![[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 001
| 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 |
no subject
He glances down at his catch, with no small amount of irritation, and almost seems offended. Except it's a little half-hearted, because he might've been caught out of his element.]
Isn't this sufficient?
[And that's no joke. He really doesn't know any better, thanks to less than fortunate experiences in the past.]
no subject
but not really, he just likes being close to people by proximity. it's nice to held by someone, even if he's not about to get into the fine details about that with a.) a total stranger and b.) someone who probably doesn't care either way. underneath everything, it makes him feel more like a person and less like a not-person, if that makes any sense.
making a sourpuss out of McGillis, though, that's probably just going to tip their robot overlords further toward the scale of "not legit."]
Probably not. But, hey, man. It's okay.
[he takes it failure isn't something the other blond is used to. not that it's entirely a failure? it just needs some leg room. like a picture, just. maybe taken at the wrong angle.
he sidles in a way to lean more against the general, less relying on his arms to prop his position up. for all his impatience, Prompto's still a pretty gentle person, and he's just as such when he tries to move his arm so that the pose is way more natural, touching more of Prompto than treating him like a sack of potatoes.
start small. it's what he told himself when he started taking running as a hobby, back when he was a kid.]
Tell me, uh. Talk about something that makes you happy. People usually relax a bit when they do.
no subject
What made him happy...? Not much. Not much appropriate for this kind of setting, anyway. It takes him some time to think, working through it aloud.]
...birds. I couldn't find any, when I first arrived, which was unusual. Surely birds exist in any kind of world.
[Did they all die? Were they exterminated? Did they migrate? McGillis frowns, lost in his own train of thought.]
Turdus merula, Cyanocitta cristata, Zenaida macroura... all absent. No other animals, either, or plants that I could tell. Everything is dead or dying.
[Such a sad state of affairs. And he's not exactly happy, pretty far from relaxed, but keeping his brain active means he's distracted from other things, like tensing up or crushing his companion. His fingers are pliant, and touch softly to Prompto's arm, where they naturally fell. This was a dangerous man, but... it's harder to see that, talking about robins and doves.]
no subject
okay, that's... definitely better. it's a little surprising to Prompto, at least at some level, that he's talking in a way that doesn't lead to demands or implementations. there's a hint of sadness behind the diction here, and as he listens, he imagines an entire field of chocobos running in an empty field. he gets it. they're kind of beautiful- birds. they can go where they please. they're the owners of the skies, unburdened by conventions or barcodes or notions about what they need to do.
in any case, if it's not the intended effect he wanted to bring to the table, it provides a better, and less rigid option. a hulking, brooding, presumably much stronger man with someone relatively weak boned and fragile in his arms. it wouldn't be the first time that Prompto's been likened to a bird himself, but that's weird imagery to conjure up here.]
Back in my home world, we have these birds that are bigger than you can imagine. You can actually ride them. They're really... like. These gentle things, soft and warm, and so powerful. They're beautiful.
[as the grip around Prompto softens a little, he shifts an inch or two to pull out his camera, again, for the umpteenth time since they met, as he flips through with a single flick... 100's of photos back, to show him what a chocobo looks like as it rests happily at a post, nestled in on itself.]
See?
[he tilts the preview window up so the other can see it. they're definitely not extinct where he comes from. and as he shows him, he nestles his head closer up against him, his wild hair threatening against his jawline, if only to let him get a better view of what he was talking about.
almost cuddling.]
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dat thirst, boi...
Of course, he isn't blind or deaf to what's going on, to what's happening. He's alert and attentive, as any man from his background would be, but he's shedding a few of those nastier layers. Not the physical kind, but the kind that seethed and glared and stopped short of calling Prompto a complete idiot. He's just doing as directed, for as long as it pleases him.
A very big lion, holding a tiny little bird. How appropriate.]
Ah, it seems happy.
[Happy, like Prompto told him to be. He can't, but this was a decent start, and it has him looking down to dryly note:]
It bears a striking resemblance to you.
what are you talking about this is a strictly ecological arrangement
the door's been slightly opened from the locked tight position that was McGillis just a few moments ago, and as he teases, Prompto sees a sliver of a sense of humor peaking out from behind the curtain. it wasn't the first time he was told that; and he's protested enough to it in the past, but it doesn't bother him as much as he lets on.]
I'll take that as a compliment.
[he smiles, arrogant in the way he eats the attention up.
he's not sure that there's a way to bring back birds and flora and fauna and the like just by getting intimate with people. that much just seems so far-fetched from reality that he'd have to see it to honestly believe it. but if there is a legit way to make it happen, he decides that he'd like to see it too. for this guy's sake, at least.]
It's the hair, right? [he smiles, and then, not-so-subtly puts himself out there. which is weird, because he's kind of awful at this sort of thing. with a little lull in his voice, in a tone just below challenging and a little above inviting he adds-] I don't usuuuually offer, but I've heard mine is just as soft. You can touch it if you want.
no subject
Being a creature that prided itself upon arrogance, he sniffs it out right away in others. It's a poor look for someone so clearly on the chipper end of the spectrum, and McGillis calls it out—although it's more akin to thinly veiled teasing. He's arrogant enough to get away with it.]
