Open RP Post
Sep. 25th, 2027 08:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
puppiesandrazors
↪ Use RNG and enter 1-14 for a scene; roll again for specifics.
↪ Or cheat and just pick something.
↪ You can also just throw a picture, quote, or whatever kind of prompt you want.
↪ OPTIONAL: combine a bunch of memes and scenarios and go nuts.
↪ NOT optional: HAVE ALL THE FUN OR ELSE.
↪ Note: speed may be variable depending on game threads
Shamelessly stolen and modified from Anne who shamelessly stole and modified it from Conway. Zero regrets.
A. Decide you know this person! (Castmate, previous CR, etc.)1. WAKE THEM UP. You don't care how friendly you are to the person in your bed; they need to get up.B. Decide you have NO CLUE who is person is! (No CR, castmates who have never met, crosscanon, etc.)
2. PRANK! Oh, this has just got to stop. They need to be punished. But how?
3. CAN'T BEAT 'EM, JOIN 'EM. Push 'em over & snuggle up. You're too tired to deal with this craziness right now. Or sleep on your couch.
4. LET THEM SLEEP. Whatever. It's noon. They're asleep and you've got things to do. Regard them or disregard them.5. SCREAM 'OMGWTFBBQ GET UP!' Really. Default action going on here.C. Decide - fuck the police. You heard. Fuck 'em.
6. PRANK! What a better way for you to remember this moment of meeting than by painting a mustachio on your new 'friend's' face? (Remember, it's your bed. Be wise what you do.)
7. GENTLY AWAKEN THEM. Oh, the poor dears! They must be exhausted, but they can't stay here. Be nice, even if it isn't IC for your character. This is what you get for rolling. Shake them up quietly. Or reroll.
8. GET TO KNOW THEM NON-BIBLICALLY. Well, they're asleep. But they left their wallet, important work, or identification out (no matter how OOC it may be)! Let's see who's REALLY sleeping in your bed. (Use your own judgment on what you find. AS a suggestion, have the most they find is the sleeper's name and maybe place of work.)
9. TIE 'EM UP. FUNCTIONAL typing up. Not kinky, no matter what the other party might think. Let them continue their blissful moment of rest. They'll answer questions later and you'll be safe and sound.10. YOU MOVE FORWARD AND MAKE YOUR OWN FATE.
1. BREAK DOWN. Oh snap. Your car decided to break down out in the middle of nowhere. WHAT DO? Is that Leatherface? Will this be "Children of the Corn"?
2. HITCHHIKERS? Is this even a good idea? Threads may also have a third participant. Go wild.
3. WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST HIT? Dude, I hear deer mess up cars... Or I think that was a deer...
4. DON'T MAKE ME TURN THIS CAR AROUND. Alas. You're the parent or disgruntled friend who has had it up to here with all the fighting in the bakc. This thread may also have a third or even fourth participant, if you can wing it.
5. OMG, I WANT TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THIS LANDMARK! No, no, and no. You tell that person that they're going to be driven around and they're going to like it.
6. THE GREAT ESCAPE. Either dinosaurs or the mothman is chasing you. Don't stop now.
7. MAKE OUT. For whatever reason, the person you're traveling with in the car. You would love to make out with them and then some.
1. SWEET DREAMS. It's been a long day and all you want to do is sleep or just rest your eyes for a bit. Hopefully whoever is close by doesn't mind if you use them as a blanket.
2. STORMY WEATHER. The heavy rain, thunder, and lightning won't be letting up anytime soon. Luckily, it's the perfect weather to stay indoors and snuggle up close and keep warm.
3. SLOW DANCE. It's the end of a party, or maybe it's only the two of you, but the tempo is slow and the lights are low. Let your dance partner take the weight and just sway.
4. SURPRISE ATTACK. Time to invade someone's personal sapce. Are they working too much and need a distraction? Maybe you just wanted to brighten their day. Either way, they won't see it coming.
5. MOVIE NIGHT. It can be on the sofa or in a darkened theater, but you've got your popcorn and someone to settle against during your favorite movie.
6. I LOVE YOU, MAN. It's totally platonic, really. You're just very good friends, no matter what people like to think. But you just love your friend so much you want to hug them, whether they like it or not.
