![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Beyond the barriers that seemingly keep us here, but I imagine the same holds true for you?
[ and he has tried, only to earn a bleeding from the ears for his effort. ]
None of the other minds intrigue me so well, though.
[ and he has tried, only to earn a bleeding from the ears for his effort. ]
None of the other minds intrigue me so well, though.
Of course. But my range isn't the size of this house. I have to piggy back off other telepaths if I want to reach past floors.
The way to a girl's heart is through her brain, Monsieur Lestat. I like flattery.
The way to a girl's heart is through her brain, Monsieur Lestat. I like flattery.
You can channel someone else’s power to use as your own? Does it require sharing the same space as them?
Well, I don’t believe in empty flattery. Women so often see through it, regardless. The truth is a much better weapon when wielded.
Well, I don’t believe in empty flattery. Women so often see through it, regardless. The truth is a much better weapon when wielded.
They just have to be in my range. You’re doing all the heavy lifting in this telepathic connection — I’m just on the ride.
Are you saying you can’t compliment me and be truthful?
Are you saying you can’t compliment me and be truthful?
Edited 2024-09-10 13:23 (UTC)
Fortunate, then, that you picked up when I called.
I’m saying when I compliment you, you’ll know it’s the truth. For instance, I very much enjoy having your pretty voice in my head.
I’m saying when I compliment you, you’ll know it’s the truth. For instance, I very much enjoy having your pretty voice in my head.
I don’t make a habit of brushing off interesting men.
It’s the French accent, isn’t it?
It’s the French accent, isn’t it?
I’d say it’s a nice reminder of home, but my feelings toward France are more complicated as of late.
Though you’re more than welcome to speak in any tongue you like.
Though you’re more than welcome to speak in any tongue you like.
Complicated in a butter and carbs diet way?
Hm. ( considering that for a bit, thoughts turned over like the spin cycle on a washing machine. ) Do you know other languages?
Hm. ( considering that for a bit, thoughts turned over like the spin cycle on a washing machine. ) Do you know other languages?
Complicated in that it's been many years since I found myself with cause to return.
Passable in Italian. [ he has his mother to thank for that, but now seems like the wrong time to mention gabrielle. ]
Passable in Italian. [ he has his mother to thank for that, but now seems like the wrong time to mention gabrielle. ]
( men and their cocks. parisa knows it's a bit of prideful concession, an admittance that cuts a little deeper than skin, but the words give her goosebumps like a whisper trailing up her spine — someone cutting themselves down to size because she told them to is like bathing in the sun, like burning a candle in her cunt making everything warm and wet. power is this amorphous thing that exists in her, because she has it, she knows she has it, but she only has it because someone has given it to her, because people clock her societal value the first time they look at her. she's five feet of raw sexuality hiding a decomposing corpse inside, but she's never the strongest person in the room. at the very least, that honor belongs to whoever she opts to give her attention to.
not that carmy is walking like a tall man. he goes into that bad night with intention, pulled by the strings of his self worth, or lack thereof. he doesn't act like he's humoring parisa — in fact, he seems to believe it. yes, this pipsqueak in a short skirt with sex in her eyes owns me. i'm a worm.
that, more than anything, makes carmy parisa's new favorite person. )
It's okay.
( forgiven for all the sins of his shortcomings, which are numerous and vast, but not anything she's listed so far. that was bullying. the butter soft pad of her thumb rubs against his cockhead, complimented by the brief pain of her manicured nail across his slit. she draws her hand out and presses that thumb to his mouth — soft, pouty lips, an expression like a dog waiting to be put down. )
Yes, you will. We've got all night. ( promise — carmy's not going to hit and quit this one. she gives him a playful slap on the cheek. ) Come somewhere more private with me.
( parisa slips aside and makes a heading towards one of the curtained rooms for private entertaining. carmy will have to deal with his jeans himself. )
not that carmy is walking like a tall man. he goes into that bad night with intention, pulled by the strings of his self worth, or lack thereof. he doesn't act like he's humoring parisa — in fact, he seems to believe it. yes, this pipsqueak in a short skirt with sex in her eyes owns me. i'm a worm.
that, more than anything, makes carmy parisa's new favorite person. )
It's okay.
( forgiven for all the sins of his shortcomings, which are numerous and vast, but not anything she's listed so far. that was bullying. the butter soft pad of her thumb rubs against his cockhead, complimented by the brief pain of her manicured nail across his slit. she draws her hand out and presses that thumb to his mouth — soft, pouty lips, an expression like a dog waiting to be put down. )
Yes, you will. We've got all night. ( promise — carmy's not going to hit and quit this one. she gives him a playful slap on the cheek. ) Come somewhere more private with me.
