TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[penancemods]

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

With the Mares leaving, the nightmares fade right along with them. Unfortunately, the hotel outside is looking rather worse for wear because of it. It's been pummeled, cracks in the siding and broken windows are everywhere. It looks much more befitting of the hellish landscape surrounding it, true, but Lucifer is already putting the demonic staff on repairs. They'll be enlisting the help of guests, whether they want to or not. Watch out when the whips and other punishments come out to play for those who seem to be slacking too hard.

The staff hardly has patience for it, whether the guests are feeling up to it or not. In truth, neither are the demons. Exhaustion is hanging heavy in the air for everyone.

But life must go on.

On the plus side, at least all the doorknobs and locks seem to be returning.

For current guests, they may now be dealing with a Frenzy come down and finding that they still itch for another fix. It won't be an easy ride. Withdrawals come with extreme fatigue, aches and pains, chills, depression, and an urge to potentially hurt yourself or others as agitation sets in. If asked for tips on dealing with it, the staff will tell the guests to just rest whenever they can, stay hydrated, and eat. The nausea that follows might make that difficult, but the staff seems to have very little time for sympathy at this point in time.

For new guests, they'll find things in quite a bit of disarray. Fortunately the demons are eager to hand out chores. They range from cleaning up broken glass and other items around the hotel, to removing boards from windows, to Hell beasts that need to be moved back from the basement to their enclosure just outside the hotel and helped to settle back in.

Anyone is free to visit any new beast friends they've made whenever they desire after this point. As a distraction, the hotel staff will even be offering riding lessons for larger beasts, both horse and canine-like ones.

Despite the push for normalcy though, there's a wariness in the air. Whether that's because of the recent bout with the Mares or the hushed whispers continuing on about the Veiled Order, it's uncertain. Something just feels off. Not to worry though, it's probably just paranoia creeping in. No one really wants to talk about it either way.

Every evening, once all the hard work is done, the staff seems to find the time to get a roaring fire going in the lobby fireplace and set up a buffet of food and drink for everyone to enjoy. There's every sort of food imaginable, and even some you wish you'd never seen. Spit-roasted dog, anyone? It's a delicacy here. There's also a lot of desserts of varying kinds from chocolates to ice cream to cakes and pies. Beer, coffee, sodas, and anything else people could want to drink is also on offer. There are even some specialty drinks for the vampiric guests around here.

There's entertainment as well. The demons are putting on makeshift plays and doing improv comedy routines, as well as dragging guests into the act if they seem interested. They'll ask them to perform tricks or act out Shakespearean scenes. For what it's worth, it does actually seem like everyone is trying to just have some fun. There's no harm in refusing to act anything out beyond some mostly good-natured booing and ribbing.

The succubi have also been given a room to set up for personal massages (with or without the happy ending). Massages are done in groups though, so you might want to rethink anything too frisky. If asked, the succubi will step aside and allow guests to massage each other instead, if that's more comfortable.

They're offering to help bathe and wash anyone who desires it for extra pampering, but most folks are understandably wary of the succubi and incubi around. No sexual play is actually being forced in these circumstances since, for once, the demons are well fed on sexual energy.

Oddly enough, the staff does seem to just genuinely want to do something refreshing. Although it's still probably clearly more for themselves than anyone else. Better enjoy it while it lasts though!

Prompt II

As another way to spoil (or distract) the guests a bit more, a new location has been brought to life!

Lucifer has insisted upon a movie theatre. It's located a short walk from the hotel. It's impossible to miss as the sign flickers and it's surrounded by a few very broken down, abandoned buildings still.

Outside, it looks like an old classic establishment from a time long since passed, but it has all the modern conveniences inside at least. From plush seats that recline and maybe get a bit too into giving a massage to all the treats you could ask for. So grab yourself some popcorn, a soda, hot dogs, or whatever else you want. There's also alcoholic beverages available for those who really need help getting through a movie.



Currently, the theatre is showing: Bedazzled, Manos: The Hands of Fate, Captain America (1990 version), Troll 2.

But there are request slips to be filled out by sinners if there's another movie they'd like to see when they rotate films around each month.

Located within the theatre is an arcade with zombie-themed shooter games, Pac-Man, motorcycle racing, and claw machines. There are also a few other gaming machines and one that's supposed to test romantic compatibility between couples. See if you're truly meant to be!