7. JEEPERS CREEPERS. Welp. You were just frightened. Was it a spider in the washroom, a ghost in the attic, a bad dream? Either way, you're looking for someone to cling to right now, and who better than that person right there?
8. HURT AND COMFORT. Whether you're sick in bed, just been dumped, or suffered a traumatic event, you need someone to wrap their arms around you and make everything go away.
9. SUNDAY MORNING. Maybe you just had a wild night. Maybe there's just not enough space at your place and you need to share your bed. Or maybe you just got really tired and someone else happened to be there. Doesn't matter because now the person with you looks way more comfortable than any blanket or pillow. Drape to your heart's content.
10. MOMENT AFTER. You just had incredible, vigorous sex and if you weren't a cuddler before, you are now. You're probably too exhausted to do anything else anyway. Just enjoy the moment.
11. MENAGE A TROIS. Or four, or five. Get a group and cuddle away.
12. PLAYER'S CHOICE. Pick one or make up your own!
1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though.
6. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to make up.
7. RESCUED. You've just been held captive and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
8. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheat on, abuse, whatever the case is, someone else can clearly see you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
9. LOSS. You've experienced a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.
1. FISTFIGHT. Straight-up, unfussy, no-holds-barred facepunching. Clearly you're emotionally invested in this argument. Or maybe you want some stress relief.
2. BAR FIGHT. Someone's had one too many drinks. Curses are being slurred, bottles are being smashed. Just don't be surprised if you get thrown out.
3. VERBAL. A caustic, intellectual battle of wits? Or just immature playground insults? Either way, the fighthing here isn't physical; sticks and stones can break your bones, but we'll see if words can hurt you...
4. WEAPONRY. Fencing practice or a real swordfight? Paintball or battlefield gunfight? The only limits are your imagination (and the extents of human military engineering, of course)!
5. SPARRING. Maybe you're a streetwise punk teaching the new kid on the block the ropes of self-defense. Or perhaps you just want to get some practice in before your karate exam.
6. SEXY. That collar-grabbing led to a kiss, that knee stayed in a place a little too long, those gazes got a little intense... There's heavy breathing here, but it might not be because you've been exerting yourself.
7. DUEL. You insulted the wrong person. Or got caught cheating at cards. A duel, sir, a duel! The gloves are off (and slapping you) and it's pistols at dawn.
8. COMPETITIVE. Boxing, wrestling, martial arts, the possibilities are endless. Just remember: the first rule of Fight Club...
9. OTHER. Combine any of the above, or make up your own!
1. WATER-DWELLING. You've grown gills, or your skin is turning translucent, or you're sprouting fins, or maybe you're outright turning into some form of sea life. It doesn't matter what you're turning into - what does matter is taht you're slowly losing the ability to breathe air, and there's no water in sight.
2. ANIMAL. Something bit you, and you're turning into an animal. Your bones lengthen or perhaps shrink, break, twist, and reform. Your teeth lengthen or shorten. And above all, you feel your instincts being overridden. Your senses sharpen; you notice smells you never did before. Your vision becomes more sensitive to movement. If you're a predator? Man, these people look mighty tasty. Prey? OH GOD. EVERYTHING IS TERRIFYING. Lizard? Enjoy your new inability to regulate body temperature. Bird? Have fun with the whole beak and hollowing bones. And don't get us started on insects and arachnids.
3. PARASITIC. Something's inside you, and it's changing you from within, chewing up your insides and altering your thoughts. You're not sure how much longer you're going to be you, and when the parasite's going to take over completely...
4. DEMONIC. You've been meddling with dark powers beyond the ken of mortal man, and it seems you've accidentally sold your soul. Will you be the traditional kind of demon, horns and hooves, or something far more terrifying and ineffable?
5. UNDEAD. No doubt about it, you're dying. But as you are, something's been altered in you. Maybe you're becoming a vampire - and not the fun kind either; we're talking ugly, ravenous, and mad. Maybe you're a zombie, or a ghoul, and human flesh looks mighty tasty. Or maybe you're just turning into a ghost bent on vengeance. In any case, death is never fun.
6. CYBERNETIC. Get captured by the Borg? Strapped to an operating table? INjected with nanites? Whatever happened to you, you're slowly turning into something half-human, half-machine, and your squishy bits are being replaced by mechnical components.
