
They split up to find clothes, and it takes him some time to find anything...plain. But he does, and that is a victory. He slips into a dressing room, uneasy at the large holes, and does his best to change quickly. He's about to step out and pay when there's an odd buzzing sensation, not unlike reaching into the Mist, and a flash across his vision. When it clears, he's red near to his navel, which is now exposed. His top, scarred and muscled and gleaming with small golden hairs, bears only a harness of dark leather and metal, obviously meant to tantalize. The bottom is worse, a strappy thing that covers his manhood and little else, his ass bare save a strap down the middle and two garters encircling his massive thighs, connecting to the strap at his waist.
He felt less exposed in the baths.
Neither set of actual clothing are anywhere to be found, which leaves him in the predicament that he'd have to leave like this to solve the problem. ]
Olivine?
[ He calls, a little hoarse. Maybe he can get the other man to hand him...literally anything to get out of this stall and this store. ]
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[His horror when he realises how young people can be... will be its own thing. Until then, he walks with Basch, just piping up whenever he thinks of something or the other man speaks in turn. After all, he figures that keeping the man's attention on something other than the plainly awkward shirts they have to wear should be... at least a little helpful.
He's almost reluctant to leave Basch on his own to find clothes, but of course that's silly. The man can clearly handle himself, and... well, they're both looking for very different things. Olivine can already feel himself getting antsy with his gemstone brushing his shirt, after all.
Finding something that looks good together is actually his difficulty, though Olivine isn't so picky as to struggle too much. He has a few vouchers and such, so it's easy to pick up a few options (that will inevitably be too tight in the chest, because honestly how is he built this way) and had toward the changing rooms with.
... hearing his name is a little surprising.]
Is everything alright, Basch?
[It takes a moment to find the right stall, and he waits for an answer even after, before he'll go to slip inside at all. Privacy and all, even in the face of those holes. He's curious, but the blond's comfort comes first.]
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I, ah, could you toss me and large shirt and trousers? There was an issue with these.
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... did something happen to the other clothes? [was it to do with the holes?] Ah—sorry, I'll see what I can find. I have some shirts you can try, but I don't think the trousers would fit you.
[they're both remarkably built, but Olivine's body slims down around the waist. In any case, he starts by at least holding out one of the shirts, simple but... definitely short. It won't cover Olivine's stomach, and that's kind of the point.]
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[ Oh, Basch.
He sees the shirt enter the stall, grasps at it long enough to process that it's cropped, but the moment it leaves Olivine's hands, it simply disappears.
He makes a strangled, defeated noise. Is this this place's commentary that he hasn't selected acceptable clothing? ]
Would you...find an attendant?
[ Olivine doesn't get a chance, though, because a length of leather loops around his neck, snapping shut as the lead pulls him into the stall, the handle sliding into Basch's hand. There is absolutely nowhere to hide, and his eyes are wide, equal parts embarrassed out of his mind and staring at what Olivine has dressed himself in.
That's before he realizes that he's holding a lead now attached to the other man's neck. ]
I --
[ He's so red. ]
Is there someone who can assist us? [ he calls, hoarse. He'd rather one person see them than...walk out like this. ]
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Right, I'll—
[He's cut off with an undignified yelp as a collar wraps itself around his throat, looking for someone nearby in the instant before the leash itself just pulls him into the changing room. It's not the leash or the fact that it's in Basch's hand that catches his attention, but the outfit he's been unfortunately stuffed into.
Unfortunate for Basch, that is; Olivine's eyes drift over him as politely as they can, and it takes a moment of control to prevent himself from saying anything about how he looks (which is fantastic, honestly). He himself is dressed in another of those cropped shirts, the muscle of his abs on display as much as the pretty green gem attached to his navel. His pants are maybe a little tight too, certainly fitted nicely.]
I... don't think there was anyone around... [Olivine is apologetic, brows furrowing further. He's ignoring his own flushed cheeks now.] We may need to grab something on the way out for you. Ah—not that this looks bad on you, but I assume something made it change.
[There is no doubt in his mind that someone like Basch didn't choose something like this, then got it all the way on before realising.]