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

"Offering one another counsel is a trait God rather admires. Compassion, goodwill... all of that. He has requested a demonstration that all of you are complying with your redemption, so I thought of a rather interesting way to show him." Lucifer's voice rings out warm and almost affectionate as he speaks within the guests' heads, the sound ringing within their skulls and beckoning them to trust him.

Even as demons grab at guests and haul them into a room only to lock the door. As usual, the doors can't be opened through any means guests will be able to perform. At least the room is cozy looking, with a plush couch and chairs.

"I must say that I'm proud of all of you. What I ask, I have no doubt that you will accomplish. Please, both of you have a seat and discuss anything from a bad memory, a fear, or even a silly little phobia you may not be proud of. Listen to each other, help one another as I know you can."

That's right. Guests are expected to share a bit about themselves, whether it's a trauma or a past sin they feel guilty for. Maybe it's even something as simple as an irrational fear of spiders... as long as it's sincere, it counts. Guests must absolutely share something if they don't want to be punished. They'll also have to provide sympathy or counsel.

If no one speaks, there's always a catch. The longer one of the participants refuses to speak of anything real, or lies, the more a headache will start to set in. Guests will feel a slight throbbing in the temples that grows steadily worse until it's almost blinding. Gradually, blood will start oozing from eyes, nose, and ears.

All of it will stop the minute guests comply and play along.

It is possible to wait out the punishment if guests are willing to let each other suffer for it, but this will be considered a failed challenge and Lucifer will have to rethink all that pride he said he had.

FOLLOW ME DOWN

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

Those newly arrived to Hell will hear about a drug called Frenzy. The effects of which include the lack of a need to sleep for as long as one uses it, feeling like the best version of oneself, and feeling better than they possibly ever have. It may even get to the point where pain is minimized or even welcomed as a pleasurable experience.

The downsides of the drug include giving into a frenzy of one's basest instincts, whether it's lust or anger or anything else that they're naturally inclined towards.

This drug will be offered at the club outside the hotel, but the succubi who make it will demand payment up front this time. This can come in the form of keeping the club up and cleaned, serving guests, or performing on stage. It may also include sex with the demons or other patrons, or putting on solo performances for an audience. The succubi won't particularly care how willing guests are when they come to demand their payment and may force it.

Some will tell you that it's absolutely worth the price though, especially down in Hell where there's so much pain already. What's wrong with a little bit of escape, really? Others will tell you to stay far away from it all.

Of course the demons fail to mention it has the potential to be addictive, but users will probably figure that out on their own once they've come down. It isn't their fault if no one did their research!

Beyond Frenzy, the club also offers a variety of drinks and aphrodisiac-laced foods. There are poles for dancing, plush couches throughout as well as more private tables. There are stages where sex machines are set up, as well as other areas to tie up volunteers or to set up any other type of play imaginable. There are private rooms that can be rented out for the night for those who really want to explore their desires.

Attractive succubi and incubi roam the club as staff or active participants. Some will become more forceful if they're hungry, others will gladly offer any sort of temptations they can.

Careful if you ever see through a their pretty illusion and see the old, angry crones they really are though. It's a bit hard to forget that.

Regular demons also frequent the club, ranging in looks from tiny, mischief-making goblins to goat-like beasts to more humanoid types. There may even be tentacled-beasts who may not be the best at conversation, but will be eager to participate any play they're invited to.

There's a dance floor and loud music pumping through the club in a dedicated space for those who'd rather just dance the night away safely detached from the sexual side of things. All manner of drugs will be offered for those who ask staff, not just Frenzy.

Prompt II
Warnings: Potential violence and abuse.
There are hooded figures making their way through the hotel, but it's oddly hard to focus on them. The more guests try, the more their attention wants to drift to anything else.

For those magically inclined, they may notice the hint of a spell or black magic, but it's just as easily forgotten as everything else.

Guests won't even notice when the figure brushes against them, a skeletal hand adorned with gold brushing over any exposed skin they can reach with a whisper light touch.

It's an encounter that's so easily written off as guests continue on with their day, it really isn't worth mentioning at all later.

But ever since it happened, it feels like there's a poison that's entered the guest's system, twisting around their insides until they feel almost hollowed out. It's a whisper in the ear, inspiring envious feelings towards their fellow guests and the local demons that may never have been there before.

Why do they have it so easy? Why do they have fewer sins and why do more people love them than they do you? Why are you so unimportant to them? Why does everything come so easily to them when you have to work so hard for it?

Envy doesn't have to make any rational sense at all. It can happen at the most inopportune times and leave one feeling like they're burning up from the inside at the injustice of it all.