7. LOVECRAFTIAN. You've heard their song, the terrors from beyond the stars, and even no they sing in your blood as your frlesh transmutes into something ineffable and unknowable. You revel in the pain. You feel even as you seek to spread it, to herald the end of all things... Or maybe worse. You're aware of the transition as your mind becomes not your own.
8. FUSION/HIVEMIND. Youv'e begun to fuse with the first person who tagged you - physically, mentall, or both. Soon, you can't tell who is who, which one of you is the real you, as yur thoughts become one. Join in the fleshsong, mortal.
9. INANIMATE. Your body slowly petrifies and hardens, tuning to stone, wood, glass, or somethign stranger still. Or perhaps you liquefy or maybe you dissolve into the air itself.
10. WILDCARD. Pick whatever you like, combine a few options, or make up your own.
1. CLASS TIME. Pick your class, pick your seat. Whether you're paying attention or goofing off, you're interacting constantly with someone else.
2. BREAK TIME. Those precious minutes that aren't lunch, usually half an hour if you're lucky. Are you hanging out on the grass, rushing to get homework finished, or bunking off school early?
3. LUNCH TIME. Food, glorious food! ... As long as you're not eating the school lunches. What sort of chaos will you get up to in the endless queue that is the lunch line?
4. FOOD FIGHT. The natural reaction to being served school lunches: throwing them as far away from you as possible. You're caught in the middle, or maybe you're instigating it. Who knows? No one can tell.
5. STUDY PERIOD. Yeah. "Studying." They mean catching up on gossip, right? Or watching that crappy TV in the common room? Or maybe you really want to study. I'm not judging.
6. SKIPPING SCHOOL. Did you even get to school before you bunked off somewhere? Or did you just take the bus five stops further and in to town? Hope you don't get caught, either way.
7. EXAM WEEK. You're going into an exam, or just cramming every last bit of knowledge into your head. Either way, good luck! You're going to need it.
8. DETENTION. What did you do? Or were you innocent and wrapped up in your friend's scheme, and now you both have detention? I do not envy you at any rate.
9. SUMMER HOLIDAY. SCHOOL'S OUT FOR SUMMER! Burn your books, burn your uniforms. Everything is over for another 6 weeks (or however long you get off).
10. FACULTY. Oh, hello miss/sir. No, we weren't talking about bunking. Yep, you're the teacher. IMPORTANT NOTE: If you get this option, you or your partner can do a second roll for the scenario.
11. TAKE YOUR PICK. Free for you. Whether you want to pick something from the list, or make up your own scenario, this option allows that. (Of course, you could just bypass the rolling entirely.)
1. LAST ACTION HERO. You tried your best to save the world, but despite the superpowers, the teamwork, and the sacrifice of many good friends, you couldn't quite pull it off. Now you're left with your guilt and a universe where half the people left are depending on you to help them, while the rest are trying to hunt you down for your failures. Good luck with that, hero.
2. SCIENCE SAVIOR. They said it was impossible, they said it was futile, but you know that if you just got a little bit of support you could fix all of the world's troubles. Maybe your experiments are a bit on the unethical side, but the survival of humanity is depending on you! You can't let the world down. Time to grab those test-tubes and get yourself a lab assistant that doesn't mind getting their hands dirty.
3. THE LAST PERSON ON EARTH. Well, it's finally happened. A virus or disease or genetic mutation has all but wiped out members of the opposite sex and humanity is doomed. But what's this? A lone survivor? As the saviour of the species, they'll be glad to lend a hand (or reproductive organ) to help restore the population, right? Maybe a little bit of persuasion is in order.
4. SO LONELY. You haven't talked to another person in days and you're starved for conversation. So when you finally meet another lone traveler it makes total sense to stick together, right? Maybe share some food, some companionship, some ammo. . . . Better hope you both get along.
5. MUTATION STATION. The bomb dropped and some people weren't fortunate enough to go in the blast. Now those left behind have to deal with nuclear winter, a dwindling food supply, and some strange additions to the human gene code. Maybe these superhumans are friendly and misunderstood. Then again, maybe they just want to eat your brains.
6. LAST DANCE. The world is ending. You know it, everyone knows it, so the only thing left to do is party like it's 1999. Complete your bucket list, do the things you never got the chance to do before, and maybe screw up the courage to do the things you were too scared to even think about doing. Oh, and watch out for looters.
