ercookies | TDM 010: PARTNER UP, PARTNER

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!tdm

TDM 010: PARTNER UP, PARTNER

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” barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home.

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I. Laid Bare Basics

There is a new addition to the scenery at the beach, and everyone is welcome! Especially new arrivals, who will be ushered to the recently-established Laid Bare Spa, where (provided they don't slip away from the bots' helpful grasp) their uncomfortably wet, sandy clothing will be stripped away and they will be lovingly pampered by the cold metal hands of the resident robots. Long-time Islanders and newbies alike are welcome to enjoy such amenities as hot and cold baths, sauna rooms, scrub-downs, thorough whippings with birch brooms, skin treatments, massage and energy work, and more! All rooms are thoughtfully decorated with tasteful murals of naked and disrobing bodies.

Maybe you'll see someone you recognize?! (Maybe you'll see... you?)

Islanders who happen to find their clothing mysteriously missing are welcome to borrow a Laid Bare branded towel to cover up with on their way home.

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II. Tattoo to You, Too

The Augur understands that sometimes, it's difficult to find a partner to indulge you in those favorite Auspicious Acts - especially for new arrivals, but surely even long-time residents could benefit from a little assistance now and then. That is why ever-benevolent entity has gifted Her precious Islanders with tattoos which feature their most secret, urgent, and/or shameful of desires! (Even if that desire is to simply complete a Bingo.)

The tattoo may be a picture or a word, and it can appear anywhere on the body. At first it is pleasantly warm to the touch, like a soft glow of light on your skin. It soon becomes apparent - through either robot advice or a notification on your communication device - that your task is to find a match for your tattoo and complete the depicted act with that person. The longer one goes without completing the act, the more the tattoo seems to heat up, until it feels like it is burning into your skin.

Take too long, and the tattoo may become permanent. Otherwise, the tattoo will fade within hours of completing the Auspicious Act.

[ For TDMers: feel free to select any favorite kink for this prompt! If you complete a kink that doesn't appear on your card, you may switch one square for the completed kink. For current players: by participating on (tagging into) this TDM, you may switch one kink into your card (it must be the kink in the toplevel prompt you responded to). ]

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III. Creepy Crawly Caterpillar Crawl

Are you on the hunt for credits? Then have the robots got a task for you! The 'bots of the Nameless Island are recruiting Islanders to go bug collecting in the caves, crevices, and hollowed-out logs of the wilderness. The quarry? The (shudder - literally, the robots will shudder) doom-summoning harbinger bug. They describe these creepy creatures as fat, fuzzy, and rainbow-colored, with long, fluffy antennae that look like rabbit's ears.

The robots describe these critters as so dangerous that Islanders should only hunt them in pairs. Should your team return successful, you both will be rewarded very handsomely for every caterpillar caught!

The bugs are typically very docile and seem to enjoy soft pets, judging by the cooing and squeaking noises they make (especially to scritches behind their "ears"). Poke or disturb them however, and they may bite! Body parts bitten by angry caterpillars will swell up cartoonishly, and can only be treated by having someone else suck the venom out. Good thing you're traveling with a partner!

The 'bots strongly recommend against keeping these little buggies as pets, but they're not your dad.

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N A V I G A T I O N

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The squeeze is comforting and familiar, and his friend's weight against him is comforting and familiar, but being teased like that isn't. But two minutes ago wasn't Caspar wondering what was going on? Why is he now the one wondering what is happening? Why does this always happen?

He jumps when the feather falls on his midsection, laughing sharply. Ticklish. He shakes his head Caspar's question, "Caspar, I'm not so..."

So what? He checks in with his partners, why is the idea of being checked-in with so strange? It just is. It's strange to be on this side of it. To be the recipient of such care and concern.

Linhardt smiles and shakes his head again, this time at himself, "Thank you, Caspar."

Caspar is glowing with happiness, especially to be rewarded with that laugh. He scribbles the feather tip there playfully before returning to slower strokes. He can't help but feel giddy.

I'm going to paint your body with this feather. The thought smacks him squarely in the back of his mind like a ton of bricks. He actually gives a startled laugh at himself.

