TDM 001

[erkumods]

TDM 001: TFLU

( 1 ) After leaving the teleportation chamber, you are gently coaxed out of the hospital and encouraged to find a place to stay. Maybe you've had time to check out your A5 app. Maybe you're just settling in. It's cloudy, overcast, cold -- you'll want to seek out someplace warm. Also, your device is beeping. A lot. The tech on the island works, it just doesn't work right. You can't seem to send a message to the correct person. It's time for... Texts From Last Universe ( 2 ) What's this? Your bingo card has just been beamed to a stranger's inbox...?! ( sample A5 cards -- NSFW, may contain triggering content, please feel free to use/ignore as you see fit) ( 3 ) And now you're receiving messages from other users that they don't remember sending: Nice shirt. It would look better on my floor. 10/10 would ride it into the sunset. This user thinks you're attractive. u up? 🍆 ( 4 ) Once you figure out that the robots have been hacking your devices, it's no easy feat to track one down and demand they stop. "So The Augur wills!" they wail in a monotone. "So it is done!" Any attempt to actually contact The Augur and get back into the hospital will be met with beefy robot bodyguards, who suggest taking a gentler approach to fix your devices. If you know what they mean. Wink. (This is your overt kink prompt. Please label any threads accordingly.) Note: All prompts are optional. The theme for this TDM is "malfunctioning devices." They can be fixed by indulging in the squares on your cards. For the sake of the TDM, you can use one of the pre-generated examples or a wildcard from the kink list. This can be used as a free bingo square completion once you have been accepted into the game. Players are welcome to wildcard their own TDM prompts; we only ask that you try to stick to the theme. ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● N A V I G A T I O N

Comments

[mcvillain]

A mutually beneficial exchange.

[McGillis has his limits, however, and seems to ease up—if only a little. Chowing down on virgins was fun, or men who may as well be, but he draws the line at lacking consent. He'll destroy the world, and anyone in his way, but sex was a different matter entirely. The only comfort in a beast's jaws.]

I'll take my leave if you're uninterested. Far be it me to pressure you, but I'll respect your decision either way.

[He just might not respect him as a person, although that was a given.]

[recordingends]

And you think it will accomplish something, if we... engage?

[This is ridiculous. Jon would very much like for the technology he has to actually work, and he wants answers, and if he's going to be held hostage in this place, he's going to have to figure out loopholes eventually.]

I don't suppose there's anything on yours about watching or being watched.

[mcvillain]

[McGillis points out the begging and hands squares.]

These are not overtly sexual requests. Minimal effort, and with nothing to lose.

[As for his own card... well, fair's fair. He brings it up on his device, and shows it to Jon: indeed, an astute guess. There's voyeurism, among with much worse things, like blades, bloodplay, and spanking. The last of which was a bit more vanilla, apparently to balance that whole mess out.

He doesn't look the slightest bit ashamed, either. Not that he ever is.]

[recordingends]

I can watch, [he says after a moment. Something in him is excited by the prospect, even if it’s not the kind of watching that would normally bring him satisfaction. But it’s something he can do.

As far as hands and begging... Jon’s not sure but he thinks some voyuerism could include or cover both.]

[mcvillain]

Indeed. You will be watching me.

[McGillis flashes a pleasant, charming smile. Nothing to lose, right?]

Kneel.

[recordingends]

What? Why?

[Jon takes a step back, slightly concerned that this man will make him do it if he doesn’t obey quickly enough.]

Here?

[mcvillain]

[McGillis doesn't follow, but he doesn't have to. He's a decorated general; his words are arresting enough.]

Didn't I just tell you? All three of those things are possible without sexual contact, so why hesitate?

[recordingends]

[Jon holds up placating hands as he eases to his knees. Obeying. It still doesn’t feel necessary but he’s not really in a good position to argue. His heart thunders in his chest as he lowers his hands.]

[mcvillain]

Much better. Now take it.

[Accordingly, McGillis offers his hand—elegant, refined, with long fingers that fit crisp into his glove. It's a scene reminiscent of a knight swearing fealty to a princess... or a prince, in this case, even if he's pretty enough to fulfill either role. Even if he fancies himself the pure white knight, swooping in to save the day.

He retains that smile, quirked up at its edges, and instructs Jon thus:]

I've no issue sharing my name, but in this context, address me by title: Brigadier General.

[A haughty title, but well-earned. Haughty enough to demand just about anything.]

And you will beg for my favor.

[recordingends]

[Jon frowns, but he takes the elegant hand extended to him and he realizes somewhat belatedly the sort of scene it makes. As if he were a supplicant. His face gets hot and he rather pointedly keeps his eyes on the man's face.]

Please, Brigadier General... sir... I'm--I'm humbly asking for your favor.

[God, he just wants to get through this.]

[mcvillain]

Unconvincing.

[Swing and a miss, little knight.]

Show some sincerity. Make me believe it.

[recordingends]

[He can do this. They just need to get it over with. Tension creeps into his shoulders and Jon tries not to think about the general disappointment he's experienced before. He looks down and tries to summon something sincere.]

Please, [he says again, and it sounds like begging this time. Jon closes his eyes and, without thinking, his fingers tighten their grip.] Please, I need to see.

[mcvillain]

[To see... that seemed a little too intense, writing it off as mere coincidence. He doesn't really have any genuine interest in this man's identity, or his interests, or anything else, but curiosity compels him to ask before he thinks better of it.]

See what?

