penancememes | TEST DRIVE MEME #4

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TEST DRIVE MEME #4

ARRIVAL

You remember a dream.

Or maybe nightmare is more accurate.

It was full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. There's a voice that feels like it's coming from all around you at once. Contrasting with the nightmare unfolding around you, it's smooth as silk. It makes you want to listen with every bit of attention you can muster in the moment.

"Judgement has come upon you, but not to worry. It can still be undone."

The voice promises you redemption for your sins. It promises you a better life and everything you could ever want, if only you just stop struggling so much.

And so you do.

Everyone wakes up in the same room initially. The room is done up in red with a cushy bed, a window, an old TV in the corner on a desk, and a few Hieronymus Bosch paintings lining the wall. There's a bathroom to clean up in and any belongings will be sat around the room to be gathered later. There's a duffel bag provided for your convenience.

After feeling a sensation of falling or dropping onto the bed, characters wake up feeling like they've just slept for a week. Their body will feel heavy and stiff, they'll have a massive headache at first.

They'll quickly notice the list of their sins written with their blood on a bedside table on an old piece of parchment. This will mean the list is tied to them and can't be changed or tampered with. They'll also receive their device to connect with others and the network. It won't be anything terribly fancy. As a matter of fact, it looks like a very old Blackberry type phone.

Once characters are ready to leave the room, they'll head down long, winding halls. They're dimly lit and ominous feeling. They may encounter fellow sinners or demonic staff that will direct the newcomer down to the lobby to get their actual room key to settle in. They may be pushy, they may border on courteous. It really just depends on the mood of the staff at the time and how they're treated in return. Eventually, everyone comes to stairs that lead downward.

Once down to the lobby, you'll notice the front desk manned by a demon who looks bored out of its mind. To the side of him is the door to the kitchen where guests may help themselves. To the right is a small duty free shop that seems to have a surprisingly normal, expected stock of items. Look around a bit further, there will be a tiny bar tucked in through a corner door. It seems pretty well-stocked and best of all, self-serve if you want to get away from your demonic hosts for a bit. Of course there's some seating, bar games, and a jukebox tucked in the corner if you'd rather stay and socialize a bit.

Please note that all the songs on the jukebox are appropriately hell-themed. Hopefully Sympathy for the Devil is universally loved.

STAND YOUR GROUND

Prompt I

It seems like not long after everyone has either returned from the maze or arrived fresh to hell that the storms started yet again. A bit more sporadically and not the constant downpour of the previous month, but it's still blood and fire raining from the skies, along with claps of thunder and lightning strikes that seem far too close for comfort. Fortunately, there's not as much flooding this time. Unfortunately, a particularly loud clap of thunder and lightning that strikes close to the hotel seems to leave it and surrounding establishments in the dark. Quickly, the hotel becomes a cold place, urging all guests to to move to the lobby for some warmth.

A roaring fire will be going and there will be hot drinks and snacks kindly provided by the staff while they try to work on correcting the problem.

Eventually, some rather panicked goblin-like demons come rushing up from the basement. They're half-singed and dirty looking from their adventure, so it doesn't seem to bode well for the power returning any time soon. Guests who listen closely will hear the demons apologizing profusely for 'letting them escape' and much more worrisome than that, about how it looks like there might have been some tampering going on down there. The staff is quick to tell the demons to hush and go, not to worry the guests or let word get back to Lucifer.

Once that whole scene is squared away, the staff will be urging guests to volunteer and pushing them into a drafty, creepy basement with nothing but candles and flashlights to lead the way.

It's okay, they reassure, it's not that bad down there! The lights provided all seem to flicker dangerously though, almost completely going out at times, as you descend creaky stairs to a lower level. Apparently the demons are tired of risking their hide to get the power back on, but they're quite happy to risk all the guests'.

The basement is slightly flooded in some areas, bloody rain making its way through cracks in the foundation. It reeks of dampness and mold. There are things that skitter in the corner of your eye as you venture in further. Rats, bugs, and a few smaller beasts.