7. FREEBIE SCENARIO. Anything you can think of that isn't already mentioned can go here.
1. EROTOMANIA. That person loves you. They belong to you. They might deny it and be with someone else but they're ridiculous. You know better here.
2. DISTRUST. Simple as it sounds, you're being lied to. You can't prove it but you're not falling for their tricks anymore.
3. HALLUCINATIONS. A vague classic. Those sounds, those sights, your senses are screwed up and the world is upside down. There's plenty of senses to screw.
4. TAINTED. You're completely wrong. Is it in your family's blood? Is it parasites? A disease? Aliens? A sin? But it's consuming you, whatever it is.
5. CONSPIRACY. Why are they after you? Who knows. Maybe you know. But everyone is in on it and you're the only one left fighting against it.
6. CONTROL. Your actions aren't your own, even if others insist they are. Somehow, either drugs or magic or something, someone is making you their puppet.
7. FIXATION. Either it's in you or someone else or a thing but this imperfection is clawing at your mind. Just fix it. Fix it and you can rest.
8. FOLIE A DEUX. The more either you or the other person talks, the more you feed into this unease and the more real it sounds. What can you two alone do?
9. REPLACEMENTS. Is it just this person or is everyone being replaced with a fake? You're not a fake, though. You won't let them replace you.
10. REAL. Is any of this real? Maybe you're dreaming or drugged. Maybe you're dead. But you need to prove that this is really happening, whatever it takes.
The character tagging in can be the cause, the subject, or the witness of a more or less (in)appropriate display of feelings.
I. WOEFULLY
1. Take over the world.
2. Eat chocolate cake.
3. Train with them.
4. Attend a party thrown for them, or for you.
5. Get crowned / promoted / awarded a high honour by, or beside them.
6. Receive a dazzling gift from them.
II. ANGRILY
1. Carry out a domestic task with their help.
2. Make them a sandwich.
3. Direct them in traffic.
4. Propose, or commit to them.
5. Deliver their mail / missive / gift.
6. Give them a massage.
III. BLISSFULLY
1. Break their heart.
2. Read out a defamatory article about them, or a vicious critical review of their work.
3. Trigger a curse/mechanism that condemns you both to some terrible chore or fate.
4. Destroy all that is dear to them.
5. Share your germs. All of them.
6. Sign you both up for a nigh-suicide mission.
IV. SENSUALLY
1. Mop the(ir?) floor.
2. Carry out a mundane phone conversation.
3. Vandalize public property.
4. Take down your enemies.
5. Play chess.
6. Confess to them, or give a report of your activity.
V. POLITELY
1. Take them hostage.
2. Knock them out.
3. Pickpocket them.
4. Confront them about something you learned by listening in on their private conversations, reading their (e-)mail, or having their house under surveillance.
5. Betray them.
6. Try to kill them, or have them killed.
1. LOST. Oh shit, how did you even get here.
2. ON THE RUN. Getting away from someone or something that's after you.
3. TREASURE HUNTING. Something you desire is here. Maybe it's being guarded or you're competing for it.
4. TRAVELLING. You turned up here on purpose. Why is up to you.
5. ESCAPE. Things have gone wrong and you need to get out of this place.
6. DISASTER. Something awful has happened whether you're the cause, a witness or there to help.
7. INVASION. It's a siege! Are you defending or attacking?
8. HOME. It's actually where you live.
9. DUEL. The predetermined location to end a feud.
10. WHATEVER. Just make something up, whatever.
1. BED. Waking up after a wild night or just getting ready for bed?
2. OFFICE. Getting a leg up at work? Caught in a moment of indiscretion?
3. YARD. Someone's been communing with nature...
4. CAR. The warmth of a heater during snowfall... or the aircon during a melting summer.
5. BEACH. Oh look, there's a floating swimsuit... and there's its owner.
6. RIVER. God, can't even fish without hooking the wrong species.
7. BATTLEFIELD. Oops, someone looted the wrong corpse... who isn't actually a corpse.
8. SCHOOL. All right, who's been raiding the locker room?
9. BATHROOM. . . . Oh, hey, who needs a shower, right?
10. PARK. Sun and grass and lots of people to . . . watch . . . oh my.
11. . . . CLOTHES?? Okay, technically they are clothed, but it's not their clothes dammit.