"Boy howdy, this place really does it to you, doesn't it?" He chuckles, "Hand me that other feather, would ya?" He has two hands after all, and not only is this clearly making Linhardt feel good, it's making him feel good, in more ways than one.

"Also... hey. Um. Can I kiss you?" This as he's dragging those soft tines up further to the cleft of Linhardt's chest.

When Caspar is happy, it's as though his body can't contain the emotion and it spills to those around him. Linhardt gasps in laughter and squirms when Caspar tickles him, "Caspar!"

At least he stops, though. Linhardt lets himself breathe and enjoy the slow strokes of the feather on his body, it's oddly gentle from someone like Caspar that Linhardt knows as an overflowing weight of enthusiasm. He peeks one eye open to look at his friend.

"This feather?" Linhardt holds it between his fingers, "Someone very important gave me this feather for a special occasion. I can't just go around handing it to anyone." He pretends to consider this very important request, "I suppose, since it's you." Linhardt kisses the tip of the feather and presents it to Caspar, "Especially since I don't need one."

Linhardt calls up the barest wisp of power and uses the air to tickle the back of Caspar's neck, only to stop and look up at Caspar seriously when he mentions the island, "Are you alright?"

Well.

Apparently, he is, judging by the next question. It's so innocent, Linhardt has to fight the urge to reach up and kiss Caspar himself.

"Yes, Caspar, you can. I'd like that."

"Sorry, sorry! You're just so-" He struggles with the word, "Pretty when you smile. But I swear I'll let you get me back ok?"

He grins so wide it looks like it almost hurts. "Promise I'll take good care of it, cross my heart." He takes the feather, passing the tip over his own lips as if to somehow absorb that kiss off of it. The magic gets him though, and he gives a delighted bark of laughter.

"Yeah, I am I just like. Y'know. Feels a little warm all of a sudden." No matter that he's blushing all the way down his neck. He works his hands back under his friend's shirt, now armed with two of the soft owl plumes, tracing them up the contour of his torso again.

"I can? Oh that's. Awesome." He looks like he has to prepare himself, vibrating with excitement before he leans in and almost too carefully presses a kiss into Linhardt's lips. Caspar can't contain the happy hum that rises in his throat. Breaking away after just a second before deciding he needs another.

"Am I not pretty the rest of the time?" Linhardt asks, looking up at his friend with wide eyes. Of course, it's a question-trap. He loves setting question-traps for Caspar: Questions where his friend doesn't know the right answer but he knows the wrong ones? Those are hilarious.

And the fact that he's flushed and his breath is hitched doesn't mean that messing with Caspar isn't hilarious.

A bit warm. Yes. Linhardt can see that. Goddess, how is his friend so oblivious and yet so good at this? Because the return of those warm hands underneath the fabric of his shirt contrasted with the softness of the feathers makes him wriggle- Linhardt isn't sure if he wants more of Caspar's hands or more of the feathers- or both.

That's awesome? Linhardt can't help but give Caspar a flat look with a raised eyebrow, because really? But his friend makes up for his lack of eloquence with his enthusiasm, his carefulness. Linhardt would say Caspar is treating him like a delicate gift, but Caspar doesn't show this much consideration for his gifts.

He returns the kisses softly, then brushes some hair out of his face before leaning in to initiate a kiss of his own. Linhardt is slow, teasing open Caspar's mouth with his tongue and taking the time to see what Caspar likes. Should he nip at Caspar's lip? How should he move his tongue? Does Caspar like it when Linhardt pushes his way into Caspar's mouth or would he rather be guided into Linhardt's?

Eventually he breaks off because they do require air. Sadly.

He lies back and looks satisfied, licking his lips slightly, "Still 'awesome'?" Linhardt asks.

"Wh- uh, yeah! Of course you are! Duh!" He sputters for a moment but he's very familiar with this game, and he retaliates buy fluttering one of the feathers up under his arm very briefly. He's still clearly excited, nervous too. The way his hands shake a little as he's trying to be as gentle as possible, a hard task for someone who usually punches first and asks questions never.

The returned kiss, far less chaste earns a soft gasp though. He opens his mouth obediently, hesitating as he works out what he's supposed to be doing. The feeling of Lin's tongue passing against his own makes him feel dizzy. It's a good dizzy. It's not long before the excitement takes over and helps him. Caspar seems to appreciate everything. There's something thrilling about letting Linhardt push into him like that, and when he returns the gesture there's even more pleasant shivers waiting for him.