Even if it's someone a guest generally likes or gets along with, they'll feel this nasty little sensation creeping in.

Rage replaces the envy eventually. The anger starts to become overwhelming. After all, you're the one who is truly worthy of all the attention, all the adoration, all the things they've got. Other people are merely foolish for not realizing it.

Or perhaps it's not even envy at what the other guy has. Perhaps it's because the guest craves all the attention and all the affection of this other person. The guest may never have sought love or possession before, but suddenly it's all they seem to crave from this one person. They'll do anything to have it or to become as close to one person as possible.

Doesn't it eventually just make you want to hurt them for it all? Whether verbally or physically, guests will be drawn to action, or even force if they must. They will desire to either claim what they want or make the other admit to never having deserved it.

Alternatively, guests may also be reduced to begging to be noticed by the object of their envy, desperate enough to do anything to get what they feel is rightfully theirs.

This influence will be hard to fight off, but stronger guests will be able to fend off the envious effects of the mysterious demons. Others won't be so lucky.

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

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

If you have questions, comments, suggestions, etc., go here.


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Comments

[knucklesdirty]

Well, it was better to have it and not need it as the saying went. And well, Francis liked touch, contact, being touched. So it's a bit of practicality as well as optimism. There's an exhale of wry amusement as the other man grabs the lube out of the box, his lips curving with suggestion, although he does grab for it back, it's almost out of reflex than anything else. "Oh, I'm sure you can figure it out," teasing with a curve of his mouth that's wicked and interested.

Bullseye holds it out of reach, leaning in, and Francis exhales at the question. He reaches up, dragging a finger against the man's chest, letting the touch brush against one of the cuts in a way that definitely says he doesn't mind the blood, given how it smears against his fingertip. It might ruin the sheets, but he can get another set. He's pretty sure it'll be worth it. He nods in slow agreement, leaning in so that when he talks his lips hover against the corner of his mouth.

"It can wait," he agrees, warm and a little bit eager. "You look sort of nice like this," he admits softly. The sort of thing he wouldn't normally say out loud, but it was true anyway, and somehow he got the feeling he didn't mind that Francis was sort of a twisted mess. That he ran darker than people liked to see him as.

[clozapine]

The finger against his chest has him biting his lip to avoid offering commentary that might not be welcome. Usually the smear of blood only tended to excite him if the blood belonged to someone else. Apparently he isn't too old to learn new things about himself. Francis' lips are so close he could catch them with a simple turn of his head if he wanted to.

"Like what?" Lester doesn't suspect he means shirtless on his bed. It's probably the combination of shirtless and bleeding though. Or at least the latter. It's delightfully fucked up and exactly the shit he's into. And for obvious reasons he wants to hear Francis say it.

He moves further up the bed, tugging the archer along with him. His hands pull Francis forward by his belt so that he's practically on his lap where it's much easier for Lester to undo the fastening and take it off.

[knucklesdirty]

There's that question, and there's a beat, like Francis is waiting to see if it smooths over, evaporates, but it doesn't. And there's something to his tone that seems to expect an answer. Talkative and playful as he can be, this is not the sort of thing that he's good at saying out loud. It's admitting to just how twisted his desires tend to lean, and in a way that's more clear than just how he reacted to his hand on his wrists, fingers curling against his throat.

"Bloody," he answers after a moment, the words low, leaning back just a little so he can meet his eyes. Like his trying to gauge his reaction. "I like how it looks on your skin." And yeah, it's fucked up, but there's a raw sort of honesty to it too. Even if it's clearly something he's not used to saying or talking about, but he does it anyway. Because there's something about Bullseye where he doesn't feel like the only one that's messed up here. Maybe it's the part where he's still here.

The man shifts more onto the bed, taking Francis with him, and there's a catch of his breath at the way that he almost ends up in the other man's lap. Which isn't a bad position at all, especially with fingers tugging at his belt. He shifts, moving so he straddles his lap a little more properly, because Francis isn't actually shy, not about the sex, anyway. That way his body arches a little, leaning in as his hands drag down against his sides, skimming the marks and watching the way it streaks his skin as he traces against his abs and his eyes glimmer dark.

[clozapine]

For a moment he doesn’t think the guy has it in him to answer. Wouldn’t blame him, honestly. Not with the weight that comes with a family name like Barton. On the other hand he hasn’t failed to surprise him yet, so the smile on his face broadens when he does speak.

