[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. ]
[Basch... is an idiot. Olivine hasn't registered it, just how deeply that self-scorn runs, though he no doubt will eventually. and it's true—what acts he speaks are factors unrelated to the blond himself—the green-haired priest has no shortage of fantasies he's indulged in over his time. whether or not they fit with Basch... well.
this is about a lot of things. mostly about shredding away the anxiety of the situation as best he can, the gentle consideration easily forgotten beneath vulgar words and vulnerable actions. this isn't Basch, and it isn't fair, he thinks, to him either. picking at whatever's affected him is...
... he'll apologise for it later.
but they share some things, at least. enough to keep him in it, and enough to give him more than enough words to say. maybe it's better that Olivine slips so hard into this role, right now.]
Mmnh... yes, sir.
[he can't help but pause briefly, a terribly fond motion in the way he cradles Basch's face amid all the carnal pleasure of it. breaking from him after that moment, Olivine moves to do as he's told, stripping off the cropped shirt he'd been wearing, then the pants and underwear, revealing a remarkably muscular form beneath.
the play at confidence is a little harder now, knowing there's doubtless people actually watching (and mostly watching him), but he takes a quiet breath and buries that anxiety, knowing it will fade once he's not alone in the space anymore. it's not hard to find a space to lift himself up, braced on the nearest bit of furniture, hips tilted up and back, glancing sweetly over his shoulder. true, he can't keep the flush from his cheeks, but that's already been there since the beginning. it's fine.]
[ he would not argue with that assessment. But he’s grateful for what little information he has about Olivine and that the other so thoroughly enjoys this, because it gives him a role and a task, and he can find comfort and direction in that.
But his eyes widen, face suddenly soft and vulnerable as Olivine cradles his face in unbridled affection and approval. Even through this odd haze, that makes Basch’s chest tight. He’d do anything Olivine wanted to get more of that look, he knows, and gods help him because he knows what a liability it is.
He doesn’t have to do anything for the time being, because Olivine slips away to undress. Basch has been around a thousand naked muscled soldiers, but his eyes still rove, catching on broad shoulders and a jewel glistening in his midriff, a strong ass. It occurs to him again he has no idea what a man like Olivine would be attracted to in him, but this place has its ways, and the thought is gone again, because Olivine is positioning himself and looking back wantingly.
Heart thundering, Basch closed the space between them, trained enough in suppressing his emotions to keep the shake from his hands. He splays his rough hands over Olivine’s back, feeling the ridges of muscle and bone, before letting one slide across his hip to palm his sack briefly, teasingly. ]
Very good, my pet. Now let’s hear you sing.
[ his mind reels looking for what he’d want if their positions were reversed, trying to ignore how public this is. He bends down, placing a kiss on Olivine’s back, then another, then taking the soft swell of flesh in his mouth and biting hard while his fingers dig into the man’s thighs. ]
[lucky for Basch, he'll find that Olivine is fairly reasonable person. Take care of himself and that'll be enough—
Olivine half-watches the approach, noting him more by the soft warmth that comes to hover just behind him. The feeling of rough hands on his back is enough to get his heart pumping more still, hips jolting at the squeeze of one at his sack. It earns a needy little groan, and Olivine lets his head dip down a little.]
As—you wish...
[His voice is a little breathy, eyes closing as warm lips caress his back, drifting over strong muscles until—
Until Basch bites down, digging fingers into his thighs and (perhaps accidentally) drawing Olivine to arch and shift, legs spread a little obscenely wide.]
Ah—haah... like that...
[fingers grip the cushion he's perched over, eyes closing as his lower body leans into the rough sensations. The thought that people are still watching is there, but it fades into something more distant as his thoughts turn toward making this at least a little pleasurable for them both.]
[ O-oh. Olivine arches, legs spreading, and heat jolts through Basch so intensely that he momentarily forgets his role. He'd always wondered why that turned on partners so thoroughly, but he thinks he understands now. It doesn't hurt that Olivine is giving him that gentle, delighted encouragement. He's relaxing a little, even if he's failed to notice.
And it's...really attractive, the way Olivine grips the couch, body taut and trembling. It's pleasing to see that. He can focus on that. He can do this.
