"Yes, master!" The words were uttered so quickly, so suddenly, it was as if they'd already been waiting to leap off his tongue. His tone was more breath than anything, otherwise he may have shouted them instead. But then he had to worry about things like walking and moving, and not tripping over himself, so saying anything further fell by the wayside.
Walking, however, seemed to sober him up slightly. It grounded him, brought him back to reality. What he'd said in the elevator started to play over in his head. What had gotten into him? He was never that forward, never showed his hand like that. But even as anxiety built up, even as he tried to see how it could go wrong or how he could weasel out of it, he couldn't deny how much he still wanted it. Instead of ways out, his mind was drawn toward all of those things that he tried to ignore when he did finally hook up with someone. As long as he ignored them, he wouldn't be quite so disappointed. But some of what Loki had said dragged several things to the front, and suddenly he was thinking about how to get to those rather than how to get out of this.
When they reached his door, he managed to handle his keys better here than at his car. As he shoved the door open, however, he just about stumbled over the threshold just because of what Loki asked. He recovered, more or less gracefully, and flicked on the light inside. Despite the somewhat tattered posters of punk bands on the walls (in frames, at least), the apartment was a lot nicer than Dane's general personality might suggest. Not quite lush, but cozy. It even had a bright red accent wall, of all things.
Dane stepped inside, holding the door for Loki. It seemed to take him a moment to find his voice, before saying somewhat timidly as if suddenly doubting himself. "Come in...master?" He cleared his throat, having lost his confidence from earlier. "The bedroom's...uh..." but his thoughts seemed to bottleneck and he stopped dead. What if he wanted to start right here? Or in the living room? Or was he supposed to call the shots?
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Walking, however, seemed to sober him up slightly. It grounded him, brought him back to reality. What he'd said in the elevator started to play over in his head. What had gotten into him? He was never that forward, never showed his hand like that. But even as anxiety built up, even as he tried to see how it could go wrong or how he could weasel out of it, he couldn't deny how much he still wanted it. Instead of ways out, his mind was drawn toward all of those things that he tried to ignore when he did finally hook up with someone. As long as he ignored them, he wouldn't be quite so disappointed. But some of what Loki had said dragged several things to the front, and suddenly he was thinking about how to get to those rather than how to get out of this.
When they reached his door, he managed to handle his keys better here than at his car. As he shoved the door open, however, he just about stumbled over the threshold just because of what Loki asked. He recovered, more or less gracefully, and flicked on the light inside. Despite the somewhat tattered posters of punk bands on the walls (in frames, at least), the apartment was a lot nicer than Dane's general personality might suggest. Not quite lush, but cozy. It even had a bright red accent wall, of all things.
Dane stepped inside, holding the door for Loki. It seemed to take him a moment to find his voice, before saying somewhat timidly as if suddenly doubting himself. "Come in...master?" He cleared his throat, having lost his confidence from earlier. "The bedroom's...uh..." but his thoughts seemed to bottleneck and he stopped dead. What if he wanted to start right here? Or in the living room? Or was he supposed to call the shots?