No one will be given more to go on than they're looking for a breaker box to reset, and hopefully, that'll get everything back up and running again. Unfortunately, there are so many twists and turns that it gets confusing after a while... How come the basement looks much bigger than it has any right to be anyway?

The basement is also jam packed with boxes just begging to be gone through. Most of them just seem to house an odd amount of clothing and what may be personal items left from previous guests, others hold decidedly more satanic and occult items. But if there's anything you're looking for in particular, from jewelry to a coat to a rad new walkman, you'll probably find it down here.

Keep going and you'll come across a room with a heavy steel door. If anyone should venture inside, they'll see a dungeon inside. There are demons chained to the walls in various ways, strung from the ceiling, or caged up that seem to be wasting away and forgotten. If they notice you, they'll try to plead with you to let them out, bribing you with information on Lucifer that no one else knows, but it's probably for the best you don't. There seem to be a few free spaces waiting for new additions after all... and besides, they've got to be locked down there for a reason, right?

Let them go against all better judgement and they'll most likely just rattle something off while they take off running as quick as they can.

Listen closely enough and you might hear tortured screams as they're presumably killed upon reaching the main floor of the lobby. It was probably inevitably, so don't blame yourself.

Anyway, moving on you keep going past the dungeon, and you'll finally find the room with the furnace and breakers to reset. It shouldn't take long to flip them back, but they'll continue to trip on and off for a while and may require multiple groups to make a return trek down to reset them until the demons finally correct the issues with the wiring that is causing these outages.

Speaking of issues with the wiring and what may have caused them... Hang around the bar or lobby enough, or around any area of the community, and you may hear muttering of something called The Veiled Order from beyond the gates. Some of the demons seem excited, others seem nervous. If asked, the demons may brush guests off. If drunk enough or given proper incentive, they may tell a story about a group of rebellious demons that Lucifer tried to cast out. They were damned to live in the burnt forests outside the gates, but sometimes, they still cause trouble.

Apparently, they thought they could be better rulers than Lucifer and were quite discontent with how he maintains Hell.

Some may say they're worried the Order is causing mischief by messing with the hotel, having had ample opportunity to sneak back within the gates. Others will laugh heartily and insist that it's a dumb tale to scare young demons, nothing more. Certainly nothing to worry about.

Another thing guests may overhear or bribe out of demons around the bar or club is talk about the call of infernal nightmares. If pressed for more info, the demons won't give much beyond the fact that it's a miserable thing, entirely miserable.

Prompt II

Apparently what the goblin-like demons accidentally set free are strange demons that possess fungi, dust, and dirt. They don't seem to quite be from this world, but they're called Coal Tars apparently. They're harmless creatures for the most part, but they do have a love of following around people with dark or sinister natures.

The staff will be offering a reward of a gourmet dinner of the guest's choice if anyone around the hotel will help to capture these little pests and bring them to the front desk. Afterwards, they'll be returned to the basement and locked away again.

Otherwise, people are free to ignore them or laugh at the people who can't seem to shake the little creatures following them around.

Careful though, breathing them in can make your lungs rot. Nasty way to go probably.

REACH UP HIGH

Prompt I
Warnings: cutting, blood, torture.

Whether you've been here for months or you're freshly arrived, your demonic overlord expects some participation. You can try and shirk the responsibility, of course. You can bargain your way out of it for a while. But eventually, you may find yourself trapped in a room just off the gym that's been fondly dubbed the torture room. It has all manner of equipment in there, along with an iron maiden even.

But don't worry about any of that right now. It probably won't be used.

You can try the door, but even with super human strength or every lock picking skill in the book, you won't be able to open it.

It soon becomes apparent what you're supposed to do soon enough when someone else is eventually shoved in with you. Both of your lists of sins will appear on a table that's been placed in the center of the room with two handy knives. You can choose to guard these or not care at all that they're on display.

"Know that honesty is a good place to start on your road to redemption. Sure, it can be terrifying at first, but that's why you've been given a partner in this journey. Pick up your knives and carve at least one sin into each other's flesh. Help in the journey to be candid with everyone you should meet here!"

