01-30-2010, 04:35 AM
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1504
Lets talk about seeeex. SEEEEEEX. QUALITY DIVE AT THE END WHEN I STARTED FALLING ASLEEP AND ALTA WAS BEING DIRTY.
One could say that Strelein was in the same boat as the blond wolf, but it was probably a boat on the same pond. Or near it, perhaps on the river flowing out of the pond into a lake infested with piranhas. Metaphors aside, Strel knew about sex. He had it, though it was probably a different circumstance compared to what Daisuke had gone through, whatever it had been. His was rape, just as the blond's was, though in the end it somehow became a very twisted form of conceptual 'relations'. And how could it not have been? It was very nice. Leroy was quite a beast, it turns out. All those ripply, carpenter muscles were not just for show, it seemed. Now, the redhead could daydream about that man all the live long day, but it did not remove the fact that the Chamberlain had proceeded to rape him when drunk one night when the chevalier, then seigneur, walked in on him to get out of the rain in an abandoned, seemingly abandoned, house in Halifax. All he wanted was a place to stay the night in safety, out of the rain and thunder and lightening. What he found was pain, pleasure, and then more pain in the morning. How unfortunate was that? Leroy, taking into account that Strelein did in fact have a penis and thus was a male, had chosen to do it more roughly than he probably would have done a woman. Maybe. It probably would have been rape no matter and it would have been rough no matter the redhead's gender. So why did he enjoy that little tidbit?
How all of this had escalated, the redheaded man did not know, nor did he care, since it put him in the uncomfortable position of questioning his relationship choices and what defined the ones he preferred. Leroy - how had he put it? - said that he should do it again sometime, as though it revolved around his schedule, not Strel's. It took two to tango, but only one to get off on one's own. Why did so many men get away with being such assholes? Strel was male, oh yes he definitely was, but he still managed to have a different set of morals than other men. Yet it felt like they were shrinking, changing, to something that was not the same with the boy that came from a pack in Michigan several months ago. It was all very confusing. Not terribly unpleasant, but it was not a fun argument to having running through one's head at night. Sleep came hard when a debate was raging in one's mind, arguing for one side, then the other, and then back again with fluid frequency. It was not often that there was such a topic on the chevalier's mind, but when it did appear, tiredness was going to follow right behind for a long time. It took him a week to get his sleeping pattern back to normal if he wanted to start waking up before the sun went past high noon.
Needless to say, Strel was not about to throw away having sex completely and forever. Oh hell no. That was probably the farthest thing on his mind, right next to boobs and penguins. As unwilling, at first, as the chevalier had been with Leroy, he somehow managed to get into his role in the middle of and actually enjoyed it at the end. That was why it was hard to call what that black and white dog did rape. It was enjoyable! Rape was not enjoyable! It was to be disliked, hated, loathed, abhorred, and a whole slew of other words that mean relatively the exact same thing! No wonder so much sleep had been lost those nights following an accidental evening of 'lovemaking'. The philosophies of this all was simply too much to handle in a single evening's long contemplation. It absolutely did not help that the redhead could not confront Leroy anywhere public, for sake of the other's 'reputation'. Reputation indeed, hah! The man had two children, probably from a fling with the mother. And who could blame her? Leroy was one studly muffin, as much as Strelein really did not want to admit. Ever. In public. To anyone.
The force with which the blond said those words made the redhead shrink back a bit to eye the other warily. So forceful! Smirking, the Cour des Miracles two year old, rolled his eyes visibly at the blond. "Fine. Do what you want. I won't stop you. Except, maybe, one day lead you off a cliff...er.....into a ditch," he changed his words rather fast, giving a look that reeked of effort, trying to give his best innocent gaze and smile. Just a flutter of an eyelash here and a slightly deeper smile at this moment and it was easy. Screw sewing, this redhead should have been an actor in Toronto. And he could have! He could have been that or more! Or less actually. The amount of drugs he had been offered in that city was alarming. The only good that had really come from that city was the henna and dying techniques the hair savvy Luperci had given and taught to him for his free use. "Don't complain to me after I warned you," added the redhead in a sing-song voice, letting his tenor tones drag out the 'you' into something a bit more longer and far more melodic than needed.