But he also doesn't want to hurt him, not in ways that aren't intentional. ]
Be patient [ he admonishes, even though he thinks the other is extremely patient, given the circumstances. He gives his ass another bite, a slap on the other cheek before he pulls away, hoping the sudden lack of feeling will be teasing and not just awkward. But he opens the drawers in the tables, assuming--
Yes. There's lubricant, thankfully sealed. He twists it open, rolling some in his hands to warm it. As he does, he stands close enough Olivine can feel his heat but not so close they are touching.
Gods he feels so awkward. He has no idea if this is right, or if he should do more, or less, ask more feedback, give more commands. All he can do is try to muddle through. ]
You look so flushed and pretty, with your ass up waiting for me. Should I be kind, or should I make you wait?
[ Talking helps. Gives him a character, reminds him who he's supposed to be. Hands lubed, he steps forward, slotting one arm through Olivine's legs to drag a single finger down his legs and across his sack. ]
[be patient, he says, and really, it's perfectly in character isn't it? he might laugh if he weren't so worried about keeping Basch focused on him, on... anything but the outside. it's unfair to him, but what else can he do?]
I'm try—nngh!
[God, but it makes him ache for more, the sting of each bite and slap more enticing than the blond could really know. similarly, more than he knows, there may be no need to worry about hurting him, but that's also neither here nor there, buried in the way his insides ache for more.
the return of heat so close to his bare skin is a boon, his words drawing up little shivers as Basch speaks them. Olivine... has to wonder how many times he's been in this position, given their earlier conversation. but he has to focus, too.]
Haah... ah... I've been waiting so long... I don't know how much longer I can wait. Won't you please be kind to me?
[there is enough of a sly undertone to that that Basch could pick up the option there, though taking it at face value is certainly easy enough. Olivine won't mind either path, in the end.
he does shiver when an arm slips between his legs to draw a finger over them, slick with lube and hot against his neglected skin. a little whine escapes in turn, hips shifting impatiently at the teasing.]
[ There's a low chuckle to his voice, a genuine warmth at how wound up Olivine is. ]
If you make a mess early, I shall have to walk you upstairs naked like this, with everyone to see the shame of my still being hard.
[ A threat he'd enjoy, and that's all he has to go off. But he doesn't intend to withhold. Even with this pressure, he wants to satisfy, and Olivine gave him a clear map. He brings his hand back up, finger circling the other's entrance a few times as he leans forward, dragging the bulge in his undergarments against Olivine's leg. He considers his position, then, with no warning, slides a finger deep into the other man, free arm going to sling around his waist and pull him close, body curling over him so he can bite his neck.
His goal is to see how loud he can get him, and maybe some begging, and then he will gladly give him what he wants. And if he comes before that, well, it's not matter to Basch, really. ]
[Olivine can't find it in himself to be embarrassed by the chuckle, the words. they're not wrong, per se—the priest's evident abundance of stamina notwithstanding.]
I won't... haaah. Wouldn't... do that to you... mm.
[though really, that's up to Basch in the end. Olivine has a decent thread of self-control, but it has a limit. the other feels hot against his leg, even through cloth, and it's almost worse than the brush of a finger against his entrance. almost.
and Basch is in for a treat, by the first noise Olivine makes when his finger slides in, deep and insistent, weight pulled back into the warmth of another body. it's made louder still by another bite, fingers curling in the fabric beneath them, burying into it. immediately, it's not enough, but when is it ever?
for a moment he just waits, in spite of the way his whole body twitches and seems to beg for more all on its own, hazy gaze turned up to watch the blond as much as he can. he wants to ask for more, though. it won't be long before impatience hits, he knows.]
[ Perhaps if he were really this sort of person, he'd take some joy in proving Olivine wrong or trying to embarrass him, but he's not. He's already decided on a path and here's no reason to stray from it.
He's not expecting how vocal Olivine is, perhaps because he is so used to needing to be quiet, or being the one coaxed to loudness. There's no resistance, just sheer pleasure.
He's surprised, too, that Olivine waits. Perhaps that's part of the game for him, what with the way he's looking back so expectantly.
Basch slowly slides his finger out and back in. ]
How is that, pet? Do I keep you well?