“Yeah?” Lester isn’t usually so chatty during sex, but they’d pretty much skipped over the getting to know each other part of meeting new people. “It suits you too.” he adds, running fingers over one of Francis’ cuts to smear the blood over his stomach.

He decides to give the guy a break and leans in to kiss him while a hand runs over his hip and down into the pants he’s just undone. It’s been a little while since the last time he’s had the chance to do this, so he’s less hesitant than any reasonable person would be. Lester palms at the front of Francis’ pants while he enjoys the view of him for another moment.

[knucklesdirty]

He shivers a little, his breath catching on a low gasp as his fingers drag over one of his cuts, smearing the blood on his skin. And Francis likes it when it's his blood too. He likes the compliment, twisted as it might be. And then he's kissing him, and Francis leans into the contact, the warmth and the pressure of the man's mouth against his own. He's eager, almost hungry for it, but there's experience in how he kisses him, one hand curling lightly against his jaw, slight nips of teeth. Francis is soft in small, quiet ways, but not like this.

He likes pushing lines, boundaries, and seeing where that ends up. Of course when his hand is sliding off his hip and into his pants, Francis shivers with how it spikes heat down his spine. The blonde moaning softly into his mouth as his fingers palm against the front of his pants, and he's already mostly hard because everything since they were shoved into that punishment room was like a tease, made his pulse skip.

Having Bullseye's hands on him is just that much better, though. Francis' free hand pushes to his waistband, considers undoing his pants and then settles on just squirming slender fingers underneath. The pads of his fingers are still a little slick as he touches, shameless as he gropes against him with a low hum of want between their mouths. His hips twitch a little into Bullseye's touch and fuck. It's not like he's never been touched or something, but there's something to it. The copper and ache and how their skin presses together.

[clozapine]

Bullseye doesn't doubt for even a moment that someone Francis' age would not have any issue getting aroused, but at the same time he wasn't quite expecting him to be that hard when he feels him over. Making him wait while he's in that state seems like a travesty.

It's soon clear that he isn't the only one getting handsy when there's one quickly slipping fingers beneath the fabric of his pants. He rocks his hips toward the touch slowly. Gradually his pants begin to feel offensive in how constricting they are, but he tries to push that aside for a moment.

He loops one arm around Francis' waist to pull him up onto his knees just so he can hook his fingers into both pant and underwear and hall it all down to his knees. That's really all he needs for now. While he takes in the sight of having freed the man's cock, he gets a good amount of lube on his fingers. Bullseye doesn't wait to rub slick fingertips against the archer's hole, two fingers pushing inside him shortly after followed by a third with no warning or permission. He just wants to see how much he'll take without complaint.

Bullseye breaks away from the kiss to press kisses along Francis' collar bone. Only not quite kisses. They're more like bites with enough suction to leave behind distinct marks whenever he pauses.

[knucklesdirty]

Francis can't entirely help himself, sliding fingers and slow touches against the shape of his cock, likes how he feels under his hand. He likes the way his hips rock up into the touch, the touch and contact, the heat of his skin. He lets his hand slip from his pants, mostly so that he can tug them open, make it easier.

Then Bullseye's pulling him up onto his knees, dragging his pants down his legs so he's exposed, but Francis is more than willing. He leans up a little, blue eyes dark with lust, aching for it. He drags in a rough breath, trembles slightly from the feeling when those fingers rub against him, lube-slick and then sinking into him and he moans low and needy with the feel of it against his mouth.

He's not expecting the third, but it's not complaint, either. Hands catch on the man's shoulders and there's a sharp catch to his breath, but he presses into it, too. It's harsher than the first two, that way he wasn't expecting it quite so fast, but he likes sex a little harsh most of the time, just like he does with everything else, and he can't resist how he rolls his hips against him, and the heat that's almost electric.

Francis' head tips back as lips part and he's instead kissing his collarbone, nips of teeth and suction that leaves red marks on his pale skin. But he doesn't mind; likes the way teeth scrape and how he can feel the marks even after he's found another bit of skin to occupy his attention. He shifts a little, like he's offering more skin, making it easier. His hands shake, teeth biting at his bottom lip as he tries to not make it too obvious, how he's unraveling, aching for it.

[clozapine]

It's easy to get carried away with how much Francis seems to enjoy the way Bullseye does things. He might be an unstable murderer, but when it comes to things like this he enjoys when his partner is completely into it. Maybe it's an ego thing. The older marksman doesn't waste any more time worrying about it because his impatience is at an all time high.