[That could mean a great deal, or nothing at all. He isn't threatened by the tighter grip; just shifts his fingers to accommodate.]

[recordingends]

You. I need to see you. Please.

[It's vague, but that tone doesn't change. It's easy to channel that feeling, the one he gets when someone's about to make a statement or when he knows he can get something from them. That need to know, to See. This isn't the same, not hardly, but he can still find the feeling.]

[mcvillain]

[So all it took was a bit of nudging to get him in the mood? Not terribly surprising, since that was true of most men, but he was admittedly caught off guard by the veracity of it. That was honest, that was genuine. That he could believe in. So he nods, graciously.]

As you wish.

[He's got one hand free, so he uses it to unclip his heavy coat, undo his collar. He still honors his promise: nothing sexual, just watching. Just playing the part of the voyeur, as he spins their joined hands and leans down to kiss the bridge—followed by a kiss on each of his partner's knuckles, light and barely present.

It isn't sexual, but it's deeply... well, something else. Something like affection, or whatever a monster could summon in its place.]

[recordingends]

[It's what one monster can give another. His fingers twitch as lips brush along each knuckle: the back of his hand was badly burned at some point and it wraps around his palm and fingers. He wants to recoil from the attention if only because he's self-conscious about the scars.

He lifts his gaze, watching as the Brigadier General opens his coat and his collar. He's meant to be watching and so he will. There's a weight to his gaze, to his full attention.]

[mcvillain]

[McGillis has seen all kinds of injuries, out in the field. Burns, definitely, and also loss of limb, grievous injury that not even the technology of the future could correct. But it's never disgusted him, never repulsed him. So he offers no judgment of old wounds, and kisses over them too, just to prove his point.

He takes note of that rapt expression, and checks in, just in case:]

I will go on, if you'd like.

[Shrugging off that fine silk shirt, clinging to his shoulders, would qualify as something else entirely. He took him this far; he upheld his word.]

[recordingends]

Aren't we supposed to?

[Jon doesn't know how far this needs to go to count as voyeurism, to count as a tick mark on the card. He notes, absently, that the brigadier general has very well-tailored clothes. Silk, maybe? He doesn't really know. Jon has an aesthetic but he isn't necessarily fashion-forward.]

[mcvillain]

I don't force myself onto others.

[That being said, Jon no longer sounds so reluctant, or ready to bolt. McGillis might be holding onto him, but in a sense, there's great power in no. And he'll obey it as soon as he hears it, but for the time being... it was getting a bit warm with all those layers, so that's as good an excuse as any to strip down.

Off goes the well-tailored shirt, to reveal row upon row of toned muscle. Like a tiger, or maybe a bull. He loosens his grip, just a little, to run the tip of his tongue along a burned, scarred finger, maintaining eye contact all the while. Gauging for a reaction, negative, positive, or otherwise. And he insists:]

Don't look away. If you like it, then beg for it.

[He'll give it to him. In this context, more is never a problem.]

[recordingends]

[Shirt gone, he lets himself look over the exposed expanse of skin and muscle.

Jon's hand twitches again as a warm tongue teases along his finger. The reaction is neither negative nor positive, just startled. It's--uncomfortable, but not bad. His body responds but his mind doesn't: his interest is theoretical, intellectual.

But he can do this.]

Please, [he says again, staring up at the brigadier general and willing himself not to look away.] Don't stop.

[mcvillain]

[As bidden, McGillis continues. He's willing to bet they've satisfied at least one requirement by now, but better safe than sorry. Though Jon might be very, very sorry, given what he's invited, as McGillis unfurls his fingers a bit further and...]

You asked for this.

[...draws them into his mouth, and licks, and bites, and sucks, in a way that's decidedly friendly. And reminiscent of what that same mouth could do, a bit further south.]

[recordingends]

[Did he?? Jon makes a quiet sound, something between startled and uncertain, as his fingers slip into the other man's mouth. The slick heat, the firm press of teeth, all of it conspires to make him tense. His fingers curl involuntarily, uncertain if he wants to pull away or not.

This is not the direction he thought things would go. He has no idea what he thought, but it wasn't this.]

Did I? [he asks hoarsely.]

[mcvillain]

[Either way, McGillis draws back. In contrast, he's hardly bothered by any of it, to such an extent he diverts his attention to the beeping device around his wrist. He looks pleased, and already seems to have forgotten where things were leading. Or where they weren't.]

Mm. That should be more than adequate.

[His eyes flick to Jon's face, like they weren't hopelessly dark mere moments ago.]

Check your card. You should have two spots cleared.

[recordingends]

[Just as quickly as it all began, it stops. Jon blinks slowly and it takes him a moment to catch on. He clears his head as he looks at his card: indeed, two spots have cleared. He swallows thickly and wills his body to quiet itself again. Maybe he'll find somewhere private to take care of himself, though he doubts it will take his arousal long to die when he remembers the post-apocalyptic landscape.

Or he'll just let himself realize that all of this happened in public and let the rush of humiliation take care of it.

Jon gets up and dusts off his clothes. He clears his throat.]

Right, uhm. Thank you.

[mcvillain]

[McGillis appears distracted in the aftermath, casting his eyes about in search of something else. Didn't those robots say... ah, yes. That must've been it. Lifting his boot, there's a small yet resilient patch growing beneath it, up, up, up.]

There. Now you've no reason to doubt me.

[Their efforts have yielded a single red rose, proof in concept of those earlier claims. McGillis plucks it with a distant smile.]

How romantic. You must've been thinking some truly lovely thoughts, hm?