Dane Jonson | River City (
thatsmyjonson) wrote2017-10-17 08:29 pm
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NSFW: Chance Meeting...
The red flags should have been obvious. In fact, they weren't even flags, they were glaring, screaming warning sirens. And yet Dane still ignored them. The first warning was that the guy actually wanted to go somewhere with him. The second was in some of the things the guy said. And the third, he wanted to go somewhere with Dane right now. He didn't have much luck like this, for a very good reason. Dane so often set up himself up for failure that at most he'd get a little action in the cramped bathroom before they never spoke to each other again. And that was if he was really, really lucky, and the other person was really, really desperate.
But sitting at that bar, with this good looking guy so focused on him, he couldn't help himself. Maybe it was the alcohol, but every little touch to his arm felt absolutely electric. His heart raced with every tiny touch, making it hard to think. Well, it was making a lot of things hard, but that was kind of the point. Even when he panicked and made a lewd comment about just how skilled the guy's mouth must be, he stayed. It was going well, too well.
Just when he was starting to worry about the struggle to keep his hands from going places they really shouldn't in such a a public place, the other guy suggested they leave together. Dane thought he might fall off his stool. But there he was, stepping into the crisp night air with basically a stranger, going god knows where. The uncertainty of it all terrified him, it made him want it more. Were they going to some lavish penthouse somewhere, or was the guy going to slam him against a wall and have his way with him? It made his heart thunder in his chest.
"Your car or mine?" he asked, holding up his car keys.
But sitting at that bar, with this good looking guy so focused on him, he couldn't help himself. Maybe it was the alcohol, but every little touch to his arm felt absolutely electric. His heart raced with every tiny touch, making it hard to think. Well, it was making a lot of things hard, but that was kind of the point. Even when he panicked and made a lewd comment about just how skilled the guy's mouth must be, he stayed. It was going well, too well.
Just when he was starting to worry about the struggle to keep his hands from going places they really shouldn't in such a a public place, the other guy suggested they leave together. Dane thought he might fall off his stool. But there he was, stepping into the crisp night air with basically a stranger, going god knows where. The uncertainty of it all terrified him, it made him want it more. Were they going to some lavish penthouse somewhere, or was the guy going to slam him against a wall and have his way with him? It made his heart thunder in his chest.
"Your car or mine?" he asked, holding up his car keys.
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"I think you should kneel," he says, tone still conversational, but the suggestion heavier than he's let himself get so far. Now they're alone, and he can be sure there's nothing literally up Dane's sleeve, subtlety can be put aside a little more. "And then- perhaps if you're apologetic enough, this doesn't have to go any further."
He looks down at his nails, letting the small illusions he's been keeping up fade. Not many, just enough to make the green of his eyes a little duller, hide the fact his nails are naturally black, but now he doesn't need them either. Only after a moment does he look back up, when he's sure he's made his point on Dane's relative importance right now. "Or are you the kind of person who'd rather see how far I'm willing to go, Dane?"
no subject
Then came that command. Kneel. He practically dropped to his knees from standing, the softest moan escaping his lips. It shouldn't have excited him so much. This man...this god before him could be planning to do any number of horrible things to him. And yet he felt his cheeks flushing as arousal crept up through him. His imagination had so often entertained fantasies about all that magic could accomplish, but it had always been pure fiction. And here it was.
His chest rose and fell, visibly, fighting down the urge to apologize, just because he was told he should. When Loki spoke again, he had an out. A sly sort of smile crept onto his face. "Why should I apologize?" He asked, sounding as cocky as he could manage. "I'm not sorry." Trying so hard to communicate that he did truly and honestly want Loki to go as far as his heart desired. There was something rather poetic in it, sacrificing himself to a god.