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He closes his eyes, nodding. Something on the way out. Just...get back to their rooms. ]
Let's get this off of you first. [ He steps closer, body flushed, trying not to think about the fact that their stomachs could easily brush like this. But his fingers scrabble around it, and there is no clasp. What's more, when he tries to hand the lead to Olivine, it will not release his hand. ]
It...seems we have to keep this for now too. Is that alright? [ As if he could do anything if it wasn't.
On Olivine's confirmation -- with his knees nearly jelly -- they emerge from the booth. No one is around the immediate vicinity, and he'll pull on a pair of pants and boots that thankfully stay put. It's...awkward, having to hold Olivine close on the lead. And worse, something about the sight of it threatens to excite him.
Curse this entire place.
And, unable to face the cashier, he slides a mask off a display. At check-out, the clerk apologizes, confirming what he feared. The rogue item needs its purpose met to release, otherwise it could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days before it does so on its own. ]
I...suppose we should take care of this then [ Basch murmurs as they walk out, trying to keep the lead comfortably between them so they can walk with ease. ]
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[Basch steps closer and this time, Olivine has to pause and take in a breath. he's doing better than the blond, sure, but that doesn't mean everything is just perfect. the collar feels comfortable around his neck, after all, and his eyes close briefly at the scrabble of fingers, careful but not terribly delicate.
he only just manages to hide his shiver when they reach the realisation that the leash just... won't let him give it away.]
It's alright. I... don't dislike the feeling that much. If it would help, I can walk first so you don't have to worry about being so exposed.
[either way, they make it out to the cashier, and Olivine murmurs a soft thanks to them for the confirmation. at least they're done here, and the leash itself will likely let Basch go if he does seem completely unwilling (which probably says something that it's still holding on tight).]
Right... should we go to the rooms? I... don't mind somewhere else, but those would be the most private, of course. [he's finding it a little harder to keep Basch's own intricacies in mind when having a leash makes him want, makes him think about what it would feel like if he was a little less gentle, if he pulled just so.]
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Olivine, who is being so sweet about this. Interested even. That was right -- he liked this sort of thing. Which Basch admires, really. It's just...
The emotions make his stomach twist, barely able to even name them. ]
I -- yes. That seems reasonable.
[ Reasonable. None of this is reasonable. He adjusts the mask on his face with his free hand. It's not like his hair and build aren't recognizable, but it gives him some comfort to have his face hidden.
The hall becomes crowded at a junction, and he steps left to avoid it, Olivine right, causing the rope to lead to tug tighter. His head snaps up, immediately wanting to check on the other, only to be met with at least four or five gazes on them. Even in passing they are approving, hungry, one disgusted.
A strange heat rolls through him, and the urge to stand taller, to tug the lead more intentionally whispers in his mind. ]
Are you alright? [ he asks instead, closing the space between them so the lead goes slack. This time his eyes wander more slowly across Olivine. He is -- beautiful, and confident. Basch would never have the comfort with himself to wear something like that. ]
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Just breathe. No one will be looking too hard at you, Basch. I'll make sure of it.
[it's perhaps a strange thing to say, an offering to make... but Olivine is into this. he's into the idea of being noticed, of being coveted just outside of someone else's reach. it's even easier here, where no one really knows who or what he is.
he's not exaggerating to say no one is going to be paying attention to Basch's face, either, or anything else that would immediately ID him. sure, he's not openly out in a mess of straps and clasps, but people are always more interested in the show, the gossip of it.
... in any case, the going is easy until it's absolutely not, and a moment of confusion sees them both pulling in opposite directions, leash going taut and tugging Olivine along both in response and out of necessity to not trip someone else. it could be forgiven if Basch didn't hear the absolutely lascivious noise it rips out of the priest, catching the ear (and eyes) of a few passersby.
not so long ago, it would have made him want to die. to just wither away into the dark never to be seen again, even in this crowd of strangers. it's really because of that that he can understand Basch's own hesitation, and it would have probably stamped out his embarrassment even were it still stronger. the blond steps in to him, and in turn Olivine's gaze tilts up just the slightest bit.]
... I'm fine. [softly, and as eyes wander his body, utterly unaware that Basch finds it even the slightest bit salacious, he can't help it. he promised, after all, and so he reaches up to gently cradle the blond's jaw, eyes closing briefly. then, a little louder:] You're my master, and I should be able to follow you anywhere. Please forgive me, but I can't help but like it when you make it hard on me. It reminds me that you're not looking at anyone else.