The voice echoes all around you again, just like in the nightmare, and once again there's the pull to give in. This voice really does seem like it has your best interests at heart.

"If you need a bit of encouragement, we'll be giving it shortly."

It isn't a lie or idle threat either. The longer you wait to do what's been requested of you, the more shallow cuts that will appear on both of your bodies. Are you really prepared to endure this pain when giving in would be so much easier?

And more than that, are you willing to let another suffer along with you?

Eventually, the cuts will stop if you suffer them long enough, but you'll have failed this challenge and sustained more damage than if you'd just gone along with it. Satan will also be very disappointed in you.

Prompt II

"A generous nature is an important part of being a righteous person. Greed is a sin my Father frowns on quite a bit. What I ask you to do today is to go out and find a gift for that special someone or friend of yours and give them something to smile over."

With the items available in the basement and the shop in the hotel carrying a few new items, Lucifer would like to spread the good will of gift giving. It doesn't matter if you're not well acquainted with each other yet. You don't need to be! Anyone can spread cheer by giving a gift.

And if you don't, expect to be in excruciating pain for a few hours, and struggling for a breath. If you can't share a gift, then you don't deserve to share all that oxygen, do you?

FOLLOW ME DOWN

Prompt I
Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, potential non-con/dub-con.

With all the sinners, new and old, the bar will be lit up with activity and absolutely bustling with guests and demons alike. Food and drinks will be readily available and provided by hotel staff (although they might not always know what humans eat. What do you mean, you don't like fried kitten?), music will be blaring, and overall, there will be an energy to the atmosphere that's absolutely contagious. Even if you aren't typically inclined to linger at these sorts of events, there will be a certain pull to stay and have a bit of fun.

You may not get much of a chance to have that in hell after all. So one drink won't hurt, right? Nor will one more after that.

There will also be every sort of party drug available that might tickle your fancy. There's no harm in experimenting, is there? You're already in hell and the staff is handing it out and so helpfully showing you how to use it, or recommending a type that would suit what you want.

You've presumably done your atonement for the day, yes? So cut back a bit, let loose. Hell might be pain and torment, but it's also a nonstop party in the bar.

There's even a brand new stage and a karaoke machine for those feeling brave!

Ask the staff demons very nicely and you may even get less scrupulous drugs as well. Things that will convince your fellow damned souls to tell only the truth for a fun prank, or perhaps even potions that will make someone so enamored with you, they won't take their eyes, or hands, off you. How dare they give you the cold shoulder earlier, right? You've got them now.

There are also tables set up for all sorts of gambling and various bar games to entertain yourself with. Since currency as most are familiar with it doesn't quite exist down here, most of the demons seem to be accepting bits of your soul, if you're in a gambling mood. You may also get pulled into a fun game of strip poker against one of your fellow guests for a few succubi that are having a night out.

Relax and enjoy your night. Coming here and facing your sins is the hard part, so surely you deserve to have a little fun, right?

Prompt II
Warnings: sex, aphrodisiacs, potential dubcon/noncon, potential kinks.

The club within Penance has always offered many options for debauchery, but now it seems they're stepping things up a bit. There are themed rooms for sex machines (the same that were present at the carnival) that can be controlled by a demon or a partner. If asked, they'll gladly set you up on stage to put on a performance for the entire club.

They won't side eye you for any other kink you ask for either, however depraved it is.

But the succubi are handing out potions again, that can be taken willingly or not. The purpose of them is to strip away all of your inhibitions... or in certain cases, your mind as well as your will. It will leave those who take the potion as a perfect little pet or slave for someone.

It doesn't matter if you're generally strong-willed or not interested in submitting. You'll find yourself wanting to please someone until it's the most important thing on your mind. Maybe until it's the only thing on your mind. It doesn't even matter if you generally hate or adore the person you've attached yourself to, you'll find yourself sinking down on your knees anyway.