Fishing for praise, are we?
[McGillis rests his weight a bit more heavily upon Prompto. Although he took those lessons to heart; proper cuddling sequence has been engaged.]
That's a strange thing to ask on another man's lap. Perhaps you should try for the corner square, instead.
[Kissing? Oh, my. Fitting with the scandalous theme here.]
no subject
[which is absolutely true. leave that stuff to the crowned prince, codename: Mr. Gar. he knew his way around a rod or two, and a wealth of far more inappropriate sex pun fishuenndos, you know. as he's wont to do. there's a little lift to his voice, when he says it, enjoying the borderline-teasing that's going on. that sort of stuff puts him right in his comfort zone, a place where he falls back to often enough to hide a mass of other hiccups that imply his actual lack of self-faith.
but the most important thing to note here is that it feels like this is actually beginning to work- Prompto's a lot more comfortable, and he can't quite tell if McGillis is too, but the way he exerts more of himself on Prompto, the more he gets a positive reinforcement that they're heading in the right direction. actually, he might not be too bad at it, after all? he knows the general would never agree to it, but would it really be the worst thing in the world to fall asleep like this? in the arms of a kind of dreamy man?
gross.
here's the rub, though. and it's kind of awful, because Prompto thinks "corner square?" and kissing's not the one that comes directly to mind. mostly because, well, the other guy seems kind of unreachable and Prompto doesn't have the gusto to go for gold. instead, he blinks, opens his mouth, and then closes it. alright, dude. you asked for it.]
Uhm. Okay. We can try that. [shifting, a little, he brushes his fingers across McGillis' arm.] Y'know, I-I... I, uh. I've never really been with a guy before. This doesn't make me gay or anything, right?
[he's not very convincing.]
no subject
You most certainly have. Though I'd question your experience, given your relative youth.
[He throws Prompto a bone with "relative" as opposed to calling him a child, though he still looks so very young. But that's fine, he figures. And if he came this close, and continued to linger, continued to push the envelope, it suggests that consent has been granted—and he can guide this interaction a little more appropriately.
Kissing was on his card too, but as with their cuddling endeavor, he wonders how much was necessary to earn that golden check mark.]
At any rate, that makes no difference to me. Open your mouth.
[And whether he does or doesn't, McGillis has more than enough gusto to spare. You're getting kissed, little bird, with a proper tilt of the chin to boot.]
no subject
he has to wonder. is this the type of presence he always commands? it went from a terse meeting, a negotiation about blankets and pictures, to feeling honestly a little too warm under them now- and Prompto hasn't fussed much along the way. the envelope gets pushed, for sure, and this is getting farther away from teaching him how to cuddle. his inhibitions and guardrails are brought down. but he doesn't really need the bingo card excuse. he'd probably be into this without even having a clinical reason to do so. that might be easy enough to read off of him, though, as he looks upward, freckle faced and soft hair and all.]
I.... I mean, bingo card aside, and everything. Older men are kinda hot.
[there, he said it. no fire in his stomach or intense feeling of embarrassment to go along with it, either.
and then it goes to show that he was way, way off about which square he was talking about- as the other presses a kiss into him. whoa. okay. cool. okay.
the room's definitely kind of spinning.
a stranger's kissing him, and he bathes in the unique feeling that he's the most important thing in the room right now. even if it's not entirely true, it feels pretty goddamn fantastic, as he closes his eyes, and parts his lips as directed. McGillis has effectively wiped Prompto clean of any possible objection or wariness in the process. which is honestly? a pretty big feat for just about anyone.]
no subject
He's cute. McGillis can admit that to himself, quietly. Eager and full of an infectious sort of energy, which he has little doubt he's forced onto others in the past. In this context, though, it's fine. He's getting what he wants, and he can justify it later, when he's sifting through all those pictures he's earned. He'll do what he has to, in order to survive. He'll use people and toss them aside, just like other people will use him in turn. That's simply the way of things, and being thrown ten thousand worlds away won't change that.
Still, he's curious to see how far Prompto will go. He pries those lips open a bit further, with the expertise of that charming older man but also with the insistence of a predator. Fittingly, a game of chicken, to see how far is too far, how much more he can push back before he's had enough. Though he's in trouble, and on multiple fronts.
Because McGillis was, most definitely, in his element here. And he's a very gifted orator... so his tongue proves, slipping in and slipping past Prompto's sassy little mouth.]
no subject
it doesn't escape him that McGillis has a certain way about him either. the type that not only demands perfection around him by his mere personal aura, but also commands a certain charismatic insistence on getting what he wants done. and it's not like Prompto hasn't been on the receiving end of a deep kiss before, or given one for that matter, but it was infinitely more arousing when the other party didn't flounder around with the desire to do it. the blond is swept up by it, taken in by the undertow, and no matter the level of trouble he's in, he's always been one to accidentally skirt the line of between safe and dangerous.
simply put, he's wandered willingly straight into the lion's den.