12. OTHER. Because there are way, way too many more places than I can think of.
1. PHYSICAL INTIMACY. It might just be innocent touches or it might be during sex.
2. LONG CONVERSATIONS. Honest words can be more intimate than touch.
3. DRUNK. You're oversharing or simply maudlin.
4. FORCED INTIMACY. Magic. A truth serum, whatever - you didn't mean to bare your soul, but that is precisely what you're doing right now.
5. SLOW-DANCING. There is something inherently intimate about trusting someone else to lead you, and someone trust you to lead them.
6. OTHER. Intimacy can come in many forms. Pick your poison.
1. BOUNTY HUNTERS. You're wanted. And someone is chasing you. Maybe it isn't your fault? But maybe you did rob that bank. Either way, there's someone after that price on your head. Confront them, or run? Specify hunter or hunted.
2. TRUTH. You can't tell a lie. Maybe both of you can't, or only one of you, but now is the time to ask those embarrassing questions.
3. OBEDIENCE. The person posting is compelled to obey, no matter what. (Un)Fortunately the person commenting is compelled to give orders. All orders given must be obeyed.
4. LOTUS EATERS. The person posting is trapped in their own dream of personal paradise. The person commenting is trapped with them. Help free them, or fall into paradise?
5. PLANTS OF DEATH. Plants are trying to kill you. (Something's . . . happening.)
6. INSOMNIA. One or both of you can't sleep, and that sucks. Be awake together.
7. DREAMWALKING. One of you is trapped in the other's dream - or nightmare.
8. SOULMATES. You are meant to be, whether the relationship is functional or . . . less so.
9. PICTURE/QUOTE PROMPT. Throw a bunch of pictures and/or quotes around and see what happens, freeform style! Try RP Visualocities or A Sea Of Quotes.
10. OTHER-WORLDLY. Go to the Other-Wordly blog and hit 'Random' until you get a word. Use the word as a prompt to write up an RP scenario. Do this several times if you like. Mix & match.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-07 10:40 pm (UTC)He cuts himself off there, curses, because fuck this. Fuck Roman and fuck Letha. In the figurative, not the literal sense. She'd put his hands on her tits, and it had been like staring down the barrel of a shotgun knowing you're taking both rounds in the fucking face, whether you want to or not. He shakes his head,
"You're the same, you know. Fucking Godfreys. You think whatever you want belongs to you because of your fucking name."
He'd said no, even if he wasn't exactly up to telling Roman why he;d said no, what it was that kept him from wanting in her. Peter was a virgin and under different circumstance would about as thrilled at the idea of sex with anyone as the next boy. But he wanted Roman. Which infuriated him and made him shake and ached inside of him. He wasn't into dudes, at least, he didn't think he was. Not really.
Fucking around was one thing. Clumsy touches, drunk and laughing and making fun of the whole fucking world. It wasn't like he was about to get on his knees and say please, I want you to fuck me. Or was he? Roman was about as easy to figure out as a knife in the dark. He flicked his thumb at the metal container and raised an eyebrow.
"You gonna be a dick or you gonna share?"
Pills weren't his thing. Roman wasn't his thing, either. Fuck it all, it was just that kind of fucking night.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-07 11:31 pm (UTC)He wonders how it would work, if it would work. And how easy it would be to conquer him, like it is for everyone. Funny, the masochist with this sadistic, animalistic side to him that could do what it wanted when it wanted - that could make anyone do what he wanted when he wanted. One look in Peter's eyes and that's it. Fuck me, fuck you, it would be simple, but it wouldn't feel like a victory.
He doesn't want to win Peter like a prize. He doesn't want him on his shelf like just another one of his trophies. He just wants him.
In his mind, his hand seeks out Peter's thigh and rubs there, he takes what he wants and he does get what he wants - he is a fucking Godfrey, and he may not deserve it but he sure as hell receives it anyway. Instead his hands are still on the steering wheel, white-knuckled and neurotic just like the rest of him. "Do what you want," he says carelessly, and thinks of things like the razor blades inside, how pretty Peter's skin could slit open underneath his hands, his nails. How easily Peter could claw him alive if he so wanted. He's got half a stiff in his pants already. It's annoying.
