I didn't have sex enough times to make quota, so now I have three days left to do knifeplay with someone or I'll end up forced to do it with the nearest person. I'm sure you can see why I'd rather not get that far.
[Maybe luck is with Jamie, because Lucien manages to get form the Down to the Up with relative ease. He even manages to get to the high-rise without any harassment, and eventually he gets to the proper door number. He knocks, supposing he ought not just walk into a flat, though he's relatively sure he can handle whatever might be on the other side.
Lucien rolls his shoulders. Despite the temperate weather, he's wearing the heavy coat he arrived in. He cocks his head when the door opens.]
Actually maybe just doing it with a random stranger would be better than this, whatever the fuck this was.
"Come in," Jamie said instead of voicing it, stepping back from the door so he could close it behind Lucien. "You got something we can use, or no?" Lucien seemed like the kind of guy who might just have a knife on him.
Lucien shrugs out of his coat, revealing the black scimitar he'd been hiding beneath it. He also holds up a sheathed knife he found... somewhere. Don't worry about it.
The first thing was more of a fucking sword, and it was not called swordplay, so Jamie didn't even consider it as a viable option. The sheathed knife was more in line.
"Let me see it," he said, holding out a hand. He'd inspect the edge to make sure it would cut well, and then he'd make sure the blade was sanitized. There were good and bad ways to do these things, and Lucien didn't seem like he was particularly up on, you know, germ theory.
Lucien offers the knife over, hilt first. The blade is clean and sharp, and while Lucien might not have a thorough understanding of germ theory, he knows damn well you don't want to use a dirty blade to break skin.
Given the number of scars he has, surely his expertise is relatively clear one way or another.
"I'm not out to give you gangrene. You're interesting."
It was enough to make Jamie smile as he looked over the blade. He nodded approvingly at the knife. "Let's just clean it for extra safety," he said, setting it down on the counter.
He ducked into the bedroom and came back with a spray bottle. A few spritzes covered the blade with it, and the sharp, antiseptic smell of alcohol filled the room for a moment. He grabbed a paper towel off the roll to dry it, then handed it back to Lucien.
"Should be about as safe as I can make it without boiling some water."
Lucien watches with mild interest as Jamie does whatever it is he needs to do to the blade and the sharp scent of alcohol makes him wrinkle his nose. He wonders if it'll sting more now when it breaks skin.
"Want is not the word," he said before he could stop himself, and sighed. He knew he shouldn't say shit like that, alienate the only person he currently trusted to help him. But he shook his head, unable to make himself lie about it now that he'd started. "I don't know, man, they didn't give me instructions other than fucking, go do knifeplay or you'll be forced to. What I want is to have a little control over it."
He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Sorry. It's not your fault, I shouldn't snap at you."
"Isn't it?" he asks mildly. He recalls some vigorous scratching and biting by request. But this is a different circumstance, one not entirely driven by choice, and that's clearly chafing on Jamie. Lucien listens, taking it in bit by bit. Then he nods.
"Alright then. Let's give you some control." He steps closer. "I'm here, we'll worry about this in a minute."
When he says this, he flips the knife again. It can come in later, he'll make sure of that at least. But they don't need to start there.
There was a little bit of empathy in that comment, the admission that Lucien would do more than snap, and Jamie looked up at him with an expression somewhere between anxiety and gratitude. He sighed and looked back down.
"Okay," he said softly, then sniffed once and looked up, chin high, visibly shaking it off. "Okay," he said again, louder. "Let's start with my favorite, then, and work our way around." He nodded Lucien toward the bedroom, then made to lead the way.
The dresser had a few candles in jars on it, and it was easy to see that they'd all had wax poured out of them from how it had hardened up the sides and on the rims. He picked up a lighter and lit them. "You used anything like this before?" he asked.
He trails after Jamie and sets the knife somewhere within reach of the bed as Jamie lights candles. He tips his head curiously at the question. Lucien assumes it's something to do with sex, so he can honestly answer:
"No. You use the wax?" he asks after taking it in, noticing the way the wax has dried like it's been poured over and over. He's had plenty of uses for wax outside of the bedroom.
This was easy territory, teaching someone what to do, and Jamie was a little pleased to have discovered something that was new to Lucien. "Exactly." He lit all three of the candles that sat there and then picked up the first one. He held out his forearm and dripped a few drops in a line down his wrist, making himself sigh with pleasure as it raised goosebumps.
"Wanna try it?" he asked, offering the candle. "See what it feels like? Probably hurts less for you, since you run hot," he observed.
He watches, unflinching as the wax drips, leaving quickly-cooling dots on Jamie's skin. The sigh that escapes the other man also doesn't go unnoticed and Lucien's tail twists and flicks.
"Not sure it'll hurt at all, but far be it from me to say so without trying."
He runs hot and he has a particular resistance to damage from heat, but maybe the hot wax will still feel like something interesting enough to pursue. Lucien rolls up his sleeve, exposing tattooed skin before he takes the candle. After a moment of considering, he bears the inside of his arm and dribbles wax there. He feels it, certainly. He can even feel the heat of it as it hits his skin, but it doesn't hurt.