When they do finally part again, he's panting, mouth still half open. His hands are braced, still clutching the feathers that he's forgotten to move.

"Uh-huh." He nods, eyes wide with just a little awe. "I didn't know kissing could be so good." Now he's definitely shaking, his hands remember to move and he draws the feathers up further, up the mage's chest, the tines catching over the soft peak of a nipple. It's unclear if that was intentional though, the starry-eyed expression on Caspar's face doesn't betray anything other than absolute adoration at the moment.

The revenge tickling is not unexpected and yet somehow Linhardt still ends up slapping over his arm and inhaling for a laugh. Goddess, Caspar. Stop that. It's some form of torture, not knowing if he should prepare for a tickle or a caress. Which isn't an issue when they kiss, as Caspar seems to forget he has hands.

At first, Linhardt worries that he's broken his friend. He doesn't know if he could live with that: With ruining this... this innocence that Caspar has somehow managed to hold onto after everything. Linhardt couldn't. He can't. He had to feel something, after he walked off a battlefield covered in blood and realized he didn't care. How can there be innocence after that? How can there be the way that Caspar is looking at him now?

This isn't. He shouldn't be doing this. He can't be looked at like that. Caspar is thinking of a better Linhardt.

Linhardt inhales when the feather travels over his chest, gasping slightly as it trails over his nipple. He catches Caspar's eye. The man is looking at him with such love and adoration he doesn't know what to do.

Linhardt's eyes fill with tears and, not able to verbalize why, he simply rolls on his side and curls up into a ball, arms wrapping around himself and eyes scrunching shut.

It feels a little helpless, watching this unfold. He can see the gears turning for Linhardt. He tucks his knees up when Linhardt curls up to better support him.

"Whoa, whoa, hey." Caspar's voice is that soft sincere tone that he reserves for a handful of people, "It's okay. What's wrong? Talk to me." His hands collect the feathers briefly, setting them aside so he can better hold his friend.

"Am I that bad of a kisser?" He tries to break the tension with a little quip but he doesn't really commit to the joke all that fully. He just draws a hand over Linhardt's back. There's a part of him that worries he's done something wrong, naturally. That's the easy conclusion to come to, but he knows Lin better than that. This is something else. "Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right? I'll do whatever I can to help you out with anything. Just say the word."

The configuration is from when they were children: Caspar lying behind him and holding him after long days of playing, Linhardt both tired from healing Caspar and worried because he understands something important is happening in the areas of the house that are still lit by candles but not knowing what. They just never changed once Linhardt grew taller than his friend. Why would they?

"No!" Linhardt's muffled voice is sure to object. No, Caspar isn't a bad kisser at all. Just an inexperienced one. Which is what makes him want to curl up and hide. How is he even supposed to explain? He doesn't know, and isn't that what he does? Explains things?

He sighs and lets himself unfurl slightly; Caspar's presence is comforting.

"It's the way you were looking at me. And how you were...are... experiencing all of this. It's clear to you that this is supposed to be for someone special."

Caspar smiles, though it's a little more strained.

"Lin. It is for someone special. I couldn't think of anyone who I'd want to do this more with." His hand strokes down that smooth green hair, tucking it behind his ear. "Before you say anything, don't tell me that you're not. Okay? I can tell that's what you're thinking isn't it? Listen, even if this whole weird mismatched events thing is what you say, don't you think my Linhardt would want you to be happy too? He's going to be okay. You on the other hand-" He thumps his free hand against his own chest, "Look like you need some Caspar von Bergliez in your life! Nothing less, no substitutions, hold your applause please."

He steals a little kiss to the top of Linhardt's head, it isn't often he has access to it, after all.

"And no, I don't care about what you did before this. It doesn't make you any less you, and really Lin? That's what matters to me. Does it make you care any less about me?"

Goddess. He can't help it, he snorts when Caspar beats his chest. His best friend has to be the most ridiculous person in Adrestia. No. In Fodlan. No. In all the worlds. Caspar just has a unique gift for being able to barrel through the world, meet it on his own terms, and never lose anything that makes him... him.