Daisuke seemed genuinely unperturbed the fact he just came out to him, openly, about being gay. Well that was a point to the blond then. How did the redhead know he was this way? Well, when he was younger, not that much younger mind, Strelein had stayed in Toronto for a few weeks, as was aforementioned. There, at something that was a Luperci equivalent of a night club, Strel managed to catch a whiff of something that knocked him out for a little while. When he woke up, head aching and a bit stiff in some joints, the redhead found himself on a couch surrounded by men and women. Some band was playing nearby. Then things got rough and Strelein blanked out for a while. Next thing he remembered was making out with some guy who was jamming his tongue down his throat, and somehow so was the Michigan born and bred boy. Then came another episode of no memory, followed by a moment of waking up to attempting to kiss a girl - or was she coming onto him? - and then simply getting disgusted by the thought of it and moving back to the other side of the couch. The other things that Strel remembered from that night was something about him getting very, very close to getting himself fucked by the guy, who happened to be mildly attractive, he had been sucking face with earlier. But he had come to his senses, somehow, and walked away just fine. In the next few days, he was gone from Toronto and on his way to Montreal.
The Cour des Miracles male snorted at the blond, waving a hand dismissively at him. "I was half-kidding," he said, giving a laugh he only half meant. "I can set myself up with guys myself. Probably." He wined at how weak that had sounded, even to him. That was the wrong attitude to have! Pinching himself, hopefully discretely, the chevalier tried to snap himself out this stupor he was in. Snickering slightly at the blond, he tilted his head once more, as was becoming a habit between them. Then, giving a shrug, he leaned back against the cool of the cave wall. This place must have been a great find, considering its size. Though maybe more Luperci and wolves preferred the shelter of the city nowadays, considering all the things available for scavenging. There was no reason to fault Daisuke on not knowing any elageble men. Not his fault at all. Besides, Strel had just been joking, in all honesty. "I'll just content myself with my sewing, like some old maid. And make pretty things."
The chevalier gave a rather unmanly giggle, mocking his own words. Sighing, the man eyed Daisuke with lavender-hued orbs. "You've been here a while, right? Found anyone...uh..interesting?"
He waggled his eyebrows a bit, smiling a sly grin in the meanwhile.
It was hard to doubt that the blond had managed to avoid getting even so much as a crush while he was here. How social was Daisuke, honestly? Surely he knew enough people to feel the oh so bittersweet pangs of loving affection for someone. Strelein did not mean to pry, nor was he really expecting an honest answer. After all, they had met only that day and had enjoyed a brief romp in the snow. Daisuke was not obligated to give sing truthful response. But perhaps he would, were he so inclined to humor the Cour des Miracles chevalier.
Lets talk about seeeex. SEEEEEEX. QUALITY DIVE AT THE END WHEN I STARTED FALLING ASLEEP AND ALTA WAS BEING DIRTY.
One could say that Strelein was in the same boat as the blond wolf, but it was probably a boat on the same pond. Or near it, perhaps on the river flowing out of the pond into a lake infested with piranhas. Metaphors aside, Strel knew about sex. He had it, though it was probably a different circumstance compared to what Daisuke had gone through, whatever it had been. His was rape, just as the blond's was, though in the end it somehow became a very twisted form of conceptual 'relations'. And how could it not have been? It was very nice. Leroy was quite a beast, it turns out. All those ripply, carpenter muscles were not just for show, it seemed. Now, the redhead could daydream about that man all the live long day, but it did not remove the fact that the Chamberlain had proceeded to rape him when drunk one night when the chevalier, then seigneur, walked in on him to get out of the rain in an abandoned, seemingly abandoned, house in Halifax. All he wanted was a place to stay the night in safety, out of the rain and thunder and lightening. What he found was pain, pleasure, and then more pain in the morning. How unfortunate was that? Leroy, taking into account that Strelein did in fact have a penis and thus was a male, had chosen to do it more roughly than he probably would have done a woman. Maybe. It probably would have been rape no matter and it would have been rough no matter the redhead's gender. So why did he enjoy that little tidbit?
How all of this had escalated, the redheaded man did not know, nor did he care, since it put him in the uncomfortable position of questioning his relationship choices and what defined the ones he preferred. Leroy - how had he put it? - said that he should do it again sometime, as though it revolved around his schedule, not Strel's. It took two to tango, but only one to get off on one's own. Why did so many men get away with being such assholes? Strel was male, oh yes he definitely was, but he still managed to have a different set of morals than other men. Yet it felt like they were shrinking, changing, to something that was not the same with the boy that came from a pack in Michigan several months ago. It was all very confusing. Not terribly unpleasant, but it was not a fun argument to having running through one's head at night. Sleep came hard when a debate was raging in one's mind, arguing for one side, then the other, and then back again with fluid frequency. It was not often that there was such a topic on the chevalier's mind, but when it did appear, tiredness was going to follow right behind for a long time. It took him a week to get his sleeping pattern back to normal if he wanted to start waking up before the sun went past high noon.
