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draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
saltburnmods) wrote in draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
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π πππ'π ππππππππ ππππ πππππππππ ππππ β£ SEPT TDM
SEPTEMBER 2024 TDM: LUGHNASADH
Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.
Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.
WELCOME TO SALTBURNT
It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isnβt, stay in bed and wallow β eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe itβs normal for you. Maybe it isnβt.
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
β momofuku's "cereal milk" β
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
THE SWEETS
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE
CONTENT WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol, nudity, potential for nsfw.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
FRUITS OF LABOUR
CONTENT WARNINGS: body horror, gore, cannibalism.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
DIRECTORY
no subject
[ it's all the invitation that nick needs to wind his arms around august's neck and pull him in for a kiss that's far less sweet and chaste. he's quick to lick into his mouth, to hike a leg up until it's hooked up around august's hip. he's still slow, still indulgent, there's nothing frantic about nick's movements. he's going to keep him here a while, is what august said. there's no need for nick to rush at all.
kissing like this, in a fancy ass bed with no thought to what might be coming tomorrow, it makes him feel sixteen again with a wistful kind of twist that makes him wonder just how long this can last. a few days, a week--never more, he's noticed of course. does he have to set a timer here too? but he doesn't want to think about that, so nick doesn't. instead nick just works on tugging down hard and insistent on august's neck until he can encourage the collapse of august's body down onto his own, closing the gap even as he breaks the kiss to suck in a breath of air and brush kisses into the skin of his cheek. ]
I'm not tired, I think I need wearing out. Know anyone that can help with that?
no subject
he lets out a low chuckle, deep in his throat. the break allows him to nip at Nick's ear. he wants him here for hours, for days. yearns for him so badly that when he's finished with him, he won't be able to move from this spot.]
You're going to regret saying that.
[nimble fingers work the clasp, metal clinking together and zipper undone. he may be locked in place by Nick's leg, but his hand works fast. he kisses him again, intentionally sloppy so he can wet his hand with their combined spit. yes, he's going to keep him here a while. no, he doesn't need to rush. but slipping his hand under clothes to grip around Nick's member and give a few tantalizing tugs is all he can think about right now - he wants to make him beg for it.]
no subject
[ they say it like a pledge -- and it is almost, in a way. nick could be sobbing and exhausted and broken and he'd still ask august for more. beg, probably, if he had to, just to get a little bit more from him. nick is so hungry, it's almost too intense. it's almost too much entirely, and god knows he probably shouldn't encourage a fire that burns as intensely as this one.
but. august's hand finds his zipper and nick's thoughts go blank, any rationality gone in favour of just thinking 'more, more more'. his breath is already hitching before a palm even finds him, and he moans low and breathy into august's mouth as his fingers find nick's cock. god, it's been weeks since he's seen august, maybe longer. he should be relishing this, enjoying every moment, but all he wants to do right now is tear off all their clothes, quite literally.
he's got some semblance of self-control--but only a little. enough that he starts fumbling for buttons when he wants to rip them open, pushing at his and august's waistbands one after the other, trying to wiggle them down without sacrificing any of the contact they're sharing. ]
no subject
fist full of his cock, he's pumping him a bit faster with each stroke, then slowing the pace down. their spit lubed his hand well; only slick wet sounds and their heavy breaths filling the air. he doesn't want to let him go, even as Nick pushes at their waistbands and has their clothes inching down. more clashing of lips, he's slowing down.]
Fuck. Hold on - hold on.
[the only time he swears is in the bedroom, loosened up and warmed with sex on the menu. they can't get very far if August keeps him pinned, so he pulls away just long enough to discard his clothes and get Nick out of his. back on top of him, skin to skin, his mouth with sensual kisses against his neck as one hand is back to where he wants it to be: working his dick while his own aches to be touched.]
no subject
but it was the right choice, clearly, because the second they're naked and nick can feel him everywhere he gasps like a shock, arching up his back to try and grab up as much of that contact as possible. august runs hot, he always has done, but it's never been a problem for nick who can just run a little cooler to match. they fit, they fit, in all the ways that mean anything, and the skin just below august's ear fits perfectly between nick's teeth as he hitches both his legs up around august's waist now, grinds up into him slow and full of intent. ]
Gus. [ nick pants like a whisper and a prayer, right up against his ear, sighs satisfied and wanting and whispers again. ] August, please, don't make me wait.
no subject
he's grinding into him and August is returning the favor, both with his hand and body. thumb slides over the head of his dick, sticky with precum. he wants him to be messy because of him, wants him slathered in everything that August is. tongue licks up along his neck, teeth nip into jawline.]
Say it again.
