TDM 009: I'M IN LIKE WITH YOU

[erkumods]

TDM 009: I'M IN LIKE WITH YOU

00. Arrival This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● I. STARGAZER On the first night that new arrivals wash ashore, the moon rises. It's full and beautiful and surrounded by stars. The robots quickly bring old, dusty telescopes out of storage and line them up on the beach to help people get a truly spectacular view. "Look to the heavens! Behold, the chicken, the cat, the owl, the donkey!" It's... the cock, the pussy, the hooters, and the ass. For the rest of the night, characters will become fixated on the specific asset associated with the constellation they've gotten an eyeful of. Whether this leads to some body worship or just casual appreciation is up to you. You can learn about the stars and constellations later this month in some of the rare, non-pornographic books in the library. (More info will go up soon, so please be patient!) ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● II. STIMULATING CONVERSATION An ancient courting ritual has been announced! It involves the give-and-take of candy hearts with slogans printed on them. Of course, since these hearts are being manufactured by robots, their sense of taste is a little... off? Or perhaps off-putting? "You'll do." "5/10." "Acceptable." "Sloppy Seconds." Receiving a negative heart makes one feel insecure, jealous, and submissive. "Be mine." "Nicest ass." "Swell bulge." "They're good lays, Bront." Receiving a positive heart will make one feel confident, boastful, and dominant. Your friendly neighborhood 'bots will give them out to anyone who asks - and maybe even those who don't. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● III. Eat Or Dare The robots have set up a stall by the beach with a banner that reads: Eat Or Dare. They have procured bigger candy hearts than ever before -- fist-sized and larger -- with actions written on them instead of derogatory slogans. "Take a dive." "Lick me." "Get handsy." The name of the game is to follow the instructions or forfeit the challenge by making the evidence disappear into your mouth. Delicious! Those who eat the candy hearts will feel themselves getting giddy and unreasonably invested in the love affairs of others. They will feel compelled to play matchmaker to spread the cheer. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● N A V I G A T I O N

Comments

[idratherbeasleep]

Yes, that's true.

[Ugh. Geese. Linhardt is generally neutral on the subject of animals, but geese are an animal he's not particularly fond of. They have Hubert's temperament and Ferdinand's enthusiasm, and it is, in Linhardt's opinion, a terrible combination.

Ugh. Stairs. He follows Dorothea up the stairs, not bothering to pretend he's not staring at her backside. It gives him some motivation to climb, if nothing else.

It's true Linhardt has stayed in much nicer places. It is also true that Linhardt has slept outside and in war camps, so he's not particularly picky.]

Agreed. At least we're inside and we have some privacy.

[And there's a bed. Bed, sweet bed. Linhardt sighs with contentment and reaches his arms over his head to stretch. True to Dorothea's warning, however, there were no pillows or blankets. Not that it has ever stopped Linhardt from napping before; he has excellent improvised bedding creation skills.

Without warning or heedless of what it might look like, Linhardt starts unbuttoning his overcoat, unclipping his broach and shrugging it off followed by his vest and undershirt, then leaning down to unbuckle his boots and slide them off, leaving him clad only in his pants. Hmm. He considers his options. If they're sharing the bed, then heat shouldn't be an issue. Linhardt picks up the clothing and starts folding it, eventually producing two awkward bundles of cloth that could serve as makeshift pillows. He offers one to Dorothea, eyes only straying a moment before he controls himself enough to look her in the eye.

Oh. That reminds him. He never asked.]

Why did you avoid eye contact earlier?

[That was why he'd been curious enough to start a conversation, after all.]

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea finds herself staring when Linhardt begins to disrobe, surprised and a little flustered (but not actually upset about it, she realizes). When he turns back to speak with her, she finds her eyes again inexorably drawn to his sternum--his body is toned if not overtly muscular. He's not Raphael by a long shot, but he's pleasant to look at.