( parisa slips aside and makes a heading towards one of the curtained rooms for private entertaining. carmy will have to deal with his jeans himself. )
I think I might not return, either.
Ah, bellissimo. I had in my mind that all you ancients and immortals just sat around on Duolingo all day.
( was his vampirism a secrets. oopsie. )
Ah, bellissimo. I had in my mind that all you ancients and immortals just sat around on Duolingo all day.
( was his vampirism a secrets. oopsie. )
[ She puts her thumb to his lips and it tastes like his precum, a bloom of marine salts across his palate. He closes his lips around it for just a second, licks it clean, just because she wants him to. It doesn't matter that he doesn't really know her, she's everything and he's just Carmy.
Then she's going, and he races to get himself all buttoned up again, doesn't look across at the bartender watching him knowingly. He's so hard from the waves of humiliation that he has to limp a little.
Carmy doesn't know shit about programming or the law, but it feels like he's found an exploit in his brain. A loophole, a way out of the Catch-22 of his trauma. The rules that say: Carmy doesn't deserve to experience pleasure, and if he does he has to stop before it gets taken away or twisted around on him, or disappoints him the way that every good thing disappoints him. Carmy is a piece of shit who ruins everything he touches, he's toxic fucking waste. But this isn't pleasure. It isn't a good time, right? It's humiliation and cruelty, the way he deserves. It's okay if his dick gets hard for that. Parisa can see what he is, and he doesn't have to worry about existing in the right way because there will never be a right way. He's already failed.
The private room has like, gear and shit, the kind that he's only seen in Twitter videos he bookmarked guiltily. He's watched a lot of weird porn on Twitter; his favourite is realistic medical play, disinterested doctors in latex gloves trying to work around the boner of some embarrassed patient. Giving clinical handjobs. But he wasn't lying that he knows was CBT is.
He hovers awkwardly, waiting to be told if he should stand or sit or kneel; take his clothes off or leave them on. ]
Then she's going, and he races to get himself all buttoned up again, doesn't look across at the bartender watching him knowingly. He's so hard from the waves of humiliation that he has to limp a little.
Carmy doesn't know shit about programming or the law, but it feels like he's found an exploit in his brain. A loophole, a way out of the Catch-22 of his trauma. The rules that say: Carmy doesn't deserve to experience pleasure, and if he does he has to stop before it gets taken away or twisted around on him, or disappoints him the way that every good thing disappoints him. Carmy is a piece of shit who ruins everything he touches, he's toxic fucking waste. But this isn't pleasure. It isn't a good time, right? It's humiliation and cruelty, the way he deserves. It's okay if his dick gets hard for that. Parisa can see what he is, and he doesn't have to worry about existing in the right way because there will never be a right way. He's already failed.
The private room has like, gear and shit, the kind that he's only seen in Twitter videos he bookmarked guiltily. He's watched a lot of weird porn on Twitter; his favourite is realistic medical play, disinterested doctors in latex gloves trying to work around the boner of some embarrassed patient. Giving clinical handjobs. But he wasn't lying that he knows was CBT is.
He hovers awkwardly, waiting to be told if he should stand or sit or kneel; take his clothes off or leave them on. ]
It seems you know a little more about me than you may have initially let on, bella.
( one look over her shoulder — more like condemnation than consideration, a king turning her thumb downwards, off with his head. parisa idles in a way about the room like it belongs to her, knowing where to go to find what she needs. what she needs, as according to the inner workings of carmy's self-flagellating mind: latex gloves, a cock ring. she debates carmy's skin tone for a second before grabbing the gold. )
You have one rule. That's it. Even you can follow one rule, right?
( the gloves snap against her wrists as she pulls them on, stepping back up to him with a cocky twist to her mouth, pinching his chin. he really does have a pretty face — eyes so blue they're luminescent, mouth so pouty it's like it never smiled a day in its long, tiresome life, connected to a man you prefers slaps to kisses. )
You don't come until you beg for it. If I feel like making you feel good, I'll let you. ( pressure on his chin forces him to nod once, twice. ) "Yes, ma'am." Now open.
( she presses the cock ring into his mouth, left there like the bit on a tamed horse, which is not a completely inaccurate portrayal of this dynamic. parisa's own mind is full of thoughts of carmy on the blood red sheets, pale and perfect on the backdrop, covered in his own cummy humiliation, blushing, apologizing for fucking up. addictive. stepping back, she takes a seat on the cuck chair, crossing one long leg over the other, head tilted. )
Strip and kneel in front of me.