The sounds Francis is making and the way he feels around his fingers has him not wanting to wait any longer to be inside him. His fingers move more quickly than he might go in an ideal situation, but the desperation seems mutual so he pulls them out so he can slick his cock with lube. He catches those lips in a quick kiss again before pushing Francis down on his back, tugging his pants off the rest of the way to throw them aside and settle between his led.

When he pushes in at last he swears under his breath. "Fuck. Put your hands on me." It's more of a demand than a request, and he knows he's still bleeding in some places, but he obviously doesn't care. He nudges himself deeper little by little, slow stabbing motions until he's filled him up, at which point his hips draw back to push in again but less gentle this time. Bullseye repeats the motion and keeps his eyes on Francis to gauge his response.

[knucklesdirty]

Francis likes it a little rough, likes to push lines. So he likes this, the way they touch, how they move together, the fact that Bullseye doesn't act like he's gonna break. He wants this, wants him, wants the heat and the friction, and the way they both have blood on their skin. The way that his fingers move pull rough sounds from his lips, hot pleasure in whimpers and gasps. Even if he knows why he takes his fingers away, it's still an ache.

He leans into the kiss, nipping playfully at his lips as he lets the older man push him down onto the bed. He helps kick off his pants, leaving him naked, all hard and skin flushed. He's only too eager to help him settle between his legs, breath rough with how much he wants it. So when he finally lines up and starts to sink in, he almost forgets how to breathe for a moment. That low moan as his body stretches around him. It might be a demand, but it's not like Francis would have been able to help himself anyway.

He's tactile, touchy even outside of sex with the right person, so like this? He doesn't worry about the blood, how it smears under his hands as he palms his way over Bullseye's skin, against his chest. He sort of likes it; a little tacky as it dries, more slick on the deeper ones. He pushes his cock into Francis inch by inch, pulling heated sounds from the blonde's lips, rough gasps with every drag of slick friction that makes his hips jerk. He pushes back against him, greedy until he's buried all the way.

And then he draws back, and it's not as gentle, but if anything Francis seems to like that even more. The way his body arches, the way he moans at the feeling, hands clutching tighter against skin. He likes it rough, likes it so the friction and the sex are all he can focus on. He likes seeing just how far someone can take him.

[clozapine]

It's been so long since the last time he had the chance to fuck someone he didn't hate. Being swapped out of one chaotic hellscape into another may have worked out to his advantage this time.

His head lowers to hide his groan against Francis' shoulder as he feels the other man's body stretch to accommodate him. Lester swears against the skin, but the sound is muffled. It feels too good to take his time, but from the way those hands are roaming over his body and smearing his blood he doesn't think Francis is that type of guy. He presses on until he's fully sheathed inside him, and begins to pull back to do it again with more force behind it this time until he gradually builds up to a fast pace.

Sure he's in pain from the cuts and the touching isn't helping, but he'd be a liar if that shit didn't turn him on more. "Fuck, you feel good." He groans out the words against the side of Francis' jaw now, nudging his face with his nose as sort of an apology in advance because he's not going easy on him. Lester's movements are aggressive and unrelenting so the sounds of skin meeting skin roughly seem really loud in the otherwise quiet room.

[knucklesdirty]

Honestly, for all the knives and how this is supposed to be some part of Hell, it almost seems like a good thing. Maybe the world they'd decided to stay in could have turned out okay. But Penance still wins out on ever place before it, at least.

Francis' skin is heated, breath gasping low into the air at the way that it feels as Bullseye pushes into him, heat that curls on his skin, sensation that lights up his nerves. Francis trembles, rocking his hips back against him as they finds the pace. It's fast and rough, and the archer's hands cling against him for something to hold on to, as much as because he likes the way his blood feels on his fingertips. And he does. It's a messy sort of thrill, makes the moment that much hotter. He's never been the sort for slow and sweet, never particularly had the opportunity or the occasion, anyway. But especially not now when what he wants most is for the other man to break him a little touch by touch. Until he's overwhelmed and drowning in the pleasure, taken apart in pieces.

The slide of their bodies agitates the cuts they both carry, the pace is almost punishing, and Francis loves it. His head tilting back, moans pulled from his mouth with how those thrusts shove back into him. And fuck, but he likes the praise, even if it's probably just thoughtless sextalk it still hits him hard. His shoulders curl and there's a flicker in his eyes. There's something about being good like this, when he knows that he isn't really good by any metric. Too sharp and too greedy and wrong in all the right ways. But he likes that Lester doesn't go easy, and Francis takes all of that aggression like it's exactly what he wanted.