Which means that, again, she doesn't register his question until half a second after he's asked it. ]

Wh--oh. I...

[ Oh Goddess. She sighs, hating that she's going to have to explain this now. ]

I wasn't trying to avoid eye contact, Lin. I was looking at you. At... your body, I mean. I can't seem to help myself.

[idratherbeasleep]

[Ah, so the effect does extend to people the... victim...? isn't normally drawn to. It is hard to tell using only himself as an example, he finds most people physically appealing. But then again, Dorothea had made the same assumption and it had been erroneous.]

I don't mind you looking. I like it, actually.

[He enjoys being looked at. Linhardt puts effort into his appearance: caring for his hair, commissioning outerwear to work with his eyes and his hair, the use of a crisp white to offset the color and draw attention to his skin. He knows what he's doing. He likes being looked at and examined.

Linhardt gives her an encouraging smile.]

Is this a completely new attraction?

[He isn't going to be offended by either answer; it just might make a difference how the spell(?) actually worked.]

[backstreetbard]

[ It shouldn't surprise her that Linhardt enjoys being looked at. Who doesn't like being appreciated? She supposes that in her mind, she's so used to him being the sleepy, bookish sort that she didn't consider that he's also a physical being with wants and needs beyond said sleep and books. A blush crawls up her neck and over her cheeks, but she gives a little shake of her head. ]

No, not exactly. I always thought you were attractive, Lin. It's just that if I'm going to stare at someone's chest, it's usually someone who has... more there, if you understand my meaning.

[ She steps forward, extending her hand, but she pauses. ]

May I?

[idratherbeasleep]

[His eyes travel downward again. Yes, he understands her meaning. Quite well.]

I do understand, yes.

[Oh, that's interesting. She's blushing. That's rare. Linhardt takes her answer with his usual stride and answers by reaching out and guiding Dorothea's hand to his chest, pressing her open palm to his skin above his heart. Oh. Being touched is more intense than it usually is. His breath hitches in his throat. Breathe, Linhardt. Air is necessary for life to continue.]

Of course.

[The contact also makes his own desire to touch flare in his mind. It's disorienting, invigorating, and interesting all at once. Linhardt reaches his own hand up, hovering it over her shoulder.]

Am I permitted to return the favor?

[backstreetbard]

[ It’s so satisfying to feel the warmth of Linhardt’s skin against her own, to feel his heart beating under her palm. She’s never felt this way before from such a simple form of contact. They’d been talking earlier about how the food was drugged—was this an effect of that? If so, it’s not so bad. His reaction is even more interesting. Was he normally so sensitive?

The blush on her cheeks darkens at his question, but she nods. It only seems fair, and the prospect of being touched by him wouldn’t have been an unpleasant one even without their questionable circumstances.

Mirroring his earlier motion, she takes his hand and guides it first to the spot where he’ll feel her heart hammering away under her ribs, but moves it farther down to the soft flesh of her breast. There are a few layers of silk between his palm and her skin, but the contact still makes her hum softly with enjoyment. She chuckles in soft amusement. ]

How’s this?

[idratherbeasleep]

[Linhardt can't help but close his eyes; it's just so much feeling that he wants to be able to concentrate on it, savor it, commit the experience to memory. On how Dorothea moves beneath the silk; how somehow the breast contours to his hand as though it's the most natural place for his hand to rest. But then he can't help but look, either, to watch her red cheeks (he can feel his own are flushed are well, and the heartbeat under Dorothea's fingers is far from its leisurely self) and clear pleasure at the touch.]

This is exquisite.

[It's the only word that suffices, really, to describe the layers of enjoyment Linhardt is experiencing. His body is certainly happy, each movement of Dorothea's fingers sending a distractingly brain-emptying pulse of warmth from his heart to his groin, and the moments in between are a swirl of curiosity being satisfied, of seeing a friend express happiness due to his actions, and of, well...fixated lust. Just three of his favorite experiences, happening simultaneously. All that is missing is a good feeling of restedness.