And it takes longer to firm up than it did on Jamie's skin, meaning it slides over the curve of his arm before becoming more solid.
Jamie's eyebrows went up as he watched the wax slide over Lucien's skin. He'd seen that before, but only when someone had already been so abused with wax that their skin was superheated. "Well, I don't really know how else to explain the burn," he said, reaching out to pick the wax off Lucien's arm. "But I'm thinking maybe, when there's enough on me to be worth pulling it off..."
His eyes slid to the knife. Knifeplay, after all, didn't only mean cutting, and the threat and thrill of having wax picked off with a blade sounded hot.
"I can imagine the burn, don't worry." It might take more heat to do it, but Lucien isn't completely immune. A grin creeps across Lucien's face as Jamie makes his suggestion clear.
"Might be a bit tricky to just peel, hm? Suits me."
He sets the candle back where Jamie had picked it up and closes the space between them. He leans close, head tipped to avoid knocking the other man in the head with a horn.
"You're wearin far too much to be an art project, don't you think?" Lucien lowers his voice to a purr and plucks lightly at Jamie's shirt.
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[At least his good humor hasn't completely run out.]
there a reason you're asking?
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[It's embarrassing just to admit it.]
I didn't have sex enough times to make quota, so now I have three days left to do knifeplay with someone or I'll end up forced to do it with the nearest person. I'm sure you can see why I'd rather not get that far.
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that's one way to make new friends
now
what does this have to do with me?
[As if he doesn't know.]
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You seemed like you'd know what you're doing and be at least minimally trustworthy not to cut me worse than I say.
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You still haven't asked me anything.
[Manners.]
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Come do knifeplay with me before I have to do it with a stranger, please.
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Where and when?
I'd offer here but uh
only if you want an audience
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[And Jamie can pray to whoever he likes that Lucien won't be delayed by SIN guards or anyone else.]
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>> action
Lucien rolls his shoulders. Despite the temperate weather, he's wearing the heavy coat he arrived in. He cocks his head when the door opens.]
You rang?
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"Come in," Jamie said instead of voicing it, stepping back from the door so he could close it behind Lucien. "You got something we can use, or no?" Lucien seemed like the kind of guy who might just have a knife on him.
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Lucien shrugs out of his coat, revealing the black scimitar he'd been hiding beneath it. He also holds up a sheathed knife he found... somewhere. Don't worry about it.
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"Let me see it," he said, holding out a hand. He'd inspect the edge to make sure it would cut well, and then he'd make sure the blade was sanitized. There were good and bad ways to do these things, and Lucien didn't seem like he was particularly up on, you know, germ theory.
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Given the number of scars he has, surely his expertise is relatively clear one way or another.
"I'm not out to give you gangrene. You're interesting."
A virtue that Lucien doesn't often overlook.
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He ducked into the bedroom and came back with a spray bottle. A few spritzes covered the blade with it, and the sharp, antiseptic smell of alcohol filled the room for a moment. He grabbed a paper towel off the roll to dry it, then handed it back to Lucien.
"Should be about as safe as I can make it without boiling some water."
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He accepts the knife back and absently spins it.
"So, what exactly are you wanting?"
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He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Sorry. It's not your fault, I shouldn't snap at you."
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"Alright then. Let's give you some control." He steps closer. "I'm here, we'll worry about this in a minute."
When he says this, he flips the knife again. It can come in later, he'll make sure of that at least. But they don't need to start there.
"I'd be doin more than snappin at people."
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"Okay," he said softly, then sniffed once and looked up, chin high, visibly shaking it off. "Okay," he said again, louder. "Let's start with my favorite, then, and work our way around." He nodded Lucien toward the bedroom, then made to lead the way.
The dresser had a few candles in jars on it, and it was easy to see that they'd all had wax poured out of them from how it had hardened up the sides and on the rims. He picked up a lighter and lit them. "You used anything like this before?" he asked.
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"No. You use the wax?" he asks after taking it in, noticing the way the wax has dried like it's been poured over and over. He's had plenty of uses for wax outside of the bedroom.
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"Wanna try it?" he asked, offering the candle. "See what it feels like? Probably hurts less for you, since you run hot," he observed.
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"Not sure it'll hurt at all, but far be it from me to say so without trying."
He runs hot and he has a particular resistance to damage from heat, but maybe the hot wax will still feel like something interesting enough to pursue. Lucien rolls up his sleeve, exposing tattooed skin before he takes the candle. After a moment of considering, he bears the inside of his arm and dribbles wax there. He feels it, certainly. He can even feel the heat of it as it hits his skin, but it doesn't hurt.
And it takes longer to firm up than it did on Jamie's skin, meaning it slides over the curve of his arm before becoming more solid.
"I can see the aesthetic appeal," he says.
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His eyes slid to the knife. Knifeplay, after all, didn't only mean cutting, and the threat and thrill of having wax picked off with a blade sounded hot.
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"Might be a bit tricky to just peel, hm? Suits me."
He sets the candle back where Jamie had picked it up and closes the space between them. He leans close, head tipped to avoid knocking the other man in the head with a horn.
"You're wearin far too much to be an art project, don't you think?" Lucien lowers his voice to a purr and plucks lightly at Jamie's shirt.
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