[the words are... only half improvised. it's easy to speak from the depths of what he's been thinking for the last—God, however long it's been since they'd stepped out of the baths. moreover, when he presses in close enough that their chests press together, bulky arms cover his face when he leans in to whisper, with a little more kindness and honesty:]
You won't hurt me, Basch. I've... been hoping you would pull a little since we left the store. I'll take whatever you're willing to give.
[it's going to be a lot to take in all at once, but while they're here in public, things happen fast. just like him stepping back to bow down, ever the picture of a penitent man.
he just... hopes it isn't too much all at once. he'd meant to take it a little slower, at least until they were properly in private.]
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But nothing could prepare him for Olivine's strategy in doing so, his eyes going wide and his mouth parting, a sinking embarrassment at the truth of the words. He' not looking at anyone else, and furthermore, he very much was looking at Olivine.
And it had not even occurred to him, even with the leash, even with the clerk's explanation and Olivine's offer, that the other had been interested before that.
His breath comes as a shallow rasp, too shocked to move but aching at how close Olivine is. He nods once. If...if that's what Olivine wants, he can provide. ]
Alright.
[ The bow, though, makes his stomach twist. He isn't someone who deserves deference, has no desire for power. The shame of that, though, the pressure to keep character, that does do something for him, as horrible as it is. And he has a duty to this man.
Heart pounding, he twists the lead in his hand, pulling (if gently) tighter so that Olivine can feel it. ]
Come [ How does this even work? ] ...servant.
[ He has to very deliberately turn and walk, even if his ears are straining for sound of pain or discomfort, even if he wants to just fall to his own knees and ask what Olivine wishes. He does his best to put his shoulders back, act the confident faceless guard. Olivine is right that eyes will be on the beautiful, leashed prince of a man. He's thankful, even as he wants to protect the other from the degrading, hungry gazes that follow them.
Usually even keeled, something is off, and that anger flares. ] He is mine [ he nearly snarls, and a wave of anticipation and terror washes through him at realizing that is true, until the lead relinquishes them. ]
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they'll talk about it later, when they're not in public anymore. shame isn't something he deserves, and while he's sure that conversation won't go yet, he can at least offer him some comfort in private. hopefully.]
Yes, master. I will try to match your pace.
[in some way, it's a reciprocal thing, hearkening back to the letters etched in fog on glass. Olivine technically less so than Basch, but in ignoring his plain discomforts, there's something a little dehumanising in the moment.
before Basch begins moving, Olivine shifts to gently wrap some of the length of the lead around his hand, shortening the length. a reminder, a promise. that this is what he wants, what he's agreed to. shortening the leash only means it's easier to get little tugs in, even though the priest can more or less keep up.
he'll find no pain or discomfort in his voice though—quite the opposite. and though Olivine's heart pounds at the sensation of gazes on him, hungry and wanting, that too is not displeasure. he likes it. really likes it, in fact. being seen is usually such a fear, but no one knows him. no one is looking at a priest of Klein, just a young man in a leash, dutifully following his "master."]
... do you want to show them, Master?
[the sensation of anger is perhaps too real, and Olivine almost slips back into soothing. it's difficult to ask it as a question, rather than to reassure him that he's allowed to do it, that Olivine wants it. he's stepped up next to the taller man where he's paused, fingers subtly finding their way to cling to Basch's shirt to hopefully soothe.]
They can't have me, no matter how desperately they try. I know you'll protect me. But if you want to make them see, I trust you with all of me.
[he is... a pretty decent actor, really; all that idol training definitely paid off. it's not helping with dissuading the eyes on him, but that wasn't what he was trying to do anyway.]
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Olivine's suggestions are not helping, making his breath come heavy. Trusts him. As a protector. Willing to be claimed.
Basch has never wanted to claim anything in his life.
Or has he? Has it just been so pushed down? What is serving a commander or a charge, if not claiming them. They are mine. I am closest to them. I protect and serve them. I am theirs, and thus they are mine.
His eyes are slightly dilated, his usually submissive movement rigid. His eyes search, a soldier's eyes taking in the terrain.
