Love is in the air

[npc-excolo.livejournal.com]

Sunday, February 14th
Valentine's Day

I sit on my bed with my legs crossed, writing real careful in my notebook. MRS CLARA GRANGER I write, all tidy, then underneath I practice my signature. Clara Granger. That nice man at the market swore it wouldn't take too long for him to propose after he drank the potion. After I practice my signature a few times I write our names together. PETER AND CLARA, and I put them inside a nice big heart.

I hear Momma shouting for me and I sigh. I know she won't approve when Peter and I get together, cos he is a bunch older than me and she says seventeen is way too young to settle down. But I know she married Pop at nineteen, so she's just a hypocrite. And Peter's a real good catch - got his own job, his own place. There's that Maya of course to worry about, I think, and I push my pencil a bit too hard into the page and the point breaks. But once Peter's had the potion he won't remember that he likes her. I just need to work out how to get it to him.

Momma shouts again.

"Coming!" I shout. I know she wants me to go to that dumb Valentine's market and help her sell quilts. Ugh. But Peter might be around town, so I check my hair is nice before I go down.

***

This punch just don't look too appetising. I sigh and shout for Clara again. What is that girl doing? Probably dreaming about that barman. She thinks I don't know she's moony about him. I'm just glad he's got a sweetheart, or else he might go for my Clara - she's real pretty and men like adoring girls. He's much too old for her. I taste the punch and it's real nice, course it is, made from our fruits, but the colour just don't pop. Feeling a bit guilty, I get out some food colourant and drop it in, and it goes a nice reddish colour. That's about right for Valentine's, ain't it? I stopper up the barrel. Clara comes down.

"Get those quilts in the cart, will you?" I say, hustling her out and then getting the punch on the wagon. Roads are clear, so we get set up easy. Just a few stalls for this - jewellery, flowers, all kinds of novelties. I put out the prettiest quilts - maybe some guy'll think one'd make a nice present for his wife, and more practical than earbobs - and set up the punch.

"Free punch, sir?" I say, holding out a cup. After a bit of prodding I get Clara dishing up punch too. Hopefully it'll be a good day.

[OPEN]
[Closed]

Comments

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

It's nice to see the Sunday market. Valentine's Day was a fun sort of festival when I was growing up. Boys would tie ribbons to the front door handles of the houses where the girls they liked lived, and girls would give gingerbread shapes back to them if they liked them too. Remembering that, i baked gingerbread this week for Tess, and put the pieces in a pretty jar and gave them to her this morning. I think she liked them.

After church I've taken a stroll through town, looking at the market, and I smile when I see Glass. She's talking to the doctor, and that nice barman who loaned me his coat.

"Good morning," I say, coming up. "This is quite nice, isn't it?" I say, gesturing at the stalls.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

We’re gathering a little knot of people: me and the doctor and the two women. They seem nice enough, but I wish it were just him and me so we could walk around together and look at things, maybe go get something to eat and talk. But he keeps looking at me with those warm blue eyes, and he is making an effort to keep me in the conversation, which I really appreciate.

The woman whose name I think is Glass asks me why I’ve come here after she shakes my hand. Don’t how to answer that except to shrug and say, “It was next on the road.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, though, I can hear them out loud like everyone else must have, sounding plain and stupid. If I were a gentleman, I could have said the same thing but in a way that sounded clever and mysterious. Suddenly its very important to me not to make a fool out of myself in front of the doctor.

The words are already out, though, but the doctor’s talking now about the quilt he’s got and what he was looking for. He looks as embarrassed as I feel, and I’m not sure why. I don’t think Miao, if I caught the name right, could be his wife. Think she’s the lady in charge of the brothel, not just the madam but a proper lady and not anyone’s wife, from what I’ve heard.

He changes the subject quickly, though, laughing with Glass about Wednesdays and telling me she makes them interesting. He has a nice laugh, and his face changes completely when he smiles. I can’t stare at him too much, but I do want to say something back. Can’t think of anything exciting that’s happened to me the past few Wednesdays, but I can think to say, “We had an interesting Thursday last week. Hope that never happens again.” And I catch his eye, feeling good to be saying ‘we.’ I’ll let him explain what happened if he wants, to Glass and the other woman who’s started talking to her. Think I remember her from the bakery, but I could be mistaken.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Nod t'Jarmyn's mention of Excolo being next on the road, and quick dry smile at mention of the Whitechapel. "Think he'd like the cards," I say, "but the Whitechapel--" Toss Jarmyn an apologetic look, not that I could be sure he notices. "Last time he was by one claiming t'be family-by-law was a bloody ass, and he's not by there so often of late."