"Of course not. You're Caspar." And that is more than sufficient for him, "I could never let any version of you wander around unaccompanied."

He understands what Caspar is saying, and he accepts it with a nod, there's just something else he wants to say. Linhardt's voice is quiet when he finally speaks, head tucked under Caspar's.

"I want to care. I do. I do." Because he cares less than he used to and that's wrong. He knows it's wrong. It's wrong to walk off a battlefield and not care about the literal blood. To watch people die of terrible wounds day in and day out and feel nothing but drowsy when he couldn't find any more magical reserves.

"How can I do this when I don't care, Caspar?" His voice is full of anguish.

The liaisons he had in Fodlan didn't present this problem: They knew. They were doing what they were doing to feel something, care about something, even if it was only for an hour. And here, it's the same, isn't? Don't think about the kidnapping, just feel something. Even with people he knows. Dorothea cares about him, but she isn't trying to take care of him.

That's his job and he can't help but feel he's failing.

"Lin..." He's trying to piece together the unspoken things. "You're really hurt, aren't you?" Caspar, for better or worse is like a sponge. He just absorbs the immediate world around him and often times, that's what he projects. He's never been good at expressing himself, but it's certainly not for lack of empathy.

"Would you be hurting this badly if you didn't care? You know. Everyone deals with things differently. You know how I always make jokes and shout when I get nervous? Or when I'm sad or angry sometimes I get into ore fights than usual." Than usual. There's a quota. "Regardless of how things turned out... we've been in a war, Lin. There's no book on how to- how to be sad about things or how to feel. I mean, I don't think there is. Is there? If you really didn't care than nothing would have changed for you."

The war broke something in all of them. Even Caspar didn't get out unscathed. They all dealt with it in their own ways.

"You have always been one of the nicest people I know. I don't think that has changed, but you have this really, really bad habit of not protecting yourself. You're not a machine."

Yes. He is. That realization hits Linhardt square in the chest. That's Caspar; he always has the ability to get directly to the heart of things. Linhardt can spend months agonizing over the implications of a question, and then Caspar just comes along and answers it. He exhales and relaxes against his friend.

"You're right." If a soldier came to Linhardt with the same issues, he'd consider it a problem. He did consider it a problem, even when they were technically fine. In peak physical condition even.

Caspar is the only person Linhardt can stand being lectured by. Perhaps it's because if it's gotten to that point, Linhardt has nobody to blame except himself.

To Linhardt, carving out time for his research is protecting himself. He'd live without food or even sleep before he'd have a life where literally every waking moment was a terrifying mix of despair, fear, and boredom. But that clearly isn't enough. Or maybe it is: He's still functioning, after all, and that's all they needed.

"I wish I were. Machines are predictable." It's his usual grousing about the world not making sense. It's funny how even though this Caspar has fought against the world Linhardt is fighting for, they still fall into their roles so easily.

"Thank you, Caspar." Linhardt studies his friend closely and then leans in to kiss him softly, "I'm sorry that I worried you. I'll try to pay more attention to myself from now on."

He pauses.

"Though I'm not taking the time away from my learning. You are not going to believe the things I tell you, Caspar. Did you know there are other people like me here?"

"Oh- wait, hold on! I need to commit this moment to memory. Did you just tell me I'm right? Did I hear you correctly?" Caspar can't help the dumb grin on his face. He just squeezes Linhardt tight for a second before giving him room to breathe again. "Ahh, today is a good day."

He's about to pick at the wishing he was a machine comment, but then Linhardt thanks him, and kisses him and his mind is immediately elsewhere again.

"Other people like you, huh? I dunno. You're one of a kind. Buuut I'm glad you have some other smarties to talk to. I assume that's what you mean. Unless you have a nap club here or something." Oh, right. He brandishes those feathers again. "Did you want me to uh- continue that?"

The mood is weird, but everything is weird with them.

"There, see? You've given me motivation. If I don't exert at least some effort to care for myself, I'll need to listen to your gloating until the end of the time and I will never be able to nap again." And would that really be a life worth living? Not to Linhardt von Hevring.

"Today is a good day," He agrees, although Linhardt lets out an oomph at being squeezed like a stuffed toy.