Not so far up is one of the alcoves with a fireplace and furniture, partially hidden but not private by any stretch. ]
Yes [ he growls. ] We will show them. Come. [ This time he does not hesitate to pull the lead taught as he strides toward the glowing niche. Someone tries to reach out and touch Olivine, giggling, and he growls, swatting their hand before it reaches. ] He is under my protection. Only mine.
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It's a belated occurrence, even after their long talk, that this is... fairly unlike him. He'd chalk it up to Eiden's influence in a pinch, but who really knows?
Basch—shifts, his eyes turning to the surroundings before he speaks. Accepts the offer, to Olivine's surprise.
come, he says, and Olivine gives another soft moan when the lead tugs at his neck. Legs press into motion and he keeps up as best he can, gently squeezing a hand in reassurance when he stops to swat a bystander's hand away. There, it's alright... this time he doesn't soothe with words, just follows the short pathway to the seats at the end. At least he seems close enough to prevent others from grabbing for him again. Soon, there's the added warmth from the fire crackling,]
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They pull into the little niche. The fire crackles, and there's a high backed wooden chair, a loveseat whose back is not enough to shield them from view, and a thick rug. A drawered end table stands between the furniture.
He turns abruptly as they get inside, pulling the lead tight as his mouth roughly takes Olivine's, his other hand snaking down to the man's ass. That was how he liked to be treated in this dynamic. His mind is spinning though; even with the unknown magic running through him, this isn't a role he has experience with.
So it's entirely him when he asks gently ] How can I make this good for you?
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They're sure to have an audience, by now. Olivine is both thrilled and terrified, and so—he keeps his focus ahead, on the blonde in front of him. Softly, without a hint of that aggression, he asks how to make this good for him, and Olivine chuckles softly, tongue flicking across Basch's lips.]
Just focus on how you'd like this to be done to you. [He cradles the other's jaw then.] ... I'll try to point you to what I want, but you won't hurt me no matter how rough you are. If it goes too far... I'll say a word. Let's go with... "seahorse." Okay? If you hear that, then you stop.
So please don't hesitate to hurt me a little. Pull my hair, bite me, bruise me. I'm still in control. You're doing what I want. Don't stop unless you hear that word.
[He is, after all. With a safe word in place, that's even more true; it implies the idea that if Olivine doesn't say that word, he's expressly consenting to whatever happens. ]
I finally return to my computer and YAY HE'S IN more of their messes to come
Alright. Remove my shirt.
[ He assumes he was put in that harness for a reason, hopefully one that was Olivine's taste.
He jerks the lead, almost hesitating, but turns to bite the soft curve of Olivine's neck, waiting only until he hears the other react to pull back. A tease. Is he...doing this right? He can't ask. That isn't his role. ]
YAY HE'S IN congrats!!!
Yes, master.
[Olivine exhales it as a soft, pleasant sigh; he doesn't know why the game chose to do what it did, but he's certainly not displeased with it. warm fingers find the edge of Basch's shirt, curling there to start pulling it up—an act that pauses when teeth press down against his neck. Ah...
he's not hard to read, by any means. the pressure sees him pressing in closer, a soft whine of a moan escaping parted lips. not long enough, probably to satisfy Olivine—but that's what teases are for, aren't they. the priest has a job to do, and right now that job is dutifully working Basch's shirt off, his gaze falling shyly, hungrily, on the harness still left underneath.]
Please don't tease me so, master...♥
[there is not a single word in the sentence that makes it sound the slightest bit earnest, at least, nor does Olivine's expression suggest he's the least bit bothered. it's the first time, in fact, that he's been able to make up a reason to pause but not... push himself to do so, to let himself descend into true debauchery for once. are people looking? they must be, he's sure, and the idea only excites him more.]
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I will tease you until you beg. [ It's a low growl, as much because he is still uncertain of himself as because he thinks that's what he would want. And that odd sensation in him is bubbling up. He wants people to hear, to know, to watch, even as some other part of him is terrified of that kind of observation. He reaches out, running his fingers delicately through Olivine's hair once, then tightening his grip, pulling his head back so that they look at each other. ]
And I want you to beg loud enough that this entire floor knows you are mine.