[but he's already rising up to look down at him for a fuller view, palm planted on the mattress, seeing the glow of sweat and rise and fall of Nick's chest. the air around them feels electric with magic, the lights buzzing as though they're about to burst. he's looking at Nick with so much hunger it's sinful.]
no subject
his hips jerk up into august's hand, no shame at all in the movements as he chases the friction of august's fingers wrapped around him. he just wants everything so much, even when the wants are at odds with each other. wants august's eyes on him but has the urge to drag him back down into another kiss at the same time, wants august to keep his palm sliding against nick's cock but wants august's fingers stuffed inside of him, wants august to tear him apart piece by piece and hold him together all at once. ]
August.
[ but that is easy. august's name falls from his lips as easily as breathing, and he drops his arms back onto the bed, goes slack against the mattress, stretching out underneath august's gaze and relishing it. it's intoxicating, if he could keep that gaze on him forever he just might, but for now he just wets his lips, swallows, tilts his head back to bare his throat for august. ]
Do you have any idea what I'd do for you?
no subject
a world of wanting blooming in his chest, warming his insides when Nick says his name again. yeah, that'll do it. his lips part and his breaths become more shallow, and as any beast would strike, he does, mouth and teeth dragging along his neck once more. Nick's opening himself up only for him, leaving himself vulnerable. he loves him here, loves the pulse he feels under his tongue and throb in his palm.
truthfully? he doesn't know what Nick would do. he knows his limits, knows just about everything else, but the question gives him pause in his heady actions to pull away again, eyes glazed with lust.]
Tell me.
[would this moment allow for more than only lust, though? would he tell him more than he's ever told him here, naked with his cock in August's hand? maybe not with it in his hand, he decides. what can he get out of him by other means?
he releases his member, sucks two of his fingers into his mouth and savors the taste, making eye contact as he does so. his hand his brought back down again, one spit-slicked finger teasing at Nick's entrance before sliding inside.]
no subject
nick's eyes flutter closed and open again just as quickly, because he's not willing to break that gaze even as something big and intense swells in his chest. what would he do for august, exactly? the answer would probably scare both of them. ]
Anything.
[ it's maybe something of a cop out but it's also only the start, there's clearly more brewing. nick deliberately tries to still himself a little more, to stop himself from chasing sensation and moaning his way out of a real answer. he wants august to know, after all. he wouldn't have said it if he didn't. ]
Tell me to stay in this bed forever, I'll never leave. You need magic? You have mine. [ promises, whispered, making them closer to oaths, and he doesn't break the gaze. it's too much, probably, nick knows he can be sometimes. he's--intense, sometimes, but then so is august. maybe it isn't offputting. maybe more words spill out of his mouth anyway, even if they're terrifying, because the ball is already rolling now and some oaths simply demand to be pledged out loud. ] I'd cut out my heart if you needed it.
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words are only words, but he's spilling what becomes vows while August's magic buzzes and wraps around them, seducing in its eerie touch. the floors rumble and the bed nearly shakes, vibrations sent up through the mattress. he's high off the thrill of having him here, and maybe it's wrong that he's losing control, but he wants to be burned onto him permanently. his fingers go deeper, deeper, stretching to his knuckles. he has to be ready, because as much he wants to thrust himself inside of him, he doesn't want him to hurt. not yet, not like that. he steals another kiss, one so hard it's bruising.]
Promise me, [his free hand grips into one of the pillows next to Nick's head, grabbing a fistful of plush fabric and down. the intensity is returned two-fold, eyes burning into his. breathless and needy.] promise me you'll give me your heart, and I'll give you mine.
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nick hadn't tried to pull magic into his words but he can feel that it's happened anyway, and maybe it would be smart to back down a little now before they say anything binding. because it's not nick's magic that's weaving into their words, nature that can be bent and bowed and broken without real repercussion. even broken things grow anew, a pact made with his magic isn't a guarantee, just a promise. august, though.
whatever he says next, he'll be held to it. even caught up in the moment nick knows the prickle against his skin and what it means. nick looks into august's eyes and knows that something is happening here. he's not an idiot.
it's just that he doesn't care. ]
Take it. [ nick stretches up suddenly, goes for a kiss, but it's not just that. nick takes august's lip between his teeth and bites, quick and sharp and hard enough to draw blood. if there was ever any doubt on whether nick knew exactly what he was doing, that would almost certainly put it to bed. ] It's yours.
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teeth into flesh. he's surprised by Nick's initiative, and that only turns him on more. the taste of him and copper fill his mouth and he swallows. he has him, all of him - well, almost.]
And mine is yours.
[confirmation: bonds borne from sweat and blood. they're missing one more thing. August dove into sex magic the more he learned of Crowley, memorized his books and journals to use for personal gain. this is different - he can see that he knows it's different, yet he entertains him anyway. as if lead by invisible hands, he removes his fingers to wrap around his own cock, teasing at Nick's open, wet hole before sinking into him.
hot and tight and welcoming around him and he's the one moaning into Nick's mouth now. god, if there is a true god, this is a pleasure he will always put his entire being into. he pushes himself as far as he'll go, as far as he'll let him. he grips at Nick's hip, fingers digging into skin, easing them into a rhythm. this is what they needed.]