A cigarette's propped in his lips and he lights it easily, letting everything else fall by the wayside until now as he blows his smoke out the opened roof and lets his head fall back against the rest. The pecker wants what it wants. "If you had to fuck a melon, would you do it?" he asks conversationally, but when he does, he's looking at Peter, harshly, like it's meaningful. It's these questions sometimes, they just pop out of him like he needs to know right now. "Take a Klonopin. Maybe your fangs might shrink back into your skull. I'm not the one who touched her tits, you don't get to be mad."
no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 08:20 pm (UTC)"I'm not mad."
Which is a lie, but he's not mad at Roman, not really, not realistically. He curses, huffs under his breath with a shake of his head after he downs the pill and the scotch, handing the silver flask back.
"That's not how it happened. Fuck. I told her I wasn't going to fuck her but she didn't care." He neglects to mention that he's used Roman's name, that if Letha is brighter than she seems most of the time, she might actually know. "Godfreys are the fucking same; can't understand that you don't own people."
He tilts his head back, letting the pill he took settle, waiting for it to settle in, calm this... whatever it was. And then he gets this dumbshit idea in his head and he's acting on it before he can stop himself. It's the razorblades. It's how they smell like copper and not just the metal they're made from, how he thinks it's more than just the cocaine.
He tells himself he's not flirting, he's just curious. He just wants to know how fucked Roman is, how far down the fucking rabbit hole Peter's letting the Godfrey heir drag him.
He steals one, carefully held between those eerie matching fingertips of his middle and ring fingers. He rotates it side to side, letting it catch the starlight, letting the blade gleam. And then he licks it. A brief motion, just letting pink muscle lap carefully against steel, but he tastes more than just that. He tastes copper and iron and blood and his blues are still looking into greens and he almost wants to say this is Roman and his fucking roofie eyes, but he knows better.
"Sick fuck. Always figured you'd be into cutting other people."
He holds it in his fingers like it might bite.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 08:37 pm (UTC)There's a smirk at Roman's lips, not necessarily coy but entirely wry. He thinks he only likes cutting other people? It's not about the sadism. It's a little about the sadism. It's mostly about the blood.
He props a cigarette into his mouth and lights it without any answer to Peter's questions, his accusations. He doesn't care. Letha goes for what she wants just as Godfreys do, but Roman takes what he wants just as Roman does, and that means him shrugging off his expensive jacket and tossing it carelessly into the back of his car. On his forearm is a bandage wrapped right, blood spattering in small dots where it soaked through the gauze.
It's an admission as much as it is showing off. Cutting other people? Just other people?
Without warning, he reaches out and cranks Peter's seat back into a reclining position, because he knows what he wants right now and Klonopin isn't the only thing at the moment, much as it's starting to soak into his system, that tired kind of warm fuzzy. Lowers the whispers he gets sometimes, clawing inside his head for something more. Lowers his inhibitions, however few he may have, and in one smooth movement he's up and over Peter's legs, straddling his lap and plucking the razor blade out of Peter's fingers.
That's not yours, Peter. That belongs to someone. And in a moment it's pressed to Peter's throat, not cutting in, just sitting there, a reminder, a tease. His expression sifts into something curious, intimidating, almost. Dangerous. But he won't hurt Peter, not without his permission. He wonders if wolf blood tastes different than everyone else's.
"Jealous?" is the only word he has to say, using his height advantage and looming over the other boy. His free hand comes to plant at the headrest just beside Peter's head, and every ounce of energy not to just tangle his long fingers into that hair and tug.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 08:58 pm (UTC)And then Roman cranks his seat to reclining and it catches him off-guard. It catches him flat on his back and no time to move before Roman is up and ontop of him, straddling his body and he steals the razor from his fingers. He gasps sharply when Roman presses it to his throat, and the wolf tilts his head back -- just a little. Peter isn't even sure if it's another game of chicken, a stupid, fucked-up dare, or if he actually trusts him.
The more pressing issue is how Roman's body presses down on him, how his slender, bony frame is surprisingly solid, surprisingly strong like this. He huffs a laugh at the question, swallowing against his throat and it makes his adam's apple bob. His heart is racing in his ears, though he still almost manages that look of not quite interested. One hand comes up, a touch at his hip. His tongue licks at his lips, his mouth feeling suddenly dry as he stares up at him.
"Maybe."