[ He knows it is not enough; it shouldn't be, if he wishes to be fucked into the sofa, but it is good to build tension. ]
[truthfully, he's being a little quiet. Olivine is... just... really bad at it. he's also a person who feels things deeply (heh) and doesn't really see a reason to hide that unless he absolutely must.
to be honest, it surprises him too, though. whatever the case, his gaze hazes over once Basch's finger starts to move, easing out and back in.]
Haah... [agonising. it's agonising to wait when he knows what he wants, but he likes this.] I think you're trying—to make me lose my mind... master.
[of course it's not enough, not by a long shot, but at least the other is so close, bent so sweetly over him. he can work with that.]
[ Basch's lips twitch, but the expression is soft. Yes, that was the idea, and he appreciates the confirmation he's moving in the right direction. He knows what it is, to have that want built up before it is released. ]
What would you do if I gave no more? [ he growls, slowing his hand and leaning away from Olivine, decreasing contact but standing close enough the other can still sense him. ] Would you wait, patiently, or would you fuck yourself against my hand?
[ Still, it pangs something in him to hear Olivine ask. So direct, so sweet. He's never been on this end of things, not like this, and it feels like getting an entirely new angle on himself, even if their preferences aren't perfectly aligned.
He won't be withholding that strongly, in the end, but he hopes the threat of it is pleasing. ]
[close, not close enough. his hand slows and Olivine struggles not to squirm immediately.]
Ah... haah... I would try... to wait, of course. But I don't know if I could stop myself.
[he neither suspects not expects Basch to hold out too long—honestly, he's really just following the blond's lead here in the grand scheme of it. picking up what feels good, of course, and firmly keeping everything in the context of here and now, the roles they've chosen—but he wants to be careful not to overstep, even if he's not been warned of any possibility of that.]
I want to be a good pet... but I'm only so strong. [there's a soft purr to it, almost a promise really.]
[ It would be difficult to overstep, which is why Basch has said little on the subject. Still, the impulse is implicitly helping him ease into this. ]
You are an excellent pet, even if you are weak. [ He strokes his knuckles down Olivine's back, admiring the musculature and beautiful skin, such a soft contrast to his own. Then he slaps his ass again, hard, before leaning back to bite the other cheek again, encouraging the other to squirm against his unmoving hand. ]
It is a beautiful weakness [ he murmurs against his skin, free hand moving to cup his sack, knowing he's not providing enough stimulation. The weaker Olivine gets to his own desire, the more he'll enjoy being fucked. ]
[it's an interesting push and pull, every time. Basch teases gentleness over soft skin and follows it with the harsh slap of a palm, the press of teeth, and Olivine only just bites his sound down to a manageable level. staying still? he'd have to be forced, nearly, especially as his body clenches down in his want.]
Haaah... thank you... master... [for the compliment, clearly. and less clearly, for the rough treatment, as his hips jolt and shift against that unmoving hand, rocking between it and the gentle hold over his sack. not enough, no—the priest can take more than most, in fact—but that's the point. a shiver slides down his spine, lip worried between teeth. only a moment, really, before he breaks.]
Please... I need more of you... I still feel so empty...
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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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this is about a lot of things. mostly about shredding away the anxiety of the situation as best he can, the gentle consideration easily forgotten beneath vulgar words and vulnerable actions. this isn't Basch, and it isn't fair, he thinks, to him either. picking at whatever's affected him is...
... he'll apologise for it later.
but they share some things, at least. enough to keep him in it, and enough to give him more than enough words to say. maybe it's better that Olivine slips so hard into this role, right now.]
Mmnh... yes, sir.
[he can't help but pause briefly, a terribly fond motion in the way he cradles Basch's face amid all the carnal pleasure of it. breaking from him after that moment, Olivine moves to do as he's told, stripping off the cropped shirt he'd been wearing, then the pants and underwear, revealing a remarkably muscular form beneath.
the play at confidence is a little harder now, knowing there's doubtless people actually watching (and mostly watching him), but he takes a quiet breath and buries that anxiety, knowing it will fade once he's not alone in the space anymore. it's not hard to find a space to lift himself up, braced on the nearest bit of furniture, hips tilted up and back, glancing sweetly over his shoulder. true, he can't keep the flush from his cheeks, but that's already been there since the beginning. it's fine.]