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because of course it was just for a moment. he knows it's coming, knows it's probably just a little too fast, but he wants that too. this isn't the first time that nick has liked the burn of being fucked just a fraction too fast, too needy and impatient to wait to be fully stretched and prepped. and in this moment in particular, with august's blood on his lips and words like a vice around his heart, it's right.
nick moans loud and shameless as august bottoms out inside of him, legs back up around his hips, hands reaching up for whatever he can grab. one hand digs in at a bicep, nails bitingly tight, and the other finds august's hair, holds him so tight he can't possibly think of moving away. not now, not after that, not when he can feel some part of august's magic touching every part of nick's. this isn't connected, this is something entirely more.
later on he might need to grapple with what that means, but right now he just pants a litany of please and august and now into his mouth, the only prayer that's ever mattered. ]
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nails are digging in and he craves more of those sounds to be made only for him. he'd never tear himself away, not in a million years. Nick keeps him held right where he's needed. he laps away any remaining blood that should stain Nick's lips as he rocks into him, sweet nothings becoming just sweet.
it feels like they're being watched by someone or something. an audience called to be sure the ritual is rite by nature, purely drawn to them only from their raw energy combined. between moans and rugged breaths he tears himself from Nick's lips only slightly, to turn his head, as if he's looking at them - but nothing is there. still his eyes are focused, not on Nick anymore. he's putting on a show now, each thrust a taunt.]
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he doesn't really need to heal it, the split would have gone away on its own eventually, but there's something about pouring magic back into august in return that seems...right. especially when august thrusts like he wants to be as far inside of nick as possible, because nick wants to climb inside of august in return. magic spills out of him, overflowing in a heady and dizzying rush that just makes him cling tighter, rock back harder.
nick doesn't even know what more looks like but he wants to ask for it anyway, digging his hands in to grip at august harder, desperate, clinging sharp and demanding. ]
Anything.
[ he says it again, a harsh whisper twisted with breathy moans, and nick isn't sure if it's another plea or a reminder. his heart, yes, but everything else too. anything else. ]
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Anything. [he repeats as Nick drags his nails along his skin.] You're perfect, you're mine.
[he's flushed, lips swollen while he ruts into him. a mating ritual, fucking and fucking, almost frenzied in how much he wants to ruin him, forgoing giving pleasure or pain for both. he loves him so much that it hurts, and it's a terrible thing to make Nick to submit to him like this to echo how he feels.
he whispers words under his breath that don't make sense, mixtures of Latin and French. he can't hold himself back from biting into Nick's lower lip, too, because all he can think about is more more more. more giving, taking, consumed by everything that he is and everything their magic is doing as they intertwine. he won't let himself cum until Nick does.]
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he isn't going to last long, not with how intense all of this is, but nick is hardly concerned with that anymore. wherever this started, casual flirting across a strange bed to reconnect, it's--something else, now. part of him wants to reach a hand down between them, wrap a hand around his cock and grind into his fist in time with august's bruising rhythm, but he doesn't. instead he just rocks his hips up enough to chase some friction against august's stomach instead. ]
Make me bleed too.
[ because he can still taste august's blood in his mouth, in his throat, and it should be both of theirs. because everything is so good, too good, and just a little spark of pain might tether him before he floats away entirely. ]
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he doesn't need to be told twice. when his lips crash into Nick's again, teeth dig into his bottom lip and bite. he breaks through skin and groans when he tastes his blood for the first time. the mark on his back sends a shudder through his body, waves of a more dark, sinister magic pooling into their sacrilege.
undone by carnality, his tongue is wanting into Nick's mouth, massaging their tongues together and nearly mimicking in how he's fucking him. he will swallow down whatever Nick doesn't. he's close - he's so close, can feel himself swelling and Nick's tighter around him with each thrust. the rhythm he's kept begins to get more unpredictable, deep grinding and fervent movements as he works to get himself there. the hand on Nick's hip manipulates him how he likes, no matter how much he's trying to match him, it's not enough.]