This is the perfect time to play out all those daddy kinks, domination and submission scenes, or perhaps a bit of pet play. It doesn't matter what theme of the game you choose, you're suddenly all for it no matter what.

Because you just want to make someone happy, even if what makes them happy is hurting you as much as pampering.

MISC.
Thanks for joining us for our fourth test drive meme, sinners! Reserves are now open for the upcoming app round on August 1st

If you want to speak with Lucifer, you're free to text or pray to him right here

If you let a demon loose in the dungeon, reply here to see what tidbit of info they revealed!

If you have a comment, suggestion, etc. please go here!

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Ronan's breath hitches around Frank's cock and his rhythm falters for a second. He recovers and doesn't stop, but he wasn't expecting the order, not really. Okay, yeah, he'd said "sir" or whatever, and he'd pretty much indicated he was going to do as he was told for once in his life, but...he still hadn't really expected that.

Even more, he wouldn't have expected to just obey, unquestioningly, without argument or smart remark.

What if I don't? he'd asked. But now he obeys anyway, fumbling his jeans open with the hand that isn't on Frank's cock, pulling his own already hard cock out. The difficult part is letting his hand move away again, not stroking himself, not doing...anything except still moving his mouth on Frank. He comes up for a second to breathe, but he doesn't stop.

Something about the easy, immediate way that he was obeyed made Frank's cock twitch with eagerness. He groaned, and his hips did jump forward this time, just a little, to chase how Ronan pulled away to grab a breath.

Then he reigned himself in, held still again. He pushed Ronan back to admire the mess of his mouth and the admirable line of his body, down to his cock jutting out from his lap.

Yes, that's what he wanted.

"Lay back." It was the same quiet, unavoidable tone. Do as I say. Don't talk back.

Ronan resisted at first, enjoying the feel of Frank's cock in his mouth. But there wasn't too much room to argue with Frank's insistence and that tone in his voice, so Ronan relented, leaning back a little at first. He supported himself on his wrist for a minute, bracelets sliding down to rest against his hand. He looked up at Frank, open mouthed, pupils blown, obvious even in the dim light of the room.

He tilted his head the other way. His mouth opened a little further, like he was going to talk back. In the end, he didn't do it, shutting his mouth too quick like he was afraid if he didn't then he'd say something he regretted.

He dropped his hand away from Frank finally and leaned back again, supporting arm letting him slide down until he was on his elbows. Then those moved too and he was laying back against the bed, hurried breathing obvious with the rise and fall of his chest.

Frank let Ronan take his time, and admired him hungrily on the way down. He stayed where he was, standing over him, cock out of his jeans but otherwise neatly contained. For a moment, he let Ronan stew in compliance. This was a patience thing. Ronan didn't strike Frank as a patient person, mostly because Frank had only learned patience through warfare and they were too alike that way.

When he couldn't stand it much more, he reached for the boy. Having him lay back wasn't the best for stripping him, but that was half the fun too. Tugging. Rearranging long limbs. Ronan's body was compliant, but he was still a firm, lean boy, and Frank liked the opportunity to press his hands into him, feel the warmth of skin and shiver of breath.

When he got Ronan's cock out, he was a little surprised he was uncut, but he didn't say anything about it, instead he lazily pumped his hand.

Ronan absolutely isn't a patient person. There's impatience written in every line of his angular body. He could be a total pain about letting Frank undress him, resist just to resist, but he doesn't. He moves with Frank to get his clothes off until finally, finally, Frank touches his cock. He half-groans, half-gasps at the touch, trying not to push his hips into it.

The drink peels away his inhibitions, at least mostly, leaving him much more eager than he would normally be.

He reaches for Frank, pulling at his shirt, hands slipping underneath it where he can reach. He's not sure Frank will let him pull it all the way off, but it never hurts to try.

Frank let Ronan strip off his shirt. He had new scars underneath, MURDER bold near his chest and up to his shoulder, and a myriad of other, smaller things from the nightmares and just from being in Hell.