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But his eyes widen, face suddenly soft and vulnerable as Olivine cradles his face in unbridled affection and approval. Even through this odd haze, that makes Basch’s chest tight. He’d do anything Olivine wanted to get more of that look, he knows, and gods help him because he knows what a liability it is.
He doesn’t have to do anything for the time being, because Olivine slips away to undress. Basch has been around a thousand naked muscled soldiers, but his eyes still rove, catching on broad shoulders and a jewel glistening in his midriff, a strong ass. It occurs to him again he has no idea what a man like Olivine would be attracted to in him, but this place has its ways, and the thought is gone again, because Olivine is positioning himself and looking back wantingly.
Heart thundering, Basch closed the space between them, trained enough in suppressing his emotions to keep the shake from his hands. He splays his rough hands over Olivine’s back, feeling the ridges of muscle and bone, before letting one slide across his hip to palm his sack briefly, teasingly. ]
Very good, my pet. Now let’s hear you sing.
[ his mind reels looking for what he’d want if their positions were reversed, trying to ignore how public this is. He bends down, placing a kiss on Olivine’s back, then another, then taking the soft swell of flesh in his mouth and biting hard while his fingers dig into the man’s thighs. ]
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Olivine half-watches the approach, noting him more by the soft warmth that comes to hover just behind him. The feeling of rough hands on his back is enough to get his heart pumping more still, hips jolting at the squeeze of one at his sack. It earns a needy little groan, and Olivine lets his head dip down a little.]
As—you wish...
[His voice is a little breathy, eyes closing as warm lips caress his back, drifting over strong muscles until—
Until Basch bites down, digging fingers into his thighs and (perhaps accidentally) drawing Olivine to arch and shift, legs spread a little obscenely wide.]
Ah—haah... like that...
[fingers grip the cushion he's perched over, eyes closing as his lower body leans into the rough sensations. The thought that people are still watching is there, but it fades into something more distant as his thoughts turn toward making this at least a little pleasurable for them both.]
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And it's...really attractive, the way Olivine grips the couch, body taut and trembling. It's pleasing to see that. He can focus on that. He can do this.
But he also doesn't want to hurt him, not in ways that aren't intentional. ]
Be patient [ he admonishes, even though he thinks the other is extremely patient, given the circumstances. He gives his ass another bite, a slap on the other cheek before he pulls away, hoping the sudden lack of feeling will be teasing and not just awkward. But he opens the drawers in the tables, assuming--
Yes. There's lubricant, thankfully sealed. He twists it open, rolling some in his hands to warm it. As he does, he stands close enough Olivine can feel his heat but not so close they are touching.
Gods he feels so awkward. He has no idea if this is right, or if he should do more, or less, ask more feedback, give more commands. All he can do is try to muddle through. ]
You look so flushed and pretty, with your ass up waiting for me. Should I be kind, or should I make you wait?
[ Talking helps. Gives him a character, reminds him who he's supposed to be. Hands lubed, he steps forward, slotting one arm through Olivine's legs to drag a single finger down his legs and across his sack. ]
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I'm try—nngh!
[God, but it makes him ache for more, the sting of each bite and slap more enticing than the blond could really know. similarly, more than he knows, there may be no need to worry about hurting him, but that's also neither here nor there, buried in the way his insides ache for more.
the return of heat so close to his bare skin is a boon, his words drawing up little shivers as Basch speaks them. Olivine... has to wonder how many times he's been in this position, given their earlier conversation. but he has to focus, too.]
Haah... ah... I've been waiting so long... I don't know how much longer I can wait. Won't you please be kind to me?
[there is enough of a sly undertone to that that Basch could pick up the option there, though taking it at face value is certainly easy enough. Olivine won't mind either path, in the end.
he does shiver when an arm slips between his legs to draw a finger over them, slick with lube and hot against his neglected skin. a little whine escapes in turn, hips shifting impatiently at the teasing.]
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[ There's a low chuckle to his voice, a genuine warmth at how wound up Olivine is. ]
If you make a mess early, I shall have to walk you upstairs naked like this, with everyone to see the shame of my still being hard.