Despite his respectful approach, there's nothing tentative or shy in Linhardt's explorations; his fingers and hand straying outward and making strokes of various pressures, eyes watching Dorothea closely to learn what she likes, which motions will elicit more smiles and pleased sounds.

He learns so much, touching her. Where she holds tension, how she stands... what Linhardt does next would be considered a waste of magic by some. The mage summons his healing magic, his hand glowing with a faint blue warmth that seeps into Dorothea's rib muscles, gently easing the tension and knots out of them and allowing them to relax.]

You really are remarkable.

[It's true he doesn't pester Dorothea as much as he does some of their comrades, but Linhardt knows that interest to his research and worthiness as a person are not the same. (Why would he be assisting Edelgard if he believed otherwise?)]

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea isn't surprised that Linhardt is curious or attentive. He's a man that has dedicated his life to the nigh-frightfully intense study of... well, anything that catches his interest. For the moment, that appears to be Dorothea herself. She isn't some blushing maiden who might feel overcome at the prospect of being paid attention to by a member of a noble house; she'd given Linhardt a piece of her mind earlier that very day for treating her like a test subject, after all. It's different, though, when his hands seek to visit pleasure upon her, or when he lavishes praise on her. Exquisite? Remarkable? Perhaps it is not so bad to be the center of his considerable focus.

By all rights, she shouldn't be feeling so sensitive after what amounts to a bit of light petting. Linhardt is thorough in his examination, sure, but she's still fully clothed. Maybe it's due to the fact that they're at the end of a very long, very strange day. That or the drugged food.

But Lin has to take things further, filling his hands with warm healing magic and pouring it into her tense body. The release of that tension is so abrupt that she sinks forward until her weight is leaning up against him, trembling noticeably.

Clearing her throat softly, she offers a suggestion. ]

Let's sit down, hmm? And, maybe...

[ As they sit, Dorothea seems to briefly debate her next move, but the debate is shortlived. Taking his hand again, she pulls him in a little closer, guiding it to the silver clasp at her back that holds her corset in place. It falls off in a whisper of silver fabric. ]

That's better.

[idratherbeasleep]

[Linhardt is prepared for Dorothea's slow fall forward. That happens sometimes, and although holding up his partner does require effort (something he usually avoids), it also makes him happy to be able to relax her to that degree. Linhardt laughs, something he doesn't do all that often.]

Yes, sitting is an excellent idea.

[He guides the two of them towards the bed and eases her down to sit next to him, surprised but certainly not upset when Dorothea guides his hand to the back of her corset. Linhardt feels his fingers around the clasp before undoing it, letting the garment tumble to the side.]

I'd always wondered how that worked.

[More importantly, Linhardt can finally see what he's been imagining since they began conversing, and the view doesn't disappoint. He takes a long, assessing, approving look before leaning down and pressing his lips to the swell of her right breast, unable to resist the urge. The hand that was on Dorothea's ribs travels upward to the base of her skull, Linhardt's fingers expertly massaging the warmth and the relaxation of his magic into the hard to reach muscles with confident strokes. His right hand, meanwhile, cups Dorothea's other breast, brushing his fingers lightly over her nipple. He smiles into her flesh and pulls away slightly to speak.]

Shall I continue?

[Is he teasing? It's hard to tell.]

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea is spilling out of the front of her dress, her skin warm and soft like ivory satin. Her flesh is pliant in Linhardt's hands, and she can't help but sigh as he works his magic, both figurative and literal. When he peers up at her, his face a hand's breadth from her cleavage, she chuckles at his cheek. ]

Continue? I'd say you've barely even begun.

