Jesus Christ (
forallyoucare) wrote2017-01-10 12:08 pm
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JC wasn’t sure when the voices started. They popped up here or there in his childhood, usually egging him on to do something dangerous. His mum use to say that he was playing with an imaginary friend, but the voice was never a solid thing to run down to the corner shop with or to throw sticks in the river with when the other boys in the neighborhood thought he was too weird or creepy to hang around with. The voice never stuck around either so JC couldn’t exactly blame it. And he sounded mad when he did.
After a rather detrimental and insistent period in his teenage years, culminating in one very big adventure that nearly gave his parents a heart attack when the voice demanded that he go all the way to the city for a few days without telling anyone, it disappeared for a long, long time.
But that sweet, familiar persistence came back again one afternoon where they were just leaving a coffee house after a small after-concert rally with the Twelve, or while he was showing Andrew a cat video that one of their online supporters tweeted him, or when he was by himself in the woods looking up at the sun through the sky-- He didn’t know when it started but it was back again and it was itching at his skull like sand stuck behind his eyes.
All he knew was that they needed to start reaching more people. Facebook and Twitter were fine. Tumblr worked. The new Youtube channel seemed to be doing all right but the coffee shops in small towns around their home base? The venues were just too small. They needed to travel, together. All of them.
That’s when he went to Judas with his idea. Err…the voice’s idea. “What if we rented and RV and traveled? We could book gigs everywhere!”
After a rather detrimental and insistent period in his teenage years, culminating in one very big adventure that nearly gave his parents a heart attack when the voice demanded that he go all the way to the city for a few days without telling anyone, it disappeared for a long, long time.
But that sweet, familiar persistence came back again one afternoon where they were just leaving a coffee house after a small after-concert rally with the Twelve, or while he was showing Andrew a cat video that one of their online supporters tweeted him, or when he was by himself in the woods looking up at the sun through the sky-- He didn’t know when it started but it was back again and it was itching at his skull like sand stuck behind his eyes.
All he knew was that they needed to start reaching more people. Facebook and Twitter were fine. Tumblr worked. The new Youtube channel seemed to be doing all right but the coffee shops in small towns around their home base? The venues were just too small. They needed to travel, together. All of them.
That’s when he went to Judas with his idea. Err…the voice’s idea. “What if we rented and RV and traveled? We could book gigs everywhere!”
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"I didn't say-- I do want sex. With you. You're not connecting the dots here." Simon smirked. "But it's not about the sex. An example? Let me tell you exactly how I'd want my tomorrow with you to go."
If Peter was going to misunderstand him and not really ask questions then Simon would be blunt.
"We wake up in the morning. I tell you to make me coffee and you do it. You're holding the cup and kneeling on the floor by the couch. I watch the news and have my coffee and then tell you that you're released until we leave. Meaning, you're just Peter and my not pet, but I choose your clothing. Or you ask me to wear something. If I don't like it, I say no and you don't argue. We go to help with the bus. John wants you to hang out for dinner. You ask me permission. I give it. I tell you that you must be back by seven. You get stuck because the bus is late and you text. I know you're fine but you still disobeyed an order. So when you come home, I command you to crawl into the living room and I paddle you five times for it. After, we make a snack together and maybe put on a movie. You lay with your head in my lap and I stroke your hair. We go to bed, and since this is still new to you, I blindfold you, but leave your hands and feet free. I tell you to lay still and touch you however I want. Slowly. I don't let you come. If you move, I paddle you again. If you're good, I let you suck me off. You won't be rewarded with an orgasm that night because you have to earn them. And pets that come home late haven't earned it."
Simon watched Peter's face as he spoke.
"So it's not bedroom stuff. Get it now? It's every aspect of our lives together. I don't want to be your parents. I want to control you."
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He finally looked away, then let out a slow breath. So in many aspects, his mind pointed out, he would be giving up a great deal. Caleb's words stuck with him, about how the subs actually had control, but he wasn't entirely sure he understood or believed that, hearing it. He frowned, staring at the floor. He wanted to be with Simon, and this was what it meant. Simon was an unbending figure in his mind, which meant he would have to change. He also had been told to ask, so, he did. "So I would be giving up my freedom, in a sense. Agreed upon." He tilted his gaze to Simon's, trying to read him in return. "So what do I get for giving it up? I would get you, but... it doesn't seem equal?"
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"There's no such thing as equality in a relationship. One person always makes more money. Or does more of the cleaning. Or makes all the dinners. Has more friends. Gets more attention--". Simon didn't believe in equality. He believed in fairness but fairness did not mean equal. He also believed in anarchy. And anarchy could never mean equal. "You'll have to figure out for yourself what you get out of it. Me. Yes. Not having to make decisions. Some people like that. And the ability to stop at any time for any reason. It's what I have to offer. The rest... The terms... We negotiate those."
Peter was young and he was naive enough that Simon felt guilty for even trying to have this conversation with him. It had been a mistake.