[ A threat he'd enjoy, and that's all he has to go off. But he doesn't intend to withhold. Even with this pressure, he wants to satisfy, and Olivine gave him a clear map. He brings his hand back up, finger circling the other's entrance a few times as he leans forward, dragging the bulge in his undergarments against Olivine's leg. He considers his position, then, with no warning, slides a finger deep into the other man, free arm going to sling around his waist and pull him close, body curling over him so he can bite his neck.
His goal is to see how loud he can get him, and maybe some begging, and then he will gladly give him what he wants. And if he comes before that, well, it's not matter to Basch, really. ]
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I won't... haaah. Wouldn't... do that to you... mm.
[though really, that's up to Basch in the end. Olivine has a decent thread of self-control, but it has a limit. the other feels hot against his leg, even through cloth, and it's almost worse than the brush of a finger against his entrance. almost.
and Basch is in for a treat, by the first noise Olivine makes when his finger slides in, deep and insistent, weight pulled back into the warmth of another body. it's made louder still by another bite, fingers curling in the fabric beneath them, burying into it. immediately, it's not enough, but when is it ever?
for a moment he just waits, in spite of the way his whole body twitches and seems to beg for more all on its own, hazy gaze turned up to watch the blond as much as he can. he wants to ask for more, though. it won't be long before impatience hits, he knows.]
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He's not expecting how vocal Olivine is, perhaps because he is so used to needing to be quiet, or being the one coaxed to loudness. There's no resistance, just sheer pleasure.
He's surprised, too, that Olivine waits. Perhaps that's part of the game for him, what with the way he's looking back so expectantly.
Basch slowly slides his finger out and back in. ]
How is that, pet? Do I keep you well?
[ He knows it is not enough; it shouldn't be, if he wishes to be fucked into the sofa, but it is good to build tension. ]
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to be honest, it surprises him too, though. whatever the case, his gaze hazes over once Basch's finger starts to move, easing out and back in.]
Haah... [agonising. it's agonising to wait when he knows what he wants, but he likes this.] I think you're trying—to make me lose my mind... master.
[of course it's not enough, not by a long shot, but at least the other is so close, bent so sweetly over him. he can work with that.]
I want... more... nngh. Please...
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What would you do if I gave no more? [ he growls, slowing his hand and leaning away from Olivine, decreasing contact but standing close enough the other can still sense him. ] Would you wait, patiently, or would you fuck yourself against my hand?
[ Still, it pangs something in him to hear Olivine ask. So direct, so sweet. He's never been on this end of things, not like this, and it feels like getting an entirely new angle on himself, even if their preferences aren't perfectly aligned.
He won't be withholding that strongly, in the end, but he hopes the threat of it is pleasing. ]
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Ah... haah... I would try... to wait, of course. But I don't know if I could stop myself.
[he neither suspects not expects Basch to hold out too long—honestly, he's really just following the blond's lead here in the grand scheme of it. picking up what feels good, of course, and firmly keeping everything in the context of here and now, the roles they've chosen—but he wants to be careful not to overstep, even if he's not been warned of any possibility of that.]
I want to be a good pet... but I'm only so strong. [there's a soft purr to it, almost a promise really.]
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You are an excellent pet, even if you are weak. [ He strokes his knuckles down Olivine's back, admiring the musculature and beautiful skin, such a soft contrast to his own. Then he slaps his ass again, hard, before leaning back to bite the other cheek again, encouraging the other to squirm against his unmoving hand. ]
It is a beautiful weakness [ he murmurs against his skin, free hand moving to cup his sack, knowing he's not providing enough stimulation. The weaker Olivine gets to his own desire, the more he'll enjoy being fucked. ]
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Haaah... thank you... master... [for the compliment, clearly. and less clearly, for the rough treatment, as his hips jolt and shift against that unmoving hand, rocking between it and the gentle hold over his sack. not enough, no—the priest can take more than most, in fact—but that's the point. a shiver slides down his spine, lip worried between teeth. only a moment, really, before he breaks.]
Please... I need more of you... I still feel so empty...
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Wrap this one?
sounds good!