You have one rule. That's it. Even you can follow one rule, right?
( the gloves snap against her wrists as she pulls them on, stepping back up to him with a cocky twist to her mouth, pinching his chin. he really does have a pretty face — eyes so blue they're luminescent, mouth so pouty it's like it never smiled a day in its long, tiresome life, connected to a man you prefers slaps to kisses. )
You don't come until you beg for it. If I feel like making you feel good, I'll let you. ( pressure on his chin forces him to nod once, twice. ) "Yes, ma'am." Now open.
( she presses the cock ring into his mouth, left there like the bit on a tamed horse, which is not a completely inaccurate portrayal of this dynamic. parisa's own mind is full of thoughts of carmy on the blood red sheets, pale and perfect on the backdrop, covered in his own cummy humiliation, blushing, apologizing for fucking up. addictive. stepping back, she takes a seat on the cuck chair, crossing one long leg over the other, head tilted. )
Strip and kneel in front of me.
[He answers sleepily as he steps inside:]
I haven't even had a chance to be annoying yet.
[He only just arrived, after all. Unless of course, she just finds him existing with a pie annoying. Which he realizes is possible, but isn't inclined to take offense to it. He suspects annoyance may be how Parisa shows affection.]
I haven't even had a chance to be annoying yet.
[He only just arrived, after all. Unless of course, she just finds him existing with a pie annoying. Which he realizes is possible, but isn't inclined to take offense to it. He suspects annoyance may be how Parisa shows affection.]
Make yourself free this evening.
[Sorry, Parisa, but there's no easing in to it this time. Barely any warmth in his voice, even. Someone is doing his best to tuck his anger away, but failing miserably. So if he can't do that, clearly the best option is to overwhelm it with a whole new emotion instead. And with Parisa, there's no risk of him overstepping her boundaries in the process. Not when she can give as good as she gets.]
[Sorry, Parisa, but there's no easing in to it this time. Barely any warmth in his voice, even. Someone is doing his best to tuck his anger away, but failing miserably. So if he can't do that, clearly the best option is to overwhelm it with a whole new emotion instead. And with Parisa, there's no risk of him overstepping her boundaries in the process. Not when she can give as good as she gets.]
( who says parisa doesn't like a man on a mission? )
Not feeling very social, I take it. Alright. Where would you have me?
Not feeling very social, I take it. Alright. Where would you have me?
Now isn't that a loaded question.
[Because it's a few images then. The chair he's claimed in the library, the look of indifference on his face as Parisa kneels between his legs. One of the booths in The Otherworld, her shirt the only thing preserving their modesty as she rides him right there for all to see. The maze, a balcony, the dining room. It's image after image, both a threat and a promise rolled in to one. And every single one of them is underpinned by an aggression that Charles has barely even hinted at before.]
Lady's choice.
[Because it's a few images then. The chair he's claimed in the library, the look of indifference on his face as Parisa kneels between his legs. One of the booths in The Otherworld, her shirt the only thing preserving their modesty as she rides him right there for all to see. The maze, a balcony, the dining room. It's image after image, both a threat and a promise rolled in to one. And every single one of them is underpinned by an aggression that Charles has barely even hinted at before.]
Lady's choice.
( well, well. that's new. it's startling enough to give her pause — charles is almost gentlemanly to a fault, with all the regal charm of a well bred englishman sucking clotted cream from a silver spoon. the abruptness? it's not not a turn on. in fact, it's indecently hot. it obviously comes from somewhere, and you wouldn't need to be a telepath to sense the heat of anger roiling off charles like thick beads of sweat — parisa can tell prodding him isn't the right move, at least not right now, when he's searching for an escape.
parisa, the ultimate wet dream, is only too happy to provide. )
I'll meet you in the library, Professor. ( suggestively, ) To start with. The night's young, and I have a big appetite. You know that, don't you?
parisa, the ultimate wet dream, is only too happy to provide. )
I'll meet you in the library, Professor. ( suggestively, ) To start with. The night's young, and I have a big appetite. You know that, don't you?
Yes ma'am.
[ Gold like his stupid little chain - unlike Richie, he doesn't actually wear a crucifix anymore, but it's still a heavy weight in his soul, the kind of upbringing that makes kneeling and penitence familiar. He tongues the silicone, tries not to think about where else a toy in the public kink club might have been. Nose wrinkling just a little.