Needless to say, Strel was not about to throw away having sex completely and forever. Oh hell no. That was probably the farthest thing on his mind, right next to boobs and penguins. As unwilling, at first, as the chevalier had been with Leroy, he somehow managed to get into his role in the middle of and actually enjoyed it at the end. That was why it was hard to call what that black and white dog did rape. It was enjoyable! Rape was not enjoyable! It was to be disliked, hated, loathed, abhorred, and a whole slew of other words that mean relatively the exact same thing! No wonder so much sleep had been lost those nights following an accidental evening of 'lovemaking'. The philosophies of this all was simply too much to handle in a single evening's long contemplation. It absolutely did not help that the redhead could not confront Leroy anywhere public, for sake of the other's 'reputation'. Reputation indeed, hah! The man had two children, probably from a fling with the mother. And who could blame her? Leroy was one studly muffin, as much as Strelein really did not want to admit. Ever. In public. To anyone.
The force with which the blond said those words made the redhead shrink back a bit to eye the other warily. So forceful! Smirking, the Cour des Miracles two year old, rolled his eyes visibly at the blond. "Fine. Do what you want. I won't stop you. Except, maybe, one day lead you off a cliff...er.....into a ditch," he changed his words rather fast, giving a look that reeked of effort, trying to give his best innocent gaze and smile. Just a flutter of an eyelash here and a slightly deeper smile at this moment and it was easy. Screw sewing, this redhead should have been an actor in Toronto. And he could have! He could have been that or more! Or less actually. The amount of drugs he had been offered in that city was alarming. The only good that had really come from that city was the henna and dying techniques the hair savvy Luperci had given and taught to him for his free use. "Don't complain to me after I warned you," added the redhead in a sing-song voice, letting his tenor tones drag out the 'you' into something a bit more longer and far more melodic than needed.
Daisuke seemed genuinely unperturbed the fact he just came out to him, openly, about being gay. Well that was a point to the blond then. How did the redhead know he was this way? Well, when he was younger, not that much younger mind, Strelein had stayed in Toronto for a few weeks, as was aforementioned. There, at something that was a Luperci equivalent of a night club, Strel managed to catch a whiff of something that knocked him out for a little while. When he woke up, head aching and a bit stiff in some joints, the redhead found himself on a couch surrounded by men and women. Some band was playing nearby. Then things got rough and Strelein blanked out for a while. Next thing he remembered was making out with some guy who was jamming his tongue down his throat, and somehow so was the Michigan born and bred boy. Then came another episode of no memory, followed by a moment of waking up to attempting to kiss a girl - or was she coming onto him? - and then simply getting disgusted by the thought of it and moving back to the other side of the couch. The other things that Strel remembered from that night was something about him getting very, very close to getting himself fucked by the guy, who happened to be mildly attractive, he had been sucking face with earlier. But he had come to his senses, somehow, and walked away just fine. In the next few days, he was gone from Toronto and on his way to Montreal.
The Cour des Miracles male snorted at the blond, waving a hand dismissively at him. "I was half-kidding," he said, giving a laugh he only half meant. "I can set myself up with guys myself. Probably." He wined at how weak that had sounded, even to him. That was the wrong attitude to have! Pinching himself, hopefully discretely, the chevalier tried to snap himself out this stupor he was in. Snickering slightly at the blond, he tilted his head once more, as was becoming a habit between them. Then, giving a shrug, he leaned back against the cool of the cave wall. This place must have been a great find, considering its size. Though maybe more Luperci and wolves preferred the shelter of the city nowadays, considering all the things available for scavenging. There was no reason to fault Daisuke on not knowing any elageble men. Not his fault at all. Besides, Strel had just been joking, in all honesty. "I'll just content myself with my sewing, like some old maid. And make pretty things."
The chevalier gave a rather unmanly giggle, mocking his own words. Sighing, the man eyed Daisuke with lavender-hued orbs. "You've been here a while, right? Found anyone...uh..interesting?"
He waggled his eyebrows a bit, smiling a sly grin in the meanwhile.
It was hard to doubt that the blond had managed to avoid getting even so much as a crush while he was here. How social was Daisuke, honestly? Surely he knew enough people to feel the oh so bittersweet pangs of loving affection for someone. Strelein did not mean to pry, nor was he really expecting an honest answer. After all, they had met only that day and had enjoyed a brief romp in the snow. Daisuke was not obligated to give sing truthful response. But perhaps he would, were he so inclined to humor the Cour des Miracles chevalier.