[ He flushes as he says it, face twisting for a moment as the urge to apologize rises up. But the real panic is the way he likes it, likes that Olivine likes it, likes the absolutely humiliating feeling of being seen like this and someone...commenting on it later. Asking for him to be this again. ]
Why did you stop undressing me? [ But he jerks Olivine's head to the side, biting the other side of his neck, harder. ] I thought you wanted to be taken.
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Ah... haah... mnngh—!
[a pull of hair and Olivine squirms, every inch of him practically on fire. His lips part for soft, panting breaths, fondness in his pleasure-dulled gaze.]
My... haah... my apologies...
[heat pools deeper as his fingers stall, lost for a moment in the sensation—but then Basch bites down on his neck, harder still, and he could swoon if he wasn't still aware.]
Nngh! I do... I do. [panting, his hands lose their gentleness, pulling abruptly and impatiently at fabric until it's out of the way.] Please give me more. ♡
[He's already so hard under everything he's wearing, and as he finishes stripping away Basch's clothing he leans in a bit more.]
How much can I take off of mine...? I don't how which sounds best... there are so many options to show off for you... hehe. I can't pull off my shirt, but I'll do anything else you want me to...
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You’re quite ready, but I am not. How will you tempt me to give you what you want, you needy thing?
[ He keeps his voice a low growl, tugging the lead right to jerk Olivine’s face to his. A kiss. Gentle, first, checking if the other is alright, reminding them both this is an act. And then he bits his lip, shoves his tongue against the other’s and skims his hand down his front to oh so briefly palm his impressive erection.
And then he brings it around Olivine’s backside, smacking his ass hard enough to make an audible sound. If people weren’t aware, they likely are now. ]
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well, it heats him up more than the blond could really know.]
Ah—I'll... mmh...
[lids lilt downward as Basch pulls him closer, lips meeting in sweet comfort first, a reminder. Olivine is definitely deeply buried in the moment, all the pleasure of it threatening to strip him of sense here and there... but even as teeth connect with the soft flesh of his lip, as a tongue dives between them to meet his own, he manages to keep hold of a thread of it.
it's just for Basch, probably. he certainly doesn't need it. a hand palms him and the priest rises up into it, sighing into his partner's lips, only to jolt and yelp sweetly at the smack of his ass. fuck.
shuddering, he ignores the aching squeeze of his body to focus on the task. what he's been asked. what Basch needs, really.]
Haah... haaaah... should I tell you... how needy I am? [his arms skim up over the other's shoulders, still trembling with want. usually, it would take a little longer to break this way, he supposes... but it's necessary, and he wants to. his voice drops to a heady whisper, something kept strictly between them, unworthy of anyone else.] Would that be enough?
How I keep thinking about being pressed—face first into the furniture, squirming while you work me open on your fingers...? [face-first is a soft little concession for himself, granted. being seen is... God, it's enough to get him off, but he's still not sure how he feels about the actual idea of feeling it, at least with a bunch of onlookers.] My arms held behind my back, unable to do anything but beg you to fill me. And when you do, to feel it so deep, hotter than my skin with every slap... ah.
[ah. just thinking about it has him squirming again, an excellent sign really.]
I want so many things... nngh... but these people aren't worthy of seeing them all.
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He doesn’t know what he needs now, though, and he appreciates Olivine trying, even if being told how wanted he is turns out to be a big icy pour or cold water. Olivine doesn’t want him. He wants whatever this act is, and while Basch can give that, it does nothing to get him ready. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t need to be put in a position that allows him to do this, especially when Olivine is the more vulnerable. Why can’t his just will himself to it?
But Olivine keeps going, and that fantasy pulls a real rasping groan from Basch. That he can understand the appeal of, and it’s something he can provide.
He keeps his voice low, that deep grumble, pulling the lead tight and cupping Olivine in the palm of his hand, applying just enough pressure to his sack to make it rougher than a tease.
These people aren’t worthy of seeing any of your pleasure, but I want it clear you are mine. If you perform well enough, maybe I will give you more later, where only I can see. Now, strip down and get your ass up where I can reach it comfortably.
[ He loathes himself for what he’s saying, but he keeps his gaze steady on Olivine, watching the squirms of pleasure. It can’t be so bad if the other is so happy, and what does it matter to him? His own pleasure certainly doesn’t. ]
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Wrap this one?
sounds good!