![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
TDM 003
| TDM 003: #BEACHBUMS |
I. BEACH  Welcome arrivals, new and old! The skies on Erku may be perpetually gray, but the weather has taken a sudden turn to summertime heat. Fortunately, soaring temperatures have chased away more of the strange fog that conceals so much of the island, unveiling a charming, sandy cove dotted here and there with rustic love shacks. These shabby little lean-tos are dusty and sparse, but they provide everything one (or two, wink wink) might need for a little relief from the sun. Just don’t wander too far... that fog has memory-loss properties. II. DRINKS  The 'bots are very apologetic about the whole fog incident, and they are trying to get on the new arrivals' good sides by giving out fancy drinks. Of course, they still haven't mastered the art of making things properly, so each drink has a little something... extra.
III. SNACKS  Lo! As you ask, the Augur shall provide. Thanks to the efforts of your organic predecessors in restoring the planet’s Eros energy, edible fishes and seaweeds have returned to the ponds and the shores of Erku. If you fancy yourself savvy to basic survival skills, why not fashion up a fishing rod and catch yourself dinner? Just be careful if you happen to hook one of the octopus creatures from the deeper waters - they can be quite forward with their tentacles! Or, if primitive angling isn’t in your repertoire, you can always trade some credits for a tasty catch from one of the food stalls along the coast. Most stalls are manned by 'bots, but there’s nothing stopping an enterprising arrival from setting up shop. No credits? No problem! The robots have also provided a bit of entertainment, and any volunteers to man the kissing booth, get dunked in the wet t-shirt dunk tank, or grill up some fish - among other opportunities - will find credits automatically loaded onto the payment app of their bracelet devices. The 'bots are recruiting especially hard for participants to work in the gloryhole tent! IV. SPARKLES  As dusk descends, the white sands of the beach suddenly come alive with glittering lights. It’s as if the darkened waters have carried a thousand shining stars from the depths of the sea to the shores of the cove. In actuality, each little twinkle is a bioluminescent plankton or jellyfish! Feel free to wade among them and admire their shine; even the sting of the jellies won’t hurt you... though they do pack a different punch. The tentacles of the jellyfish elicit a powerful aphrodisiac response, which gets the heart racing and the blood pumping for an intimate touch. The effects come on within a matter of minutes, and last for a few hours. Only time will relieve the symptoms, but a partner will help to make it more bearable. N A V I G A T I O N |
no subject
Jeremiah can't remember the last time he needed to lean upwards to reach someone's mouth, enough that that guiding hand is necessary to tip him into the unfamiliar stretch. As if he could pull away with the hold in his hair, as if he's about to. The other man's aggression had stunned him at first, but the drag of his tongue spurs Jeremiah to push right back, meeting the firmness of his touch. Rough is good, rough gives him little time to think and more time to give some back of what he gets, and oh, what he gets is so sweet.
No one should be allowed to kiss like this. It's as dangerous as the rest of him, he thinks once they break apart, knowing the heat in his face and faintest huff to his breath will tell him everything.]
What on earth... [Jeremiah's still looking ahead as he says it, stepping forward, not caring to stop himself. They're close, so close, not quite pressed together yet no space is really left between them. He looks in lieu of being able to turn, more pointedly glancing to the bots to indicate what he'd meant. Oh god, are they closer now too?
He braces a hand on McGillis's arm, focusing his attention back once he can't meet their onlookers any longer. He's still not understanding, but that eye of his flicks down to his lips for long enough to ask for him, even if he doesn't strain forward first.]
no subject
Except he stops.
McGillis stops. Everything stops, everything at once, although McGillis remains within striking distance. He glances back up at Jeremiah, his teeth so close to his skin. So close and yet so far and McGillis will take this opportunity to warn him, because he's cocky enough and condescending enough for the arrogant words that follow.]
If I bite now, you won't be able to go back.
[And even a proud man, a stubborn man, should understand what he means by that. Especially with such an intentional expression.]
no subject
But the hand settled on his spine isn't enough to fully ward off the chill of eyes on him. Robots aside, they're still in the middle of everything, both of their heights enough to still be seen over the circle surrounding them regardless. Around them, the world seems just a little too bright, too loud in his periphery.]
If so, I'd have to question your choice of locale.
[You expect him to gamble with his composure, his decency? Here? Or was that the play all along, to push until he prompted them to step away from his post first?]
I understand you require our audience for demonstration, but I'd rather not make a scene.
[Nor is this the kiss McGillis offered, and he's been given an out first. But warnings are to be heeded by those afraid to challenge power, and his lingering irritation still has part of him wanting to prove him wrong.]
no subject
McGillis can tolerate bratty behavior, but he draws the line at orders and obedience. He doesn't like it, being told what to do and how to do it. And he certainly doesn't like any attempts at a lecture, which he senses in those words—but I'd rather not. He can respect no and he can respect the line of consent, but he absolutely won't respect that sort of casual chastising.
So his eyes flick upward, churning like a silent storm, and he simply states:]
I don't care.
[And he doesn't specify, because he doesn't have to, before sinking teeth into that supple neck and delivering a nasty bite.]
no subject
Teeth catch on his skin, and Jeremiah remembers too late that he's been compromised. McGillis latches on hard, harder than he'd expected and perhaps harder than he might have otherwise. The pain that sears through him is still what surprises him the most, his face contorting in a silent cry. A raw feeling scraping on his nerves with so much more ugly, vivid detail than he remembers. It's probably not how things always felt, he'd simply forgotten what it was like to be so fragile on the surface.