"I ... ah... was looking for something for ... Miao..." and swear he's near to skittering around her name as he looks to--

Manage to avoid raising an eyebrow. Well, then. Long as you mind yourself, Lucien--you may be doctor t'town but he's not made himself of particular weight, and don't need him giving either of us work. "This is not for her," he adds, fussing with the quilt.

Shrug at that. "Never practiced the day, hardly after giving you grief for getting yourself something."

"Good morning," and glance over t'see Kate coming and glad of that, nod agreement as she gestures to the stalls. "This is quite nice, isn't it?" Step back a little and touch her shoulder, draw her to the conversation.

"Truly," I say. "Mean, little enough for way-- was thinking may be could find something for--" Shake my head t'clear it. "Nice t'see," I settle on in agreement, wondering why I'm carrying on so. Brighter and more crowded and touch earlier than I'd usually care for, but... well, can see the appeal.

"We had an interesting Thursday last week," Jarmyn offers. "Hope that never happens again."

"What happened?" I say, sudden curious. Turn a little t'face him, and find myself standing a touch closer t'Kate as I do so. No matter to't, surely.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I stop looking sideways at Lucien and watch Glass while she’s talking, for two reasons. One, she’s been watching us (makes me feel warm, just the word us, when it means me and the doctor) with sharp eyes, like she knows something’s going on but doesn’t quite like it, and two, the way she puts her words together makes her sound like someone down-country from where I grew up, even though her accent’s different. Anyway, she makes me feel less backward, looking like she belongs here in town but not like a lady who does nothing but embroider all day and keep little dogs.

It’s also worth listening to her because she’s talking about my bar, and something that must have happened before my time. Don’t know who Iago is to her that she would be buying him a birthday present, but I have heard that’s the name of the fellow who tends bar at the Tavern. Name like that can’t be too common in a town like this. She sounds a bit awkward talking about him, though. Probably not her brother.

When I mention Thursday, she starts looking just at me and asks me what happened. I kind of hope Lucien will start telling the story and making me out to be some kind of a hero, but he doesn’t, and she is looking at me, so I say, “There was a fight across the street from the bar that night, two guys from town beating on another one they thought was from the Carnival. Hurt him pretty bad before I got there, and all of us ended up going down to the jail with Deputy Hollow for awhile.” I stop there, to give Lucien a chance to add his bit now if he wants.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

"Think he'd like the cards, but the Whitechapel, last time he was by one claiming t'be family-by-law was a bloody ass, and he's not by there so often of late." Oh, I wince a bit. "Yes, right... damn my memory, I was there." Give her an apologetic smile. "We'll find somewhere else then."

I nod and smile to Kate who joins us. "Morning Kate, you're looking in fine spirits." I say cheerily, feeling in fine spirits myself.

Talk turns towards this Thursday past, and I groan a little. "We can stop having so many eventful nights." I start to complain, but then smile. "And Jarmyn is being too modest." I say, clapping my hand on his shoulder. "Those two would have beated him within an inch of his life, worse, and he was good enough to step in and break it up. Quite the hero." I beam.

Is it me or is it warmer today than it should be?

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Nod awkward over the mention of cards for Iago, running one hand over the back of my neck and glancing aside t'Kate. Well enough, I'm only ill at ease with the matter--suppose it's for Lucien so easy finding something for him, and me still at a loss.

Jarmyn answers matter of Thursday and oh, no surprise there, given the week. "There was a fight across the street from the bar that night, two guys from town beating on another one they thought was from the Carnival," and guess I'd be hearing about it if he was due t'come t'me. Mouth draws thin at mention of Hollow, but let it pass.

"Was he?" I say curious. "From down the Carnival, I mean?"

And then Lucien's near to glowing, hand on Jarmyn's shoulder, and smiling praises. "Those two would have beated him within an inch of his life, worse," and've a confused moment afore he adds "and he was good enough to step in and break it up. Quite the hero."