It's off his lips with a smirk, and it's his fucking funeral.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 09:10 pm (UTC)Roman's smirk turns into a frown like it always does, that bit of a pout to his lips like he thinks Peter doesn't believe him, like he won't do it. The razor blade slides its way all across his throat, dangerously close to cutting in - it bites at his skin, smooth-like, but it doesn't dig in, not yet. It would be so easy to slit his throat here and right here where Peter's at his full mercy. It's not even that he needs to, wants to, but he could.
"You think I won't?" Roman shoots back at him, irritated like he seems to be by everything, but Peter's hand's at his hip and Roman's pelvis bucks into his own, making that friction, trousers against jeans, before he does nick into Peter's neck with the blade, just enough. "Looks like you cut yourself shaving," he adds lightly, and at once his fingers are at Peter's throat, He doesn't taste it, doesn't move towards it yet, just traces his fingers around the blood that's beading up already, draws a perfect circle in the spot and wets his lips at the look of it, the slick feeling of that warm and the smell of copper in the air.
It's enough to make his head duck against Peter's, their foreheads pressed, his hips undulating again, because he is a fucking Godfrey, he will get what he wants. He has before and he's not about to stop now, not with the sight of Letha and fucking hands on her tits. His hair's still wet, slicked back from the rain. He doesn't care.
"You're like an art project," he observes, almost lazily, and there's an intimacy to it when they're close like this, when Roman's other hand comes to rest at the other side of Peter's head, bloodied and shaking in the slightest - a consequence of holding himself back. "I could paint you." All his weird, roundabout compliments, for Peter, mostly for Peter. Like he's on some pedestal rather than down in the dirt with everyone else.
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Date: 2013-11-12 11:04 pm (UTC)He doesn't answer that question because it seems so obvious: yes, of course he thinks that he'll cut him. There's a sharp inhale as Roman's hips jerk against his fingers, and he's distantly aware that he should stop this. But with Roman looming over him and the razor at his throat it's objectively already too late; you can't turn back the fucking clock when shit gets inconvenient, even if Peter wished otherwise.
He gasps, his breath sharp and flushed as it finally cuts in, and he can feel the blood welling up on his skin. He murmurs at Roman's remark, at how his thin fingers swipe at the blood on his neck. He traces a circle, wet and red, and it's hot in a way that's better than temperature. He shivers when Roman's forehead touches to his and he's looking up into those green eyes with a flutter of lashes.
This time when Roman rolls his hips, Peter's arching up against him, because just-- fuck. He doesn't know what he's doing. He knows what he wants, but he doesn't want to, he lives in that space that's a mirror to Roman's own -- he can't have what he craves. He's not into dudes anyway, not really, there's just something about Roman that makes him crave him, dream about him, touch himself and think of those stupid long fucking fingers.
"Yeah? You gonna? Pervert."
As if they're different. As if they're anywhere near as different as Peter tries to think. His other hand curls in Roman's wet hair and he curses as his hips jerk into the Godfrey's, and fuck, fuck this. Because he's hard and the lies of it all are slipping away and the longer he stares into those green eyes, the more he's sure as shit than Roman wouldn't let him run from this.
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Date: 2013-11-12 11:59 pm (UTC)The reaction he gets out of him is intoxicating. Fucking dirty gypsies. It's the girls and Fight Club shit all over again, isn't it? Grungy's the new clean-shaven. Peter's not someone - or he's the perfect someone - to take home to mommy dearest and if that's not endearing, he has a list of other reasons why. People just aren't like him at school, in this dull society that surrounds him. And that's why he likes Peter, he guesses. Because he's different.
He's artwork.
So it's nice to have him beneath him like this, that position of power over something so simultaneously powerful. He's seen Peter's transformation, he knows how effective he is and how ruthless he could have the potential to be. Wolves. Teeth and claws.
It makes Roman want to dig his fingernails into Peter's chest and just drag.
He spits out the cigarette then, off to the side before he kisses him, just once before he moves to his neck. His tongue laps off the blood before he sucks at the cut. Pervert, he wants to call him. Roman can show him just how much of an ugly thing there is inside of him, if that's what he wants.
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Date: 2013-11-13 12:38 am (UTC)There's a part of him that wants to bite him tongue, and he's not sure if it's for the things that he says or just to feel it. Their mouths collide and it's hot, and it's electric and there's murmured pleasure that he breathes into the kiss. His hands tighten, just a little harder, maybe too hard as if that changes this, makes any better how much he wants Roman fucking Godfrey. This is all fucked.