"I... I'm not going to talk you into anything. That would make me a creep. I can't do that to you. I'm sorry I-- I'm just sorry. I don't know what I was thinking or expecting." Judas had put too much hope in his head.
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"I just don't get the feeling 'trying' is something you want. It feels like you want all or nothing, and the idea of constantly getting punished for something I don't know about is... strange. Doing something I know is wrong? That makes sense," it made sense? But yeah, his mind told him it did, "but there's so much I don't know."
He took a very quick breath, his fingers curling in. "If you could have had all this stuff before, whenever you wanted... why haven't you taken it? Why don't you already have someone?"
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"It's the people. You have to-- I want a connection. Not just someone who has only side of me. I don't want that all the time. I mean, I can go days or weeks without really wanting a pet. And for awhile, it was fine to scratch an itch, yanno? I gave up my clients. I can't start relationships with people that used to pay me. And some of the people I sleep with sometimes aren't really my type."
Simon didn't look sad. Just resigned. Like he knew and understood what he was getting at with all of this and he was already counting on not getting anything. He put his fork on his plate, a way for sound to detract or deflect the situation.
"There's someone out there for everyone. The world's just too chaotic to always find them. I think I was getting too carried away with the thought of having you without stopping to think how you might feel about it." He pushed his chair back as if signaling a finite end to this conversation.
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"But."
He took a breath, fingers flexing. "You want terms? Negotiations? Then I need to know I'm not going to get punished for everything because I don't know it. But if you teach me something, and I still do it wrong? Then I'll accept whatever it is. I don't want to feel afraid or stupid because I'm so new to this. We figure out a way that I can signal I'm not happy with something when we're in public. I want to keep this between us-- or at least not with the Twelve or JC or the whole world finding out. If that takes texting to ask you for things, then sure. I can do that."
His fingers were gripping each other so tightly they almost hurt, knuckles white.
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Huh. Peter either really liked him or-- no. There was no or in this. Peter really liked him. Simon was quiet for the whole thing, he stood at the sink and rinsed off his plate. He did the same for his fork and his knife and he waited until he was finished before he spoke.
"One thing first. And then we can discuss terms." He turned, drying off his hands, and let the towel drop to the counter. "Because you need to understand something about what punishment will mean." Most subs liked the spanking. They enjoyed it deeply. The tingle, the excitement of knowing what was coming. And then the cool down. The after care. It was not at all meant to be anything but an enjoyment. And that was why every little misfire or faux pas would lead to it. Otherwise, a sub night never be spanked, as they would always be trying to please their masters.
Should Peter take his offered hand, he would guide him to the sofa and then sit himself in the centre. "This might be awkward, but lay over my knee? I won't hurt you."
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But his head tilted, looking up at Simon from the corner of his eye, clearly still unsure even if he trusted, but there he was, in the position Simon had probably had a few wet dreams about... just a bit more clothed.
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Simon took his time. He shouldn't really. This wasn't about enjoyment. That didn't stop him from gazing at the dark purple covered rear lifted towards him. "Bend your knees a bit. And you'll want to rest on your elbows. Unless you discover that you enjoy the relief that comes after purposefully making yourself uncomfortable, you're going to want to relax a little. Head down..."
He make little guiding touching as he explained all of this in a cool and overly calm manner.
"Weight back on your knees, yes, that's lovely and arch your back, bit more... All right. I'm going to hit you as you exhale. Count me down from six. Every number should be an exhale."
Simon couldn't help himself but run a hand from the small of Peter's back to the curve of his bottom and the back of his thighs. When the Scottish man exhaled at one, he spanked him. Gently but still with some force. It was meant to be more surprising than painful and the blow would cause Peter's crotch to rock against his thigh. Perhaps Peter would put two and two together as to why Mindy kept her ankles crossed. It was all about the little pleasurable sensations.
"Are you all right to have another? Count down again for me. From five this time." He'd ask again to start at four. And then three. And he'd keep going until there was just a spank on one left, if Peter let him.
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His entire body jumped at the strike. He knew it was coming but it still took him by surprise despite it. He tensed, feeling oddly like his nerves had been briefly shocked, leaving him staring at the ground with wide eyes. It hadn't... hurt, not exactly, but it should have. Shouldn't it? Or was Simon being gentle? Mindy's skin had turned quite red, but-
But he found himself counting down, trying to prepare himself for the next but when it came, it was almost worst - better? - than the first. He didn't quite know what to do with himself, his fingers grasping for something until one ended up holding to Simon's ankle awkwardly. When it was all said and done, though, he was laying there, breathing harder than he expected, not sure what to think.
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Simon didn't ask anything of Peter after that. He just lightly rubbed circles against his thighs through those delicious pants of his. He had answers to all of the questions in Peter's head, like how easy it was to raise redness on delicate skin that rarely saw sunlight with only a minor pressure and that Peter was likely bright red too back there, but if the other man didn't ask, Simon couldn't answer.
It would be a little while of some gentleness before the blond spoke, voice calm.
"And that was a typical punishment."