Murmur acknowledgement. "That where you met him, then?"

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Seems like everyone’s looking at me now, not just Glass, because Lucien’s talking about the fight in the way I kind of wanted him to, and his hand’s warm squeezing my shoulder. The man has big hands, and I can’t help looking at it out of the corner my eye and thinking about him doing other things with them. Hopefully the only thing that shows on my face is a bit of embarrassment over people making so much of the business with Tarquin, which in many ways did not turn out well at all. No need to make mention of that, though.

Glass had asked after where Tarquin was from, and I shake my head at the question. “Don’t think so. Just new in town and in the wrong place that night.” Not going to say more about how he managed to get himself into the mess I found him in. If the kid wants to start something new here, he doesn’t need any more people knowing than already do.

She also asks about how we met. At least I think that’s what she’s asking, and I think she was directing the question at Lucien. I kind of want to see what he says to it, too, although I hope he doesn’t make mention of exactly what I was doing when he came in. If I look over at him again directly, I figure someone’s going to really notice, and talking about Tarquin and what happened to him makes me think that maybe I shouldn’t be so sure he’s being nice to me just to be nice, even though I really want to take it for what it seems to be. And maybe I shouldn’t be wanting what looking at him makes me think about. Don’t know if I can help that, though.

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

"Morning Kate, you're looking in fine spirits."

"I am," I say with a smile, "thank you. After all the horrid business at the start of the week, it's nice to come to Sunday with a market and cheerful people about."

There is talk of a fight, then, and I feel my mouth thinning.

"This town," I say, with a sigh, "seems unable to stay quiet for more than a couple of days at a time." I shake my head. Lucien calls the barman - Jarmyn, that's his name - a hero, and I smile.

"It seems like you did someone a good service," I say. "Excolo could do with more newcomers like you." I glance around, and I see Tess talking to Valmont. My smile lifts up. "Look, it's Tess," I say to Glass. "Do you want to come over and say hello?"

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Kate as pleased as anyone else of sense t'hear of yet another Excolo night, and murmur agreement over length of time it keeps calm. Something courteous to Jarmyn and then she looks away and see her ease and smile and follow her gaze, and feel something catch like a thorn in my heart. "Look, it's Tess," voice bright as needles. "Do you want to come over and say hello?"

And think no, but somehow thought of standing here watching Lucien try t'measure out whether he's setting his hands on Jarmyn or his new quilt seems worse, with her gone. "Surely," I say mild. "Lucien, speak with you later?" Still have no idea why he was worried over the mask of my state, and meaning t'ask, but bloody well not discussing it here. "Fine enough t'meet you," I add to Jarmyn, then follow Kate over (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/381944.html?thread=1#t9759736).

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

There's more talk of the fight, and Glass asking if that's how we met.

"Oh you know, another late night trip to the sheriff's office. you know how I adore those." I say dryly, hoping I can get by without one for quite some time.

"It seems like you did someone a good service, Excolo could do with more newcomers like you." Kate says and I can't help but grin. "Excolo is certainly lucky to have him." God I am in a good mood! Must have got more sleep than I thought I did.

Kate spots Tess, and goes off to greet her, Glass trailing behind, looking less than happy. Huh? Wonder if Glass does not care for her? Will try to coax it from her another time. Meanwhile...

"So.... ummm... were yo looking for something special for anyone?" I ask, fidgeting with the baby quilt in my hands.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Doc says the town is lucky to have me, which sets me grinning even though it’s not true by a long shot. The two women go off, one looking a lot happier than the other. No sure what that’s about, and don’t know them well enough to ask. More interested in the doctor, anyway.

Turn back to see him fidgeting a little, and I wonder what he’s nervous over. Asks me was I looking for something special, and I wonder if he’s trying to figure out if I have a lover or a sweetheart to buy a gift for. Well that’s easy enough to answer. “Don’t have anyone to buy for,” I tell him. “Going out just seemed better than staying in. Could do with a cup of coffee. Don’t look like you need one, though.” Under the nervousness he still looks pleased as punch to see me, and not tired at all.