"Yeah, you feel-- Fuck." He sort of loses the words, the next thrust cutting them into silence as his breath chokes in his throat for a moment. His face tilting in towards Lester, not so much looking for a kiss, but just breath on skin, a nip of teeth. Just to feel a little more.

[clozapine]

There's a little something in the back of his mind that is questioning whether he should be deep-decking Barton's kid. Whether he was around to see it or not. But like most of the other voices he hears he tunes it out. Francis feels good and they share enough in common that he doesn't hate being around him. He doesn't even ask for Lester to take his time or ease up, instead he pushes back against him like he wants more. It's sexy, and he doesn't think he could pull himself away even if he should.

When Francis tries to speak, Lester deliberately thrusts harder to make it difficult for him to get words out, grinning when that succeeds. He doesn't give in for a kiss, just watches the face directly in front of his. Both their eyes are blue, but he doesn't think Francis' are as empty as his own. He still has something there. All of this isn't just a thing he does to fill a void, is it? The marksman lets go of that line of questioning and instead takes the other man's cock into his hand, stroking him leisurely, but mostly just to play with the precum leaking from his tip with his thumb.

"It looks like you wanna come already." Lester says between pants for breath, and his thrusts slow to a steady crawl, a roll of his hips every so often to remind Francis he's still inside him. He sits up on his knees, pulling Francis by the hips so his ass is off the bed and flush against his body, legs in the air. If he continues to move it's only to try to find that spot with the head of his cock that will make it harder for the archer to hold back. "Ahh, there it is. You got really tight just now. I found it, didn't I?"

[knucklesdirty]

Francis is damaged, maybe even broken in places, but he's not empty, not cold. If anything, he's maybe too full of feelings if you catch him right. And so he chokes it down because it's easier, because he doesn't have to feel the weight of loss if he never felt something in the first place. But like this he's unraveled and exposed, and it's easier to tell how affected he is when their faces are tilted in close. No kisses, just breathing the same air as their bodies move together and their eyes meet but don't quite match. The pace is a rough give and take, hard and demanding and the archer craves it.

The man's fingers curl against his cock, smearing the precum as it leaks from his erection, and he moans hot and wanton. For all that there are a lot of things he hides, how much he wants this isn't one of them. So he almost whimpers when the pace of the thrusts slow to almost nothing. It's not enough contact, and not even the almost pleading jerk of his hips can get him more friction.

Their positions shift so he's pressed closer, supported between his body and the bed beneath them and it's giving up a little bit more control. Letting him set the pace, even when Francis wanted more; letting him keep him like this. Just enough sensation to keep him on edge, which was its own sort of torment. He doesn't quite realize what the other man's aiming for until he finds it. But when it does, it hits him so hard he forgets to breathe. Instead it comes out in a sharp exhale, a high moan pulled from his chest almost involuntarily. His body tenses as that spike of pleasure hits him, and it feels almost overwhelming as his blue eyes go wide and unfocused.

"O-oh, that's--" Francis shudders, and his nails are short but they still scratch against skin, holding on like he might just fall apart. He nods to the question, even if it's probably mostly rhetorical, skin flushed lightly pink. "--Please." It takes him a moment to rephrase from just that sentiment of want. "Do that again." His hands dragging down from his shoulders, curling against the small of his back and tugging a little, like he wants him closer. He's greedy, comes alive for pleasure like he does for violence, which makes Bullseye a hell of a drug.

[clozapine]

Once he finds the button that needs to be pushed to drive Francis crazy, Bullseye takes his sweet little time. Enjoying the scrape of nails against his skin, and how tight he gets around his cock to file away for wet dream material later. Waiting until he gets what he needs to keep going.

Hearing the archer begging for it is all it takes for him to continue with renewed vigor in chasing his own release while he hits that same spot over and over to take Francis over the edge with him. His head lowers close enough that he can rest his face against his, nose pressed right up against his jaw as he pounds into him. Bullseye's panting is close enough to the younger man's ear that its easily heard over the sound of sweat-dampened skin slapping together.

His thrusts only get harder when he's close. He swears against skin, pushes in deep, and stays there when his release hits. Two or three more slow but deep pushes of his hips milk him dry as he empties himself inside Francis. Bullseye's hand continues to stroke the archer, even more deliberately now because he has one less thing requiring his attention.

"You feel so good. How long would you let me stay inside you?" He asks quietly. It's not clear whether it's to help Francis get off of if he truly wants to know.