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nick is already careening closer to the edge but he can tell that august is getting close, and that as much as anything is doing it for him. there's something that feels particularly filthy when he breaks the kiss, only long enough to lick a stripe up his palm, because it's blood as well as saliva that smooths the way when he wraps his fingers around his own cock and strokes.
from there, it's not long at all before nick comes. he's as much kissing august again as he is just moaning against his mouth, and it only takes a few haphazard strokes before his hips jerk up and his legs tighten around august's waist. come ends up sticky and messy all over their stomachs, but nick isn't thinking about that. he's just focused on pushing back into the thrusts, muscles twitching every time august's hips snap, but nick isn't going to stop until they're both finished. ]
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Nick's using their fluids to stroke himself with and he's both fully aware of it and barely aware of anything, too busy chasing the heat that collects in his lower abdomen. he wants to bathe in how Nick feels and smells and sleep in their mess. muscles tense and he's right there-]
Nick, [through choked gasps and trying to connect everywhere, like nothing is enough. his name acts as both a warning and a desperate stutter.] Nicholas.
[he bottoms out again with more moans, more curses in another language. burying inside more roughly than intended when he comes, cock pulsing as he empties himself. there's so much, and he fucks him until he goes soft and starts getting hard again. but he's dizzy with sex and exhaustion and magic he didn't intend to use, so he does slow and finally stop. he keeps them there, entangled, but practically collapses onto Nick to give him a more gentle, prolonged kiss. an apology, a thank you, an i love you. but he doesn't say that.
the innocence stops there when his hand glides up from his hip and collects Nick's cum with his fingers to take it into his mouth for a taste. he makes a satisfied sound, but doesn't move to pry himself away.]
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august comes inside him and nick knew he would, but he's still grateful for it, some primal part of him determined to keep as much of august as he can get. this isn't at all how he'd anticipated his evening going, not even when he'd walked back to august's room with him, but his chest is full to bursting with magic and something snarling and possessive that he's starting to suspect has always been there. ]
August.
[ he whispers still, like whatever they've just done still lingers in the room. he nudges his nose in to take another kiss, tastes his come on august's tongue, kisses him longer still. he might still be crying, honestly, it's hard to say when he's feeling fit to burst, but he doesn't show any signs of dropping his legs and allowing august to pull out any time soon. ]
Are you okay?
[ nick's hands find his face, cup his cheeks, brush a thumb gently across his cheekbone. the kiss he presses to august's mouth is sweet, lingering, innocent and entirely at odds with the little rocks that nick still makes with his hips, even though he knows full well that he's far too sensitive for that right now. ]
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his mouth is loving in return, soft presses of lips to calm them down. he can't handle anything else.]
Nick. [concern that turns into a soft moan when Nick rocks his hips and he takes a deep breath, sighing through his nose. his hand runs along his side, rests there. he could start up again, thinks briefly on it. he wants to keep filling him up, wants to keep going and going and going. pause; no.] Yeah - yes. You're crying, are you okay?
[his other arm curves just enough so he can brush the hair out of Nick's face. he doesn't bother with his own, can feel a strand at the corner of his mouth stuck there by sweat.]
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Oh, god, that. [ nick snorts under his breath, not quite a full blown laugh, the air is still too fragile for anything so loud as that, but the suggestion is there. ] I'm good. Great, actually, it's just--a lot.
[ that's probably the understatement of the century. i'd carve my heart out of my chest isn't a lot, it's something massive and entirely unquantifiable actually. there it is again, that thing that nick knows but will not press on, that unacknowledged truth that nick cannot, will not look at. not even now. he already has so much, expecting any more would be foolish. greedy. he doesn't want to think about when it will be too much, not now.
so nick doesn't turn his gaze inward, he keeps himself twisted around august and all of his attention focused there instead. he thinks about the ache in his hips where the weight of august keeps his legs spread apart, and he thinks about the sticky places where their chests meet. nick holds his face and looks at august instead, naked adoration written all over his face. ]
Don't move. Not yet, I just want...
[ however that sentence is supposed to end is as much a mystery to nick as it is anyone else-- what does he 'just want', exactly? to live in this moment forever, probably, but failing that, to hold onto it just a little longer. ]
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Okay.
[he'll settle with where they are, in their musk and blood and tears and come. it's a fine place to settle, the way Nick is looking at him. has he ever looked at him like this before? he isn't sure. they haven't done a binding ritual together before, either. there are a lot of firsts happening. words get caught up and threaten to leave, mouth parting -- his jaw clenches to shut himself up.]
I know, me too.
[he does know; he doesn't want to leave this moment, because that would mean it has to end. he nuzzles his face into Nick's palm, tilts his head enough to kiss it.]
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he really does need to get a hold of himself though, because even without the horny layer of desperation clinging to him, part of nick still wants to murmur the oath back into august's skin. his heart, anything, whatever august wants to take, he could have it and more besides--nick just can't think about why he made any of those promises. ]
Do you think you could fall asleep like this?
[ sometimes nick wants things so badly it makes his teeth hurt. august kisses his palm and nick thinks he might just tear himself apart with wanting, might claw open his own chest just to get rid of this swelling pressure he feels every time he watches august's eyelashes flutter. that's a bit much though, so he'll settle for trying to doze off with august still inside of him. ]
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