“Or,” I say, thinking of something that might get us in a place to talk and maybe do other things a bit sooner. “Should ask you: I got hit on the head in that fight on Thursday, and it bled some. Feels a lot better now, but it still looks pretty bad.” I tip my head down and push the hair back to show him, feeling like an idiot and not at all sure of myself. “Would you mind taking a look at it for me?” I lift my eyes and look up at him, adding “Please?” in a soft tone I hope no one else can hear.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

“Don’t have anyone to buy for..." I don't know why, but I am happy to hear that.

“Going out just seemed better than staying in. Could do with a cup of coffee. Don’t look like you need one, though.” I smile at that, and wave the quilt around in my hand a bit. "Nah, can always use coffee, in fact, I have a long standing ambition to replace my blood system with a caffiene one." I laugh, then realize I am holding a very girly quilt in my hands. "Friend of mine is having a baby.. saw this and thought it wouls suit her." I explain the bit of pastel in my hands as if he needs to know that this is for Wanda and not Miao, but I am not sure why I am explaining it though.

Jarmyn mentions his head, and I immediately grow concerned. “Would you mind taking a look at it for me? Please?”

Well... I would have anyway... but it was the please that got me. "Sure thing, lets go back to the office. I can set this aside before it gets dirty, and get a look at your head." I offer, brushung my fingers against his skull to try and move the hair our of the way and get a better look at it. His hair is soft, softer than I would have thought...

I draw my hand away, and manage a awkward smile.
"C'mon... this way." I say, taking a few stps and looking back over my shoulder to see if he is following.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I like any man who talks about coffee like it’s a necessity and not just a nice hot drink. He’s probably up at all hours of the night just like I am, only instead of serving drinks and breaking up fights, he’s doing important things like saving people’s lives and cutting their arms off. I think it’s the quilt he’s nervous about holding, from the way he explains it to me. I could care less, but it’s nice that he’d think to buy it for a friend’s baby. Lot of men wouldn’t think of that.

Asking him about my head gets his attention, though. He looks worried and comes over to me, putting his hand where I show him and brushing through my hair with his fingers. He’s so careful not to hurt me at all, and I find myself thinking I could do with having his hands there a bit more. I try not to look too excited at his suggestion that we go back to his office, although that’s exactly what I wanted, just smile back at him and follow. Don’t know where his office is, but I’ll bet it has some kind of examination table and all sorts of interesting tools. Might also have some coffee, if I’m very lucky.

He looks back at me once, and when he turns his head, I swear his hair ripples like corn when the wind blows through it. It’s all I can do not to reach out and touch it. This is a fine looking man, I think, watching his ass as he walks in front of me. Damn fine. But this town is full of fine looking men, women, too, and I’m not following any of them around. Don’t plan to start, either, even if they start paying attention to me and dropping hints that I’d be welcome to return it. Not in the habit of returning anything unless I can see there’s a way to get some benefit out of it that isn’t sex.

And yeah, the doc patched up Tarquin, but that’s his job, and I didn’t ask him to do it. And yeah, I’d like him to take a look at my head, but I don’t need him too. It’s been fine the past couple of days. That was just an excuse, and a pretty bald one at that, to get him alone. So why is it, I’m wondering, that I want him alone if there’s nothing I need from him? My brain slides away from the why, wanting me to keep watching that ass and that long, blond hair, and that’s when I start thinking fast.

My brain never slides away from things unless I’m drunk or half-asleep. I’m only maybe a quarter asleep, so it can’t be that. I did have that punch, but there wasn’t anything in it but fruit and sugar, by the taste, not even a bit of vodka from someone’s flask. So what the hell is wrong with me that I’m mooning over this doctor? Don’t really want to think about that question either. Want to watch his hands swing by his sides, loose and easy. I decide to go with him, talk to him, get a cup of coffee out of him if I can, and then figure out if there’s anything we can do for each other. Because if I’m not mistaken, he seems interested in me for more than my heroics Thursday night. I know what he saw me doing Thursday night, and it wasn’t heroic. Hope we get to his office soon so I can stop thinking.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

It's only a few minutes walk back to my office, and before long I am opening the door and ushering him into the shaded interior.

"C'mon, I have better light back in the exam room." I say, closing the door and locking it before leading him to the back room, dropping the quilt into the desk.