[ Given Linhard's current state of undress, Dorothea feels like she's wearing a few too many layers. With the corset gone, all that's left is to undo the clasp at her nape, and since Lin's hands are there already, she directs his fingers again. From there, it's easy to push the red and black silk off her shoulders. The garments slide down her body, pooling around her hips and leaving her bare from the waist up. Now the playing field feels more even. ]

[idratherbeasleep]

[It takes him a few moments of stroking his fingers over the delicate, perfect skin before Linhardt realizes what the word for it is. Vitality. Dorothea is full of vitality.]

Well, it doesn't do to rush things, does it?

[His fingers unclasp the dress and trace carefully over the back of her neck, leaving trails of warmth in their wake as the man leans in to press a kiss to her breast, then takes one of her nipples into his mouth. At first, he's gentle, though he gives it a little nip as he pulls away and watches her reaction.]

Unless you're eager to move on.

[He's teasing. Linhardt takes one of her hands and squeezes it before holding it over his groin. Even though the fabric, Linhardt's interest in the situation is quite apparent.]

Believe me, I wouldn't object.

[The man leans in and presses a kiss to her jaw as he cups one of her breasts and brushes his fingers over her nipple. And so he continues, peppering her neck, collarbone, and jaw with soft kisses and exploring with his hands, varying his touches: feather-soft strokes are intertwined with careful rubs and even some small pinches, though he keeps his attention on her breathing and the tension in her body. He is exploring, learning what she likes. Paying attention is important.]

[backstreetbard]

Oh, no, it absolutely wouldn't do.

[ As good as it feels, there's something engaging about just watching Linhardt at work, the way he watches her for her reactions to his every inquiring caress. Being so attentively touched is erotic in its own way, and he certainly doesn't lake for skill or thoroughness. His mouth, his teeth, his nails--it's enough to leave her shivering, soft moans and sighs escaping as she exhales.

She's not content only to receive, though; when he delicately moves her hand, she doesn't hesitate to take a hold of him through the fabric of his trousers, grinning to feel the way he reacts to her. She massages him, lightly at first because she can be a tease if he's going to be a tease. The movements become that much more forceful as she grows more aroused, her breath coming in harder, her skin flushing a deeper shade of red. Eventually, she can barely sit still. ]

Help me get out of this.

[ Dorothea's dress, bunched up around her hips, is the last obstacle. She lies on her back and lifts her hips, trying to shimmy out of them while sliding her tights down as well. It's so much fabric. ]

[idratherbeasleep]

Exactly. The details need to be attended to.

[Because yes, that's what he wants. Those trembling muscles and the small almost musical sounds of pleasure escaping from Dorothea's mouth. He takes note of what provokes them, of what his friend enjoys. Or at least he tries; it's hard to concentrate because she's touching him. Linhardt inhales sharply and squirms unapologetically against her infuriatingly soft caresses.]

Unfair.

[He manages to exhale the word. It's a searing jolt of desire each time she brushes his groin, strong enough to empty his chattering mind. And each time it recedes, she does it again. It's exceptionally unfair.

Linhardt reaches down to lift both her dress and her tights, peeling them off carefully so as not to ruin them. He does end up distracted halfway through, leaning in to press a series of delicate kisses to the front of her legs, even laying his cheek against them before he remembers to resume undressing her. When the fabric falls on the floor, he takes the opportunity to give Dorothea a long look over, eyes memorizing each freckle, mole, and unique thing about her.

Even he's not infinitely patient, however, so he can't help but take her hand and guide it back to his cock.]

Sorry, it's just if you want... well, we need to soon.

[Because he was going to come either way, at this rate. His cheeks flushed, this time with embarrassment as well as arousal. Performing sexual acts was one thing. Talking about them was another. But Dorothea likes to talk about things.]

I really want you.

[The sentence is almost too quiet to hear.]

[backstreetbard]

[ There has always been something terribly endearing about watching Linhardt work. There's no middle ground for him--no half measures of his attention. Seeing him this way, now, though... Dorothea wants to devour him. She's always been a hungry thing, ever since she was a stray child living in the filthy back alleys of Enbarr, and part of her knows that one such as him should be beyond her reach.