His nails curling into fabric, into his hair and he bares his neck as the upir laps at the blood on his throat, sucking. His body trembles and there's a low whine in his throat. It feels good. Hot, wet suction where the blood is still warm on his throat.
That cigarette is fucking gonna light them on fire.
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Date: 2013-11-13 01:02 am (UTC)Why did it have to be Letha? It could have been anybody but Letha.
He doesn't even know if there's an 'it' in the first place, they just fall into patterns, and he likes patterns; patterns are comfortable, familiar. They bicker, they fuck, they share cigarettes - the one he dropped wasn't lit, he's not too worried - and then it starts over again, with this occasional friendship shit in between. Like fuck he knows how to take it. He doesn't really fuck people more than once too often. He guesses that makes him special, Peter.
Whatever.
Roman sits back on his haunches, undoing the fastenings of Peter's jeans and ordering him with a flicker of his eyes upward. "Budge up," he says, but he doesn't mean it mean it, there's no nosebleed to follow and there's no dagger edge in his eyes like he gets when he's using his ability. It's just enough to get Peter's jeans down and over his hips, his boxers with it, erection out and in the open air.
'Why?' he can almost hear Peter asking, and maybe he hears it in his head but he's not sure if Peter actually says it.
"Because I want to do this," he continues the conversation anyway, and slides almost inelegantly back to take Peter's dick in hand, ducking enough so that, blood still on his lips, he can take him into his mouth, Spine arching so much that his vertebrae stick out through the back of his shirt like ridges.
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Date: 2013-11-13 07:20 am (UTC)The question it in his eyes, it's on the tip of his tongue, but it doesn't quite make it outloud. Somehow, victim of that fucked up connection that they share, no doubt, Roman seems to hear it anyway. Because he wants to -- it's an answer that is so fucking Roman that Peter can't do anything except smile. It doesn't last long, though. Not when Roman takes the gypsy's cock in his fingers, and then he bends, taking it into his bloodied mouth.
"Oh, shit, Roman--"
Peter curses, and he'd meant to keep his name off his lips. It was easier that way. Easier to pretend that this was easy, simple, meaningless. Pretend that Roman didn't get to him (but he did). His body arches and his hands go up over his head, clinging to the headrest for something to hold onto. His blue eyes focus on the lines of his body; his shoulders, his cheekbones, the ridges of his spine. There's a distant desire to trace every line with his tongue. Touch and feel and map him out, memorize him.
One small piece of Roman he can keep for himself. He'll never admit to the urge.
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Date: 2013-11-16 09:52 am (UTC)But here he is for the -- however many times they've done this, and they have done this, wordless, like they're testing limits, like they don't need to discuss the matter. Bound at the seams, whether it's dreams or it's Peter's cock in his mouth.
His eyes flicker back down to pay attention to what he's doing, a less haughty look when he's just concentrating on taking what he can into his mouth, fisting at what he can't - unpracticed, but no teeth, and there's something to be said about a face like his with his cheeks hollowed out, sucking at Peter with his lips full and wide against him as he goes. Touch and feel and map him out, memorize him. Even if it's just his pecker.
Yeah. They're one in the same in a lot of areas of their lives.
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Date: 2013-11-17 08:08 am (UTC)He's always pulling away, but he doesn't actually want to lose him; fucking contradictory. Peter's still just a dumb fucking teenager no matter how old his eyes sometimes look. He wants him, wants this, and maybe he wants more. Roman makes him wants things that he fears, and that makes him hate the other boy, just a little, just enough.
Peter's just a little louder than usual. Moans pulled from deep in his chest, like they're things he doesn't quite want to give away, but he can't help himself. Roman is fucking gorgeous like this, which isn't something he ever really thought he'd think about another guy, but Roman is different. He never quite planned on falling into this either, whatever the fuck it was between them. Gravitational, magnetic.
Peter curses, jerking his head back sharp so it slams against the headrest. Normally, he can ignore it, just take the pleasure, but right now it feels like he's losing it, like he's coming apart under every touch of his fingers and every bob of his mouth. He can't keep Roman's name off his lips, and it isn't casual or easy, and maybe that's honestly why he'd tried to shove him away. Self-righteous intentions about protecting him aside.
Maybe he was just terrified that Roman would see, that this would happen and he'd see. He'd notice just how fucked Peter was on him.