I lead him to the back room and flip on the light as I shrug out of my coat, wondering at the odd little butterflies fluttering in my stomach. It's just a quick check, not like it's a formal appointment. He's survived thus far, so it can't be as bad as all that. Wonder why he's bringing it up now? DId he want to get me alone? No... we just happened to run into one another.

"Okay, show me the spot again," I ask, smiling at him, wondering if there's anywhere else on him that is in discomfort.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

It’s not a long walk, and pretty soon he’s showing me into the office and locking the door behind us. That does it. Have to ask him about what’s going on and then decide quick if I need to get out. He leaves the quilt on his desk and suggests we go back to the exam room. That’s more than fine with me, and I follow him into a room with a padded table exactly like the one I had in mind. There’s a desk too, and it’s a struggle to decide whether I want to imagine being put over one or the other. Never got turned on by the thought of playing doctor before, but this man and this room have got me mostly hard from just looking. Not sure if I want him to notice or not.

I lean against the exam table when he smiles at me and asks me to show him again, pushing the hair back so he can see. Have to bend my head down because I’m just a bit taller than he is, and I imagine I look very submissive doing it. Let’s see if he likes that. And because he’s going to be able to tell in a minute, I say, “My head’s fine, doc, just scraped. Was looking for a way to get somewhere I could ask you why you’re looking at me like that, and where we could maybe do something about it.”

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

He bends his head down, and I have a flash of an idea to keep pushing his head further down, but I push away the odd thought and resume doing my job.

“My head’s fine, doc, just scraped. Was looking for a way to get somewhere I could ask you why you’re looking at me like that, and where we could maybe do something about it.”

I feel a flush of heat at that---

and a flash of anger. I straighten up and cross my arms over my chest. "I have no idea what you are talking about with the look thing," I say, although I know full well what he's talking about. "I thought I was being asked to do my job, on my day off no less..." I say, steel flashing in my eyes....

and a mild curiosity to see how he'll react.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He stops and takes his hands out of my hair when I admit to him that I’m not really hurt. And then, oh God, he stands up and crosses his arm, and with that hair and those eyes he looks like the Archangel Michael about to slay the Assyrians, beautiful and wrathful. He looks angry, but not as shocked as he’s making out. I think he does know what I’m talking about.

“I apologize, then. Sir.” I say softly, and look up at him through my hair, still keeping my head a little bent, doing my best to look not sorry at all. Try to look, in fact, like someone who needs to be taught a lesson, a very thorough lesson after which he will be very sorry indeed. My heart’s pounding so hard he must be able to hear it. I think I know what I’m getting myself into here, but I’m not at all sure. But there’s a chance that this man might be able to give me what I’ve been craving for longer than I care to think about, and I’m willing to take that chance. “Shouldn’t have made you think you were going to have to work on your day off. That was very wrong of me.”

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

“I apologize, then. Sir.”

....... I was not expecting this. That slightly submissive tone, the looking up through hair, and I will admit it pulls at things low and dark in me...

“Shouldn’t have made you think you were going to have to work on your day off. That was very wrong of me.”

"It was." I growl and reach out quickly to grab him by his hair. I think to throw him to the floor, to turn him around and bend him over the table, to slip off my belt and---

Jarymn is being perfectly submissive, trembling and waiting in my grasp, and those green eyes looking up at me...

green eyes.

Damn.

I sigh and release the grip I have on his hair. I think I may still want to do wickedly wonderful things to him, but right now, he's reminding me of someone else, and it's not right. At least at this second.

"Can't." Say simply. "I just got out of..." Fumble over the words. "I have..." Shake my head. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?" Is what I finally settle on.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

No sooner have I admitted I was wrong than his hand is back in my hair, gripping hard. I bend my head into it, letting him know he can do anything he wants with me right now, and I’ll take it. He’s got me feeling as though I’ve done something terribly wrong, as though I need to be told what to do in order to get anything right, as though I should be punished, thoroughly and seriously, taken in hand by someone in a position to put me in my place and keep me there. I want to give up control, I want to not have to worry about finding another job and another room or where the hell Tarquin is or how small the wad of cash in my pocket’s gotten to be. God, I want this man to hit me, slap me full across the face that other big hand, and then bend me over his exam table and take his belt to me until I can’t move. Don’t much care what he does to me after that, as long as he talks to me during it all. He could spread me and fuck me right there, or order me on my knees to suck him, or just tie me and leave me there, shivering and sore with my ass in the air for anyone to see.