Oh. That's interesting. It's like Caspar's brain has an 'off' button like the lightbulbs. Linhardt grins at him, "The nap club is still a work in progress." He reaches out a hand, his shirt half fallen from where Caspar had unbuttoned it earlier, and strokes the line of his jaw.

"If you would. And then maybe next time I can find more of your 'off' buttons." He yawns.

Indeed, it seems Linhardt did discover the off button. Or maybe the on button. The suggestion leaves him stammering a little bit as he quickly scoops back up the feathers and drags them up that bare skin again.

"You uh... haha. Gosh." He feels so silly having nothing good to say to that. He's just happy there's going to be a next time. This time though, he's more confident, deliberately moving up to flick the soft edge across his chest, catching along his collarbone and nipple again before dragging a line back down to his naval. Rough fingers follow after it, still a little too light as he's being very, very careful.

"Sooooo Lin." He repeats the path, focusing on whatever sensitive spots he finds, only pausing to unbutton his friend's shirt the rest of the way so he can splay a warm hand against him. "I was kind of thinking actually. I'd like to uh. Y'know. Try fooling around a bit." As if they weren't already. "Are you feeling up to it?"

Edited 2021-02-22 21:06 (UTC)

This is fun. Linhardt briefly wonders if it makes him a hypocrite how much he enjoys embarrassing Caspar, but comes to the conclusion no, it doesn't. It's more that now he understands the appeal and can also understand why some people may find embarrassing him amusing as well.

"Words, Caspar." Linhardt scolds his friend, though the fake anger melts away under Caspar's fingers and the feathers. At first, he lies back and enjoys the sensation, eyes closed, and hums a happy hum in the back of his throat, which turns into a full-throated moan when Caspar's fingers brush over a nipple, the roughness of his fingers a wonderful contrast to the light touch of the feather. It wouldn't have normally gotten such a reaction, but taking things so slowly means that every centimeter of Linhardt's skin is primed for touch.

The shirt falls away and reveals what Caspar already knows: Linhardt is all slim, pale porcelain skin with a dusting of soft green hair under his navel. Rather than vanity, it's a simple extension of his healing ability: It's hard to acquire things like scars, sunburns, or other skin damage when you heal in your sleep.

He opens one blue-violet eye, "Oh, you would?"

Linhardt pretends to consider this request, "We can do that. Do you want to take your clothes off? Do you want me to take your clothes off? Or just me?"

It might be best to give Caspar options so he doesn't hear 'yes' and shut down entirely. Because Linhardt isn't sure fainting is completely out of the question.

"Oh Goddess." Caspar's voice is just a squeak from overwhelm for a moment as he runs his once-again shaking hands over his friend's stomach and chest. "Really pretty. Okay. Whew." It's not like he hasn't seen Lin naked before. Just... not like this. Context is everything. Not stretched taught over his leg and breathing like that and looking up at him. He has to squeeze his eyes shut a moment to stop himself from melting right there.

...Aaaand then there's that question, casual tone, like he's talking about a book he found or a nap except he's asking if Caspar wants to get naked.

"Oh uh. Oh man. Ohhhhhhhh man. I-" Choices are hard and he's mostly just making mouth sounds right now while he tries to calm his excitement. "Whew is it dizzy out here or is it just me? Uh, can I- option two? You wanna. Maybe take my armor off that would be... nice." Definitely not a fantasy he's had before. Nope.

Okay, those are technically words, even if Caspar can't seem to manage sentences. The words do just fine, though, in fact, Linhardt turns bright red at the open admiration to the point where he grabs his now discarded shirt and tries to press it over his face because he too is momentarily overwhelmed by how Caspar is looking at him. Not that it hides his reaction since his chest also turns beet-red and Caspar can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

He peeks out from behind the fabric to smile at Caspar or rather, at Caspar's lack of eloquence, "Yes, Caspar, option two will be just fine."

Linhardt yawns and sits up, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back to give Caspar a good look at the view he just deemed 'really pretty'. Then he reaches out and starts to unlatch the clasps on Caspar's armor, "Arms above your head."

"Hah!" It does help to know that he's not the only one who's flustered over the whole situation. It feels like a silly game of chicken except they're both intent on not stopping, despite everything.