He admired him, sprawled on the bed, stripped of everything. He scraped his fingers slowly up his thighs, across his stomach. Tantalizing little bits of touch.

After a moment of touch, he sank down between Ronan's legs. He lapped at the root of his cock, stroking him lazily. His mouth was curved slightly, an almost teasing smile. "Are you going to be a good boy for me, Ronan?"

Ronan has escaped new scars here so far, but he hasn't escaped sins. The only real indication of this is the creeping lines of his tattoo spreading from his back up over his shoulders, as if they might send spiking vines down his front. That, and down on his hip, there's a paw print tattooed there, thanks to Kavinsky and their shared dream.

Ronan watches everything Frank does with his keen gaze, unblinking for a long time, breath sped up, pulse racing. Frank's nails leave behind faint red marks that fade immediately - for now.

He has to bite down to suppress the sound that threatens to burst out of him at Frank's mouth on him. He's already hard and wanting, impatience painted in the way he holds himself. The effect of the drink continues, driving him to want to somehow please Frank instead of give him a hard time or rail against him.

He nods. "Yes, sir," he says, softly and without his normal barbs of pretence.

Frank recognized the dog paw, a tattoo that Prokopenko had in almost perfect replica. If he thought anything about it, he kept it to himself. What these boys meant to each other wasn't his business--and it wasn't as if he didn't understand the craving for camaraderie. He'd only gotten out of a tattoo himself by begging off with his wife's dislike of them--a statement which had become a lie, but he'd never reconsidered the stance.

In any case, his attention was on Ronan, the strain of his cock and slight shiver in his thighs. Frank kept his mouth busy on the root of Ronan's cock for now, nuzzling, licking, working against the swell of his balls a little.

He grabbed one of Ronan's ankles and pressed, gentle but insist, to get him to put his heel up on the edge of the cot he was strewn across.

Ronan moaned softly from behind clenched teeth as Frank's mouth continued working on him. He's so amped up, spurred on by the drink but also by just wanting the contact, wanting Frank's attention. It's all caught up in things he can't sort out in his head.

It doesn't matter at the moment.

He obliges by moving his leg up, heel against the bed as prompted.

"Fuck," he says, more gasp than word.

Frank hummed softly against him. He stroked him now, a teasing sort of touch, as he eased his head further down, until he could scrape his teeth gently against the slight swell of his ass and slick his tongue absolutely obscenely against his hole. That warranted its own grown, some new, deeply filthy noise working out of him as he let himself indulge in the gesture.

"I want to take you apart," he said, right against Ronan like that. "Don't kick me in the head."

This is entirely new, and Ronan has no idea how to deal with it. He's not a virgin, but this sensation is unimaginable to him, because he so rarely lets himself think anything much beyond blow jobs and hurried sex. That's most of what he's done. This is intimate, but it's also...with Frank. This isn't like it would be with Adam or Draco or even Kavinsky.

The noise he makes is just as obscene, maybe somewhat desperate.

I want to take you apart, Frank says to him, and that's halfway to the goal.

"I won't," he promises and means it. He's not entirely sure he can keep that promise, because he already feels like he's not entirely in control of his body here.

Frank only hummed against Ronan. There was nothing else to do, after all. His mouth was occupied, his hands busy holding Ronan at the ankle and stroking him teasingly. This was a lovely place to be, a lovely thing to do. Ronan was pliant but not limp or overwhelmed, just at that lovely stage of letting things happen to him.

Between filthy swipes of the tongue and vulgar presses in against the tight ring of muscle, Frank murmured quiet praise to Ronan's skin. Like he could breathe it into him, make him believe that he was a desirable thing.

Ronan isn't used enough to the sensation to hold on, to keep his typical aloofness or stoicism. Besides, he's already more than consented to whatever else is going to happen in this room. This is unexpected but incredible, and the sounds he makes indicate that he feels like that.

"Fuck, Frank, please," he finally says, all but writhing under the older man's tongue. He keeps his promise not to kick him, but it's impossible to stay still. He's actually pretty sure he can get off like this, without attention directly on his cock, and that's a realisation he's never had before. It's kind of embarrassing, actually, so maybe that please is asking for something other than continuation, but he doesn't have the coherence to make a real sentence about it.