That’s what in my head, but I can’t say all that to him, much as I feel like talking right now. Maybe he can see how much I want it on my face, though. Christ, do I want to give myself to him, in any way he wants. Can’t say that, either. Still have a bit of pride, so I just bow my head where it’s hanging in his grasp and close my eyes.

And then he lets me go and starts fumbling over a lot of different words that all mean no, finishing up with an offer of coffee. If I were going to cry, this would have tears prickling at my eyes, of anger and shame and raw disappointment. I should have known this was too good to be true. For a minute I think seriously about sliding to my knees and begging him to go through with whatever he was about to do, but if I know anything, it’s that you can’t force someone to want something. So I open my eyes and try to pull myself together, out of that place in my head where he sent me so quickly. “Do need some coffee,” I say shakily. “But I also need…this. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m sorry for it. Is there—is there anyway you could see your way clear to—to….” ”To hurting me?” I want to say, and can’t quite manage. God, now I’m really ashamed of myself. Why am I doing this? I’ve just met this man once before, know he’s the town doctor and but not much else. But I wanted this so badly, and now it seems like I’m not going to get it.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

Oh, shitdamnFUCK! I think he's mad, or upset or both.

“Do need some coffee,” His voice quavers, and it's all I have not to reach out at hug him. “But I also need…this. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m sorry for it. Is there—is there anyway you could see your way clear to—to….”

Wow. This is just..

"I could... maybe." Sigh and rake a hand through my hair. "You, right before I pulled away... you reminded me of my ex-fiancee'. And I am really angry at her, and really hurt, and..." And scared, and confused, and I don't normally fall flat on my face for guys and what the hell is up with me today???

"I am not sure if it is fair to you that I might be taking out my feelings for her on you. As tempted as I am." I admit, with a wry smile.

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I listen to him try to explain, and start feeling worse for him than I do for myself. Ex-fiancee? Sounds like there’s a long, sad story there, but if he doesn’t want to tell it, I’m not going to ask. It’s not the first time someone’s told me I reminded him of a girl, so I don’t take too much offense to that. “Don’t want to ask you for something you don’t want to do,” I tell him, and mean it. “But if it would help you to get it out, I would take it and thank you afterwards, truly.” Mean that too, and hope he can tell. “I don’t have many limits, and this is not my first time. If you give me rules and talk me through it, I can take—“ I swallow hard, knowing exactly what I’m offering. “I can take a lot.”

I have to stop talking for a minute, or I’m going to start begging. Don’t want him feeling sorry for me. I want to try to sound like I’m laying this out for him to look at and think over, and that I could walk away if he says no. “If you want to give it, that is,” I can say, after a bit. “If you don’t, I’ll take you up on that coffee and stop pestering you about it. And I guess I should ask if there’s something I could do to keep from reminding you of her?”

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

Oh for fucks sake he's not going to let me walk away from this, is he? Lay's it out all nice and neat, tells me I can basically do what I want to him. That's quite an offer... one that I am not sure I am able to turn down.

“I can take a lot.” My smile quirks up, just a little. There's a lewd comment to be made here, I am sure of it. “If you want to give it, that is. If you don’t, I’ll take you up on that coffee and stop pestering you about it. And I guess I should ask if there’s something I could do to keep from reminding you of her?”

He's giving us an out, both of us, so close to begging but trying to be casual and that damn offer hangs in the air.

"Doubt it... if you're not reminding me of her, you are making me think how much she'd love to have you for a night or two." I sigh, shaking my head. "She has a taste for submissive men."

Take a moment to try and think but fuck, if I can't get past this room and his eagerness. "Not looking for a relationship, am I understood?" I ask softly, then grab his hair and throw him towards the exam table. "Strip. I want to see what I am being offered." I say flatly, crossing my arms again and leaning against the table.

ooc: sent you a pm

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Listening to him talk about his fiancée does make me want to meet her, but I shove that thought aside as foolishness when I’ve got this man standing in front of me. The way he’s half-smiling makes me thing he’s going to take me up on my offer, and I try to get my head around that thought again. He says something about not looking for a relationship, and I’m opening my mouth to agree when he grabs my hair and shoves me back against the table, hard enough to hurt and give me an idea of just how strong he is.