That's why she sits up, hair and eyes wild, and tips him over onto the mattress. He wants her? He can have as much as he can handle.

Her mouth finds his throat, soft and warm save for the occasional drag of her teeth over his skin. She unlaces him, tugging his pants down until there's nothing but air between them, taking hold of him again and straddling his hips. ]

You're so cute right now, Lin.

[ She practically purrs as their bodies align, sighing as she lowers herself to take him in. Her hands run up his chest, up his throat, into his hair and back down again. ]

Is that enough of me? Or do you want more?

[idratherbeasleep]

[The way she's looking at him... it's thrilling. A jolt of lust runs through him when Dorothea tips him back onto the mattress. She looks like she's been lost in the desert and he's an oasis. As though he's the answer to everything she wants. It's embarrassing. He also likes it.]

Cute?

[Linhardt gasps the word; it's the most he can accomplish with those infuriatingly deft hands, that mouth with just enough bite to it for each sensation to be new and wanted.]

Cute is new. Oh Goddess...

[He can't help but close his eyes when Dorothea welcomes him; she's warm and tight and wonderful; it's as though he has a lightning rod between his legs, but it's sending the energy all throughout his body. Linhardt's hands find her hips in answer to her question.]

Yes. Yes, more.

[It's somewhere between a request and a demand, and Linhardt leans up to press their lips together. Always more. One hand curves around her hip and dips between her legs. There's a spot women have... it's always slightly different (which is fascinating). There. Linhardt's fingers stroke the pleasure-spot experimentally, breaking the kiss so he can breathe.]

More is good.

[backstreetbard]

[ She calls it like she sees it. Cute is cute. A mischievous grin curves her lips at his reaction, growing wider when his fingers dig into skin of her hips. He wants more, and she's happy to oblige him, whether it's a request or a demand.

She moans softly once their hips are flush, but then Lin busies himself being clever again in the most wonderful ways, his fingers dipping down between her thighs to part the flesh at their apex. Her whole body shudders, though the sound she makes is mostly lost in his mouth as they kiss once more. Her hips roll as if of their own volition, and she has to focus, to move, to get them both where they're trying to go. ]

More is good. More is good.

[ She sets a steady pace, though her body shudders and shivers as she gets closer to her climax. His name falls from her lips, the sounds of her passion taking a distinctly operatic tone to them. The whole building will know, by the time they're done. ]

[idratherbeasleep]

More is definitely good.

[Linhardt's enthusiasm is quieter than Dorothea's, but no less earnest; her melodious voice rings throughout the building while he simply gasps and moans whenever Dorothea takes him fully inside of her. Although singing is not a skill of his, he certainly demonstrates a basic understanding of rhythm, synchronizing the movement of his hips with her own.

There's something thrilling and almost viscerally satisfying about hearing his name called out like that. Goddess, he could listen to that for hours. If the Augur could bottle that feeling, then it would have no issue with cooperation, because how could anyone hear the pleasure of an exquisite woman like Dorothea and want to do anything else?

Alas, they are human and therefore things must come to an end eventually. Linhardt's hips stiffen as he comes, and his hands grab at her hips to hold her in close.

Afterwards, he lays back on the bed with drooping eyes and lets out a satisfied yawn.]

'M glad you're here. Good night.

[Listen, if you expected anything other than Linhardt immediately falling asleep, then you don't know him at all.]

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea's climax hits her only a second or two before his, thanks to the work of his hands, and her whole body goes tense around him as she lets out a ragged cry. In the afterglow, she almost misses Linhardt's drowsy good night, and by the time she registers what was said, he's already dead asleep with her still seated firmly on his hips.

She sighs deeply, but there's a fondness to it. She's not surprised, really.

After a moment she slips off to clean herself, returning a few moments later to snuggle up against his side for that nap she'd planned on taking in the first place. ]

Good night, Lin.