Jeremiah falters just the slightest, his free hand grasping suddenly for an anchor and thus finding the back of McGillis's head, sinking into his hair. Movement catches his eye as a few of the robots begin peering around more boldly now, keen to find a better viewpoint. No amount of glaring back as if expecting courtesy to magically intervene, of course, does Jeremiah any good. Gritting his teeth against the throb of pain in his neck, willing his panting to ease, he closes his eyes instead and grasps tighter. A stern warning, one he should understand, but nothing more.]
no subject
And truth be told, he was tempted to do much worse than bite. Because he knows that look, the haughty airs of the nobility, thumbing their noses at him; speaking in hushed tones and spinning awful rumors the second his back was turned. A self-made man, that McGillis Fareed, so sharp and so smart—but so dirty too. A filthy boy from the street, a nasty little wretch.
Well, he thinks, that last part hasn't changed.
He was tempted to do much worse and to tear through flesh and yet he refrains. Jeremiah screws those eyes shut and yet there was no need. McGillis heeds him, if a bit late, drawing back and preserving what was left of that ailing dignity. Holding out his hand, expectant, one of the robots deposits a can of rations on his palm. To regain Jeremiah's attention, he slams it down.]
Payment for services rendered.
[Compared to just moments prior, his words are stiff and clinical. Displeased.]
Sexual activity will earn you much more, but that would be the gist of it.
no subject
Only some of his surprise is from the shift in demeanor. Jeremiah's managed to offend him more deeply than he'd thought. An eye for an eye, though it still feels like a splash of cold water.]
... that direct, then. [His expression settles, picking up the can to examine it. So many things here are drugged it wouldn't make sense that a proper "reward" for their behavior would be too, but he'll have to try it to know for sure.]
I see. This really is all they're concerned with. [It's not even posed as a question, he just needs to hear it from himself. A reminder that appealing to reason would still be pointless.] Then I must thank you for your guidance, McGillis.
[Even if he offered it crudely.]
no subject
[Good going, Jeremiah. This has officially turned into a transaction.]
no subject
The can feels much heavier in his hand.]
I don't believe so, no.
no subject
[McGillis eyes the rusty can, then decides to leave it as a souvenir. And to turn his back, much coldly than he had come, staring at the shore and the waves that lap at the sand. His brow furrows, as if deep in contemplation, but no stirring words follow. Just something that might read as a warning.]
Beyond that... I suppose it isn't any of my business, but...
[...no, he had definitely misspoken. A man like this would struggle if he couldn't learn how to get along.]
no subject
He sets the can back down, glancing first to that same distance, then to the other man. A few blonde strands on the back of his head still sit askew.]
Ask away. [His tongue was practically down Jeremiah's throat not too long ago. A few things have already been made his business.]
no subject
[Not so much a question as a critique, although ice cold as opposed to searing hot. His pride may have been ruffled, but even as a street rat, there was a certain degree of decorum he must uphold. There was a certain front that he had to present to the world, or else threaten his charismatic image. Never let them see you sweat, or in this case, never let them see you stew.
But boy, was he stewing.]
If you intend to hide that here, then you will need to do a much better job of it. Among other things.
no subject
I intended to hide nothing.
[And he's not going to go apologizing for his own standards, either, as if that would help. Jeremiah's way is what it is, it always has been, and no measure of agony or insanity or abolished social castes can rip from him some of those principles. In part the airs and frivolities, yes, but also the core pillars that have become his very strength. They no longer belong to anyone else, not his homeland, not his emperor, not his father's name. They're his and his alone.
He'd ask if there's a problem with that, but McGillis's review speaks for itself. What's left unsaid, he imagines, can't be much nicer.]
What gave the impression I was trying to?
no subject
[And oops, looks as though he just said the rest of it aloud. No, it isn't anything like nice, though he's backing to smiling again—but that might not be the best sign. That's what happens when you tell a tyrant no, or close enough to it that he reads everything the wrong way. Or the right way, the way that seems way too much like rejection.]
Because if I smell it on you the next time, I really will eat you alive.
[What a nasty, nasty sneer.]
no subject
Perhaps it's not so literal. It wouldn't matter what it was; to someone critical of class and titles, his very nature absolutely would stink of blue blood. Yet surely a man who had earned the title of Brigadier General was used to brushing elbows with such types, unsavory to him on a personal level or not.]
Consider the warning heeded.
[And he may disappoint a second time. If McGillis knew men well in an intimate sense, he also knew their ways wouldn't always change so easily, or so readily.]
no subject
Essentially, Jeremiah had pushed back—and in a way he didn't particularly care for. And he won't forget that either.
There was no further discussion to be had. McGillis merely grunts and takes his leave but not before slinging one last insult, even if it sounds like concern.]
Do better for yourself.
[Which could mean anything or nothing at all. One of the robots follows him on the way out and promptly gets punched for its trouble, perhaps an ominous sign of trouble yet to come.]
no subject
Jeremiah reaches his hand up, touching the side of his neck. The pain has dulled to a burn but the indents are deep, still a little slick from McGillis's mouth. His hand falls away nearly as quickly, and he picks up a napkin from the stack nearby, wiping his fingers. Not out of disgust, just to be clean, to chase the feeling off.
Until the next time, as he'd said. The island was only so large, it certainly would come to pass.]