He really, really wants to be good at this, though — to hold her attention for as long as she's give it to him, even if (especially if) it's demeaning. The fact that he has no idea what he's doing kind of only adds to it, Carmy's bratty arrogance only kicks in when he's confident. Right now he's out of his depth and she's the only guide he has.
He strips out of his tshirt, jeans, briefs, folds them all neatly, dick bobbing between his legs as he puts them down. Comes back and kneels for her, right in front of her dangling stiletto. Hands open palmed on his muscular thighs because he doesn't know what else to do with them. Like a horse he's fit and beautiful and mostly oblivious to it — he works out because he has to in order to survive his own thoughts, ans because it makes long hours in the kitchen easier.
He looks at her a little quizzically, anticipatory, but he still holds the cockring in his mouth, with his teeth at the moment, so he doesn't try to talk. Still, he's wondering why she needs the gloves, filthy possibilities playing through his mind like a porno on fast forward. ]
[ Gold like his stupid little chain - unlike Richie, he doesn't actually wear a crucifix anymore, but it's still a heavy weight in his soul, the kind of upbringing that makes kneeling and penitence familiar. He tongues the silicone, tries not to think about where else a toy in the public kink club might have been. Nose wrinkling just a little.
He really, really wants to be good at this, though — to hold her attention for as long as she's give it to him, even if (especially if) it's demeaning. The fact that he has no idea what he's doing kind of only adds to it, Carmy's bratty arrogance only kicks in when he's confident. Right now he's out of his depth and she's the only guide he has.
He strips out of his tshirt, jeans, briefs, folds them all neatly, dick bobbing between his legs as he puts them down. Comes back and kneels for her, right in front of her dangling stiletto. Hands open palmed on his muscular thighs because he doesn't know what else to do with them. Like a horse he's fit and beautiful and mostly oblivious to it — he works out because he has to in order to survive his own thoughts, ans because it makes long hours in the kitchen easier.
He looks at her a little quizzically, anticipatory, but he still holds the cockring in his mouth, with his teeth at the moment, so he doesn't try to talk. Still, he's wondering why she needs the gloves, filthy possibilities playing through his mind like a porno on fast forward. ]
i know you’re not there and fuck— just fuck
i really miss you, p
my phone buzzes and i keep hoping
i want to know who did it
i want to make them pay even if they’re saying you didn’t fight
( i want to know if you wanted it, he doesn’t send. people are dead and here he is hoping she had control. but she’d said she didn’t want to die. she didn’t. )
i really just—
i miss you
i’m sorry
fuck whoever and whatever did this
you didn’t want to die
i really miss you, p
my phone buzzes and i keep hoping
i want to know who did it
i want to make them pay even if they’re saying you didn’t fight
( i want to know if you wanted it, he doesn’t send. people are dead and here he is hoping she had control. but she’d said she didn’t want to die. she didn’t. )
i really just—
i miss you
i’m sorry
fuck whoever and whatever did this
you didn’t want to die
Edited (sent too soon) 2024-10-10 17:31 (UTC)
[ Matt stayed awake at the party exactly long enough to figure out what the ritual was and that it didn't need his continued participation to succeed. Then he put himself to sleep with a spell and took a little stress siesta.
Now it's a few days later, and Matt has spent most of the intervening time in Harry's room, working on their scale model of the manor. It's peaceful work--it requires attention to detail, gentleness with small pieces, and it precludes speaking to most human beings. But he does carve out a little time to text. ]
Hey. I'm sorry I missed your big return. I hope you're doing okay.
I wanted to say thanks for talking to me. I don't know if you remember, but it helped.
Now it's a few days later, and Matt has spent most of the intervening time in Harry's room, working on their scale model of the manor. It's peaceful work--it requires attention to detail, gentleness with small pieces, and it precludes speaking to most human beings. But he does carve out a little time to text. ]
Hey. I'm sorry I missed your big return. I hope you're doing okay.
I wanted to say thanks for talking to me. I don't know if you remember, but it helped.
I remember.
( distantly, like a dream. all was death and unconsciousness — and then there was matt's voice, disembodied and strange, but comforting. deeply familiar. )
Was it strange, speaking to the dead?
( it serves parisa's point: people with the power will never let the dead rest. naturally, parisa doesn't bring this up. there's no point in upsetting him over something she isn't mad about. )
( distantly, like a dream. all was death and unconsciousness — and then there was matt's voice, disembodied and strange, but comforting. deeply familiar. )
Was it strange, speaking to the dead?
( it serves parisa's point: people with the power will never let the dead rest. naturally, parisa doesn't bring this up. there's no point in upsetting him over something she isn't mad about. )
Page 9 of 17