The begging was simple but lovely. Frank groaned a little bit, brought his hand up to paw at Ronan's ass. With a bit more spit, a bit more work, he felt good enough about easing one spit-slick finger into Ronan too. He'd get lube in a moment, but right now he wanted to tease him, give him a bit more to work with.

As he eased his finger in, worked him open slowly, he pulled his mouth away and gazed up Ronan's languid, taut body. Youth looked good on him, all gangly limbs and growing muscles, sharp edges that childhood had left behind and metabolism hadn't softened back out again.

"You're doing so good," Frank murmured, pressing a kiss against the crest of one hip, and then the other. "Get the lube for me. I'll open you up, sweet boy."

"Fuck," he says, once, again, again. Frank's finger pushes inside him and he can't keep it together, do anything coherent except grind his hips against the older man's finger. He hasn't actually let anyone actually fuck him here in hell, even when he's considered it or wanted them to.

Maybe that's just part of his own guilt complex, denying things he wants. But he won't, can't bring himself to, deny this and for the moment he doesn't try.

He stares down at Frank for a second, letting the words be words instead of just sound he isn't processing. When he gets it, a few seconds behind, he lets out a breath he didn't realise he's been holding. He moves then, quick out of desperation, twisting away to find the lube - one of many bottles in the room - in the drawer of the table near the bed. He sits up enough to hand it to Frank, sharp ice-blue eyes watching the man with all of his normal intensity but precious little of his normal opposition to everyone and everything.

It's a fumbling, clumsy sort of movement, but that was fine. Frank kept his finger just barely in Ronan and leaned up. He took the lube, and then leaned in to kiss Ronan's collarbone, his throat, up his chin. He didn't quite dare kiss his mouth. Not because he didn't want to, he did, but because he'd just been working his ass and some people were sensitive about that.

He took his finger out and slicked a couple of them.

"C'mon," he murmured. He climbed up onto the bed and tugged Ronan along with him gently, arranging him how he wanted, close to him and easy to get at. His fingers came right back, teasing his hold, spreading the lube before he started to sink one in.

Ronan doesn't move to kiss Frank, not because he actually cares about where his mouth has been but because he likes where he's being kissed just fine. He tilts his head so Frank has better access to his neck, like a dog finally trusting someone it doesn't know well with its belly. Maybe it's not that different a thing.

Ronan moves with Frank, reaching for him absently. His eyes close and his hips move with Frank's hand. The lube is cold, but Frank isn't, so it's a balance.

"Yes, fuck," he says, barely a whisper. These admissions of want are hard for him.

Frank didn't mind that it was quiet. It was earnest, it was a little desperate, it sent fire right through him, made his cock twitch. He kept kissing at Ronan's neck, teeth now, working up a bit of a bruise that wouldn't be easily covered because of where it was. He didn't think Ronan minded very much.

"Easy," he sighed, sinking his finger in further. "Relax. You're doing so good. Such a good boy."

Ronan has never really minded bruises, regardless of how they got there. He doesn't usually have a lot of the ones from other people's teeth. If Kavinsky sees it, he'll probably get mad. Good, let him.

He tries to make himself relax, but it isn't easy. Still, this doesn't really hurt, and if it does, he doesn't care.

One hand grabs at Frank's skin with long fingers, settling on his shoulder, digging in against the muscle there. This is subconscious action, just the desire to touch.

He thinks of demanding more, urging Frank to be more rough solider and less careful, but...another time. He wants what Frank wants. He wants all of this, whatever it is. He might deny it later, avoid it, fight it.

Now, grasping hands and all, he finally moves to push against Frank's hand again, taking as much as he can get here and now.

The grip, the closeness, was all a glorious sort of thing. Frank leaned over Ronan a bit, finally moved up the last little bit and kissed him. That was a hungry thing, leaning in and taking what he wanted from Ronan.