The view doesn't go unappreciated though, and he slides his hand down again, liking the feeling of soft skin under his calloused fingers.

"All right." Obediently, he does as he's told, grinning dumbly as he holds his arms straight up and lets Linhardt take care of his armor.

In response, Linhardt balls up his shirt and throws it at Caspar's head. It misses, but he's communicated what he's needed to with the gesture. It's Caspar's fault for looking at him like that, as though he's a Wonder of the World.

He visibly shivers when Caspar touches him; Linhardt likes the contrast. He likes the feeling of his friend's rough fingers on his skin. To demonstrate this, he takes one of Caspar's hands and kisses the finger pads gently before turning his attention to Caspar's armor.

Linhardt lifts the armor off and sets it gently on the ground, then turns his attention to Caspar's shirt, which he also lifts up over his friend's head.

"Much better." He declares.

The scholar takes the opportunity to examine Caspar, running his fingers over Caspar's neck and collarbone, his shoulders, down his sides and up his torso. Linhardt has to admit the aesthetic result of all that training is exceptional. Everything about Caspar's form embodies strength. He takes the opportunity to lean in and press a kiss to Caspar's neck, letting his hair fall and caress his friend's skin.

Good to know he can still embarrass him. There's comfort in that, in a way. Probably not for Linhardt but Caspar feels like it's his job to give him the occasional ribbing. It feels so odd to be on the receiving end of that slow, attentive affection. Everything is a surprise for him right now, and all delightful.

"Like what'cha see?" He can't keep his mouth shut too long. When he's finally unburdened of his armor and shirt, he takes a deep breath. Lin is examining him. Sure he's examined him before but never like this. Never with touching like this. He shivers happily, leaning into the touch like a happy dog.

"Oh jeez." He chuckles, the kiss on his neck having more of an effect on him than he expected. "You're really soft." It prompts him to put his hands on Linhardt's shoulders, squeezing once before sliding them down to rest on his hips and pull them together. A bold move even for him, given the fact that he's painfully hard under his trousers already, and he doesn't bother to hide it at this point.

"Mmmhmmm," Linhardt responds to the boastful question. He does like what he sees. Caspar is in excellent shape, of course, and there's just something about Caspar's every freckle, tan line, and scar that are immensely fascinating to him. Caspar's body is a story; a contrast with his own blank canvas.

He gasps when Caspar brings their hips together; Linhardt isn't quite as hard as Caspar, but he's certainly on his way. The mage reaches his hands out to cup Caspar's cheeks and he leans in to give Caspar a long, slow, thoughtful kiss.

"Does this mean you'd like me to touch you?"

Linhardt runs a hand around the edge of Caspar's trousers experimentally, drawing back to look him in the eyes as he does so.

Oh that's so very nice. He returns the kiss, a little bit overeager as always, making a small happy noise against Linhardt's mouth.

"Yes yes yes!" It seems he's getting bolder, still full of nervous energy but it's all for Linhardt at the very least. "Please." Well, at least he remembered to be polite this once.

He still has that look on his face though. The absolute zest for life, fully engaged in the moment. Nowhere he'd rather be, and seeing his best friend in a very new light. His fingers dip into the waist of Linhardt's pants as well, tugging lightly, wanting to push them down.

Who knew Caspar could ever make small sounds? It's cute. Linhardt tries to guide Caspar; his friend doesn't want for enthusiasm, but there's no harm in taking their time.

'Yes, yes, yes!' Suddenly it occurs to Linhardt that it might be very nice to hear that vocalization in conjunction with Caspar throwing his head back. Maybe moaning, even, "To think you even said please." He teases, reaching his hands down to unlace Caspar's trousers.

Linhardt shifts onto his knees to allow Caspar easier access to his own trousers, to slide them off if he wishes. His own attention is back on Caspar, and Linhardt carefully draws Caspar's cock out of his trousers, his fingers gentle up until he wraps his hand around Caspar's cock and firmly strokes him while his other hand reaches around Caspar to steady him. Linhardt dips down and nuzzles into Caspar's neck, nipping at and kissing the exposed skin.

00. Arrival

I. Laid Bare Basics

II. Tattoo to You, Too

III. Creepy Crawly Caterpillar Crawl

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CW: War discussion, PTSD

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