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"Nothing worse?" Quiet, but it felt like he was testing his voice again. "...for a first infraction?" But Peter wasn't running. He wasn't insulted or disgusted or anything else. Instead, accent a little thicker, voice a little thicker... he had enjoyed it, but he didn't know what to make of that fact just yet.
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"That's what negotiating is about." Simon said this was a thickness to his breathing and a dilation to his eyes. He reached up to touch Peter's neck as if he was made of precious glass and breakable, funny considering he's just spanked him, or perhaps like he might stain something so pure with a touch of bare fingers. "The communication would need to be constant..."
And that was also funny because right now Simon, who had done so much talking over the last half an hour, was silent. It was difficult to speak when kissing, however, and his need to kiss Peter had finally toppled over. Both hands held the younger man's face. Steady. Still. Careful.
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Oh.
The kiss felt sweet, heated, and sung right down through him and back up again. Peter almost laughed at the feeling, leaning into the kiss eagerly. This, at least, he had done before, and he was the sort to be almost delicate, pulling his lips back ever so slightly to return again, eyes closed and body relaxed. Simon's hands felt strong and sure against his skin, but almost as if Simon was afraid to break him.
Maybe he didn't want Simon to be so careful anymore.
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It was new to him. Not new in the sense of a new pair of lips to taste, or having someone so fresh against him. This was something better. Oh so much better. He did really enjoy Peter, as a person. It was better than with Judas, who knew more about him than most, probably because this was so much more tenuous.
Peter made him think in poetry.
He liked it. He liked it enough to grin as he drew back, lifting his weight to pull a leg beneath him so he could kiss Peter again. with more leverage.
Hopefully Peter would understand now that Simon was willing to go slow with this. Yeah. He meant that much.
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Instead, he let out a pleased little sigh against Simon's lips, arching his back slightly in an encouraging way to press their chests together. How far would Simon go tonight? ...Would he enjoy it if they went further if it wasn't tinged yet with his lifestyle, or was that just too boring for him?
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Simon was a gentleman. He was not entirely religious, not in the way that Judas sort of bucked the whole god thing, but in a more agnostic sort of way, and though he definitely didn't have a way for marriage sort of mindset, he liked to stretch it out. Especially when it was supposed to matter and they were not near enough done with talking.
Tonight was sort of a learning curve for them both and in all glorious honesty, Peter could probably get away with murder right now with how he made Simon feel. Like he was too full. Like he wanted to scream, but in a really good way. And none of that made sense.
So when he pulled back, he was laughing, a sort of pleased, pleasant, laugh, like he'd just figured something out that had been bothering him for a long time now.
"Wow. I'm... I'm going to take you home-- Not because you did anything wrong but because-- I just want to take it slow with you. And I won't. If you stay."
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"...and if I stay?" His voice was a little lower, quiet, just between them as he watched Simon's expression carefully. Just how far would Simon go tonight if he stayed? What games did Simon want to play?
It was a surprise for himself to realize he wanted to find out.
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"You're not staying," Simon said firmly. "But I'll come by for breakfast." He wasn't too good at this give and take aspect of a relationship. Not when there was the promise of something more beneath it. He couldn't help but put his foot down, however, and down it went, complete with the rest of his body too as he pulled himself, and Peter, off of the couch. "I'll bring something. I've seen how James and John keep their stove."
No wonder Judas tended not to venture out of the basement that often. Too many guys and their personal hygiene just faltered over a sense of laziness.
"Don't make me fireman carry you out."
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He stood up, going to grab his bag. Fine. Sure. It would give him time to think this over. It told him volumes if Simon couldn't even go a single night without things going /that/ way.
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Simon watched him, watched his face, and followed Peter to the door with a smirk before he reached out to grab his arm.
"Tell me the exact reason why you're mad," he said with a light but still commanding voice. Did he ask? No. Simon never asked when he wanted results. "And be specific."
This ought to be interesting. He wanted Peter to really think about his anger here.
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"So you're mad because I want to wait to have sex with you." Just a statement. Not accusatory at all. "Can't a guy these days want to actually do things the old fashioned way and court a guy." He leaned against the door on his elbow. His eyes focused intently on Peter, watching his face with a pleased little chuckle at the way he was so exasperated.
So cute. He didn't let himself touch him.
"I'm tired of one night stands, Petey. You're worth the slow burn."
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Still, he sighed. The frown he gave Simon was a touch insulted. "...I didn't plan on being a one night stand, you know." But he shifted the bag up to his shoulder. "I still don't." He wanted to touch Simon again, he wanted to know that he wasn't just being thrown out because that was what it felt like despite Simon's words, but he was doing everything in his power to keep those thoughts packed down tight.
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He set his hand on the wall by Peter's head. His eyebrows lifted and he half smiled at the younger man.
"Or are you giving me an ultimatum, Petey? Sex tonight or that's it?" He'd told him that his will wasn't completely disregarded. He just wanted the control of it. "If you really want me to fuck you, I will."
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