I’m just getting my balance back when he tells me to strip in a tone that says he could care less, but I’d better make it fast if I want anything. God, yes. I put my head up and look him in the eye, fingers working down the buttons of my shirt as fast as they can. Shrug it off, fold it, and lay it behind me. “Not many limits doesn’t mean none, sir,” I tell him, quiet but firm. “No knives or needles, no shit, and don’t pull my hair again. With respect, sir. And my safeword’s cinnamon. Please remember it.” Either what I’m saying or the way I’m saying it is bound to make him angrier, but it needed to be said before we got into things.

I bend over and start working at my boot with shaking fingers, praying that this is not the morning the laces pick to snap or stick. It’s not, thank God, and I get them off and my socks without making a fool of myself. I set them behind me and straighten up, keeping my head down, though, and I start working at my pants. Push them down, with my shorts, and step out of them.

Fold them up, then think to pull the belt out. I set the pants with my shirt and drop to my knees with as much grace as I can muster, folding the belt up in quarters. It’s a good, thick leather belt with a heavy buckle that used to belong to my father, and I know what it feels like very, very well. I sit back on my heels and offer it up to him with my head bowed, just waiting to see what he wants of me next.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

He lays out what he doesn't like, and I can't help but sigh a little at the no hair pulling thing. Damn. Full head of hair, what a waste.

"Cinnamon?" I say, quirking an eyebrow as he strips. "Fine, remembered."

Jarmyn strips down, and I have to admit, he's not bad or all the ink. None of the lean, pale, grace of Dorian, nor the familiarity of Tez, but a fine cut of a man. My cock likes what I'm seeing...

but something's not quite clicking in my head. I push the thought aside and take the belt he's offering me. It's got a weight to it, and I test it, snapping it against my hand. Nice sting.

"Stand up, turn around, and bend over the table." I instruct, and when he does as I comply, I kick his feet apart further. He grabs the edges of the table, and I wait for a few moments, to let the anticipation build...

then swing my arm hard and catch him right across the ass with the doubled up belt, buckle in my hand. He jumps and gasps, and I smile at the sound. The area immediately blooms a bright red welt.

"You will could out the blows." I say flatly, walking back and forth a bit. "I will go to twenty. You call out the safety, I stop, but we're done. You miss a number, I start all over from the beginning. Understood?"

Once he gives his answer, I swing my arm and catch him across the backs of his thighs. And I wait for the number...

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

He takes the belt from me, and I hear the snap as he tries it out. The sound makes me shiver. He leaves me on my knees a moment, and then orders me up and over the table. Which is what I was expecting, but getting to my feet seems a lot harder than it should. I’m out of practice, and God, do I need this. I lift my head as I stand, careful not to look him in the eye, and turn around.

He can see I’m hard, can see all of me and hasn’t said a word about what he thinks of any of it. The only comment he makes is to spread my feet farther apart. Suddenly it’s very important for me to know if he likes what he sees, but he hasn’t given me permission to speak. He hasn’t told me not to, either, but it’s even more important to me that I not disappoint him. So I just bend over like he’s ordered, rising up on my toes a bit to make sure I present a good target.

He lets me wait a while, of course, lets the feeling of being displayed and vulnerable sink in fully. I just put my head to one side and concentrate on watching one hand where it grasps the edge of the table. I know what’s coming, and I know what that belt feels like, but it still catches me off guard when he cracks it down at what feels like full strength. Thank God he didn’t start with the buckle. I’d rather not bleed this early into things. It’s the noise that hits me first, before the pain, and I know better than to tense, but I can’t help it. I gasp and come up on my toes, feeling the heat of it spread all over my ass.

I’m about to open my mouth and thank him when he starts telling me to count and the number, and thank God, he’s giving me rules. I can do this. I take a breath to calm myself down enough to speak. “Yes, sir, understood.” He doesn’t answer, so I know what’s coming and try to just relax. There’s nothing I can do except take it, and if he’s doing this for, the least I can do is take it well.

He aims lower this time, and the stripe of sharp warmth spreads across my thighs, feeling like its cut me to the bone. “One, sir,” I gasp, and then have a thought. “Or two?” I ask, and then curse myself. “Sorry, sir.” But I’ve gone and fucked it up now.