He sank his finger in faster, more steadily, as Ronan sank back against his hand.

"There it is," he sighed against Ronan's mouth. He was unbelievably hard just now, but he'd keep it together. He didn't want to hurt Ronan, just to make him feel good, to take him apart a little bit. He pulled back a little teased with a second slick finger, giving him the same slow, easing treatment this time too. "Good boy."

Ronan kisses him back, giving and demanding at the same time, sharp and restless, the weird contradictions that made up much of who he was manifest in the kiss.

"Fuck," he says again against Frank's mouth. "Come on," he says, body pushing for more than Frank is giving him. He doesn't need all this slow attention, he thinks. He doesn't think of himself as soft any more than anyone else does. Frank's praise is too much. He doesn't know what to do with it, the warmth it spreads in him.

"I just want..." he says, but he can't work the rest of the words so he stumbles over them. He said he wanted to do what Frank wants him to, and he does, but that doesn't mean he isn't driven by his own desire too.

"I know," Frank said, and murmured a shushing breath against Ronan's mouth, just soft. Sh-sh-sh. He moved his fingers faster, a third one now, scissoring and stretching him. It wasn't long now, because he was getting a little impatient himself, wanting to see just how Ronan was when he was being taken apart all the way.

When he pulled his fingers out of Ronan, he smeared his slick hand across his balls and up his cock, stroking him lazily for a moment.

There were a number of ways he could have him. In the end, he decided he wanted to watch Ronan's face. So Frank slid off the side of the bed and dragged Ronan along with him, until he could fold the boy's legs up from the side of the bed. He grabbed the lube and slicked some more on him, then some on his cock, and rubbed himself against him slowly for a moment.

"Tell me what you want," he said, nudging just the head against Ronan's hole.

Ronan's eyes briefly close as Frank's slick hand brushes over him, teasing, not giving him enough just yet.

He pushes with his hands, making Frank's movement easier, going along with him. Not that Frank really needs the help; Ronan's tall, but he's all lean edges, and Frank is stronger than he is. It probably wouldn't take him too much to move Ronan around even if Ronan was resisting.

His breath comes in pants, open-mouthed and wanting. He watches Frank, though he can't see everything from this angle. He's pliant, but there's still that steel core in him, waiting under every inch of him, taut but not resistant.

He falters for a second at Frank's request. He doesn't say shit like this. He says absolutely the worst things, constantly, without remorse. Why this is different in his head is anyone's guess. He just falls into fumbling about with people, not like this at all, not articulating it too much.

But it's not like he's shy. Hesitant and hung up on his own stupid issues, sure, but not shy.

So after a few moments of Frank teasing him, he finally says, "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me." It's almost a demand, but not quite; he's still a bit deferential thanks to the drink, but he's not ever without his thorns.

"You can do better than that," Frank assured, but it was gentle. He slid his hand up and covered Ronan's eyes, giving him this moment of privacy or discretion. Even so, he was already sinking in. Ronan's body was forgiving and sweet, parting for him, taking him in.

He groaned, low and deep, as he filled him up.

"Oh, fuck," he sighed. He didn't go slow, per se. It was steady. His other hand pawed at Ronan's ass, holding him open as he pulled back to the tip, a tease again. "Oh, sweet boy. C'mon, Ronan. Say it again, c'mon."

Ronan sort of groans his protest to Frank's words, but that sound becomes encouragement instead as Frank finally pushes inside him, steadily, not slow but not enough yet.

"God, fuck me, Frank," he says, still demanding more than asking because he's Ronan.

His eyes are closed, because Frank's hand is over them. Is this easier without looking? Maybe. It's less personal, less embarrassing. He doesn't say things like this.

What would Kavinsky say? Something filthy. He'll never admit to himself or anyone else in a million years that he takes dirty talk inspiration from Kavinsky, but that's what he thinks of.

"I want your cock," he manages. It's a bit halted, stumbling. He really doesn't say things like this, but he wants so badly to do what Frank wants him to.

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