Prompto shifts, then, his body knowing what to do in the warmth of the moment, if McGillis permits it- as he comes undone from his useless sack of potatoes position and into a more active one. his lap becomes a seat, and although he's a grown ass man, the weight of his body is probably a blip in the radar. he raises his hand upward to touch his cheek, guided in location by the juxtaposition of their lips tangled together. Prompto accepts the entrance towards his own mouth, as he presses his tongue upward and against the general's. the contortive sweeps that McGillis makes inside Prompto stir him, as he feels blissfully helpless to the game of chicken that they've made. with a rising gradation of effort, he tries to keep himself a contender, so as not to be eaten whole by McGillis' intentful presence.
and somewhere around his wrist, a little mark on a box is checked off. if this wasn't enough to bring birds home to roost in this world, at least the one sitting in McGillis' lap is content enough to let his cage rattle a bit.]
no subject
He doesn't really care what happens to Prompto, whether he likes it or dislikes it. But he's not immune to intimacy by any means, even though anyone dragged into his bed just wound up spat out. When he's touched on the cheek, almost tenderly, he leans into it. When Prompto shifts, he shifts to accommodate, spreading his legs a bit wider, tightening his grip a bit more.
And as Prompto responds, he starts to move, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling them closer together. It's bold, but it's still civil. Still polite, although what they're doing is dipping into the territory of sexual as opposed to simply intimate. He's a man, at the end of day, and men react predictably to this kind of attention. He's starting to stir, and in a very obvious way.
Which was punctuated by some muffled sound, something like a huff. It melts into a moan, as he forces himself to pull away. Just not too far, just in case.]
Perhaps our devices will function properly, now.
[He found his voice but it's a bit strained. And his eyes are dark, pupils a bit blown. Arousal evident. He peers at Prompto, breath heavy and slow.]
You're starved for this, aren't you? Is that what you want...?
[Obviously, this was no longer about the cards. His own device chirps happily, conditions fulfilled. But just as Prompto was caught in McGillis' orbit, McGillis surrenders to the pleasure of the act itself. And ever cognizant, asks in so many words, shall we continue? Because even a beast could bow to consent.]
no subject
what does he want? it's not a question he's too familiar with, instead, usually being in the position to ask that of the other party. his needs always feel small in the comparison to others', especially when he can simply feel fulfilled just by being wanted in the first place. it's no small hidden secret that Prompto doesn't have a lot of faith in himself, and yet, McGillis instills a sort of powerful confidence in him.
and yet, when he asks, he can almost feel the answer being pulled out of him instinctively. Prompto has it in him to beg for it, the word "please," just on the tip of his tongue. he'd like nothing better than his shirt to be pulled up and off and discarded in the distance, hands clashing as he submits to the beast below him. without a single doubt in his mind, it'd probably be the most mind-blowing sex that he's ever had in his life. his entire body aches for it, the intensely pleasurable pain, the weight of another body intertwined into his, and the lack of feeling empty.
but fuck, his conscience is such an annoying cockblock.]
You have no idea how badly I want it.
[... here he goes, ruining it, because Prompto's biggest enemy is, well, Prompto.]
But... [he sighs, and it's involuntary, the way he shifts ever so slightly and ends up grinding his ass into McGillis' arousal even more.] We should... probably cool off.
Right?
no subject
And he gives the matter some serious thought. Prompto was slight of build, so it would be all too easy to hurt him. And it doesn't seem right, doing this here, even if McGillis' relationship with right and wrong was tenuous at best. Maybe there was a middle ground here, a path McGillis didn't often pursue yet was willing to indulge, thanks to those softer edges.
That happy bird, though... if he curried favor with this man, could he see it again?]
Penetration isn't strictly necessary, in the pursuit of pleasure.
[But proper negotiation was. Therefore...]
What do you like? Show me.
no subject
romance, buildup. to not feel lingering feelings to people he's wanted to have sex with in the past. that's what he'd like, but it's something that's unfortunately not going to be attainable in this city. so what's left after that? having some fun? letting go and living in the moment; it's something he's always prided himself on doing anyway.
but hell, he didn't need to have sex with Prompto if he just wanted to see more bird pics. this blond is happy to elaborate all day, every day about the cute little guys.]
Dude... I gotta admit. No one ever asks me that.
[he leans his head back from touching McGillis'. for a moment, he bites down on his bottom lip, and considers it. his lips curl into a recognizable sort of simple complacency, then, when he comes to a conclusion. yeah, he could definitely be down for "penetration," and McGillis? he's like, an 11 out of 10--- no wait, at least a 12. either way, a little out of his league from the norm. but if anything? he kind of wants to... work his way up to it.
with a sort of an outwardly breathy laugh, and a definite sense of awkwardness behind the subtle trepidation, he asks:]
Ever given a blowjob before?
[his ears pin backwards a bit, eyes settled on McGillis and sort of proud that he had the nerve to ask. and if he is such a good orator, maybe his oral skills are equally above board.]