a musebox

throwitinabox @ 2023-11-13T00:15:00

2023-11-13T07:27:50Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin sighed and rested his head on Eliot's chest for a moment. "We did it," he murmured. "We're married."

He didn't let himself indulge for long, though, lifting his head sooner than he wanted to. "Um, so I got Huaisang to lie to you," he said, taking Eliot's hand.

They were taking their break in the room Quentin had been using for wedding preparations, which was adjacent and connecting to the room Eliot had used. He'd entrusted Caitlin to help Eliot's surprise get set up once he was out of there, so it was toward that connecting door that Quentin led him.

A man with a lot of tattoos, just riding the edge of tasteful, looked up when they entered and gave them a little smile and wave. He had a rolling chair and was using the side table next to a recliner in the room to set up a metal tray, and several things in sterile paper packages. He turned to pick up a small binder and handed it over to Quentin.

"Um, so," Quentin said quietly. "You keep, um. You keep talking about wanting to mark me permanently." He opened the binder to the first page, which was a generic line drawing of a human body that had had several spots circled in red. Forearms, chest, lower back, thighs, and each ring finger had a red circle. There was a red circle around nape of neck too, and a red X over front of neck, as well as X's over the backs of hands and feet.

"So here are your options," Quentin said, then turned another page. "And here's what you can choose from."

The rest of the book was flash of various tattoo designs. A lot of it was various symbols of ownership, but there were more neutral designs, too. One page had several long, narrow, repeating patterns, obviously meant to go around a finger.

(Although honestly, Quentin was hoping for something a little better than a ring.)

"We should be able to get any of these done in an hour," the artist added, nodding toward the book. "But if you don't want to be late to your party, we can finish in my shop later if needed."

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throwitinabox @ 2023-02-27T12:33:00

2023-02-27T19:38:06Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

It was overwhelming, the amount of information that just fell into Quentin's head. Or...it should have been. He was reeling, a little, but also felt...calm? Like he'd gone right through overwhelm and circle back around. It was too much, it had broken the meter, he just...all he could do was look at all of it.

"We had a pup," he murmured, and only then looked over at Eliot. "And you..." He looked away again, fingers coming up to touch his throat, where his scar had been. He had a faint memory of being at the market and craning his neck up above the high collar of his shirt, trying to show off a fresh bite without looking like he was showing it off. That had happened, right? He was pretty sure it happened.

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throwitinabox @ 2023-02-21T23:34:00

2023-02-22T10:33:44Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin was sweating and shivering at the same time. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the lock on his door, trying to get it shut behind him. Fuck it, it didn't matter, his clothes all felt too heavy, his hoodie could have been ten pounds. He dropped his bag with a thump and started stripping, hurried and ungraceful. He needed to be in bed, he needed, god, he needed a fucking knot.

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throwitinabox @ 2023-02-05T11:41:00

2023-02-05T18:59:12Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin didn't do particularly well with mornings, but a slave was expected to be a slave all the time, not just when it suited them. So he was generally pretty good at showing up on time to homeroom and being found kneeling at his spot when the bell rang. Anyway, it gave him an excuse to avoid trying to socialize with the other students -- they all knew he was a little more quiet than usual in the mornings, so people usually didn't give him any shit about going directly to his seat. A pack of Sapphires might find an excuse to pick at him for it, but this was an Amber homeroom, students who'd worked hard enough to be ready to graduate or chosen for special attention. No one wanted to risk fucking up now and getting demoted to Topaz or even Emerald.

So Quentin waited, quiet and obedient, letting himself get into the right headspace to approach his day. He only looked up when he heard the click of Professor Freyja's signature footwear.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-11-23T04:14:00

2022-11-23T10:28:44Z

Posted by: frkzingnoobs

In his office once again, Ed's fingers pinched his nose as he leaned back in his chair, head resting against his Ruby's tits. A problem had come across his desk: Three days ago, Orla had been caught masturbating and put into a belt for a week by one of the other teachers. That much was normal, but what wasn't normal was that it'd taken him three goddamn days to hear about it. He'd made sure the entire faculty knew to send him information immediately; and while he couldn't punish another member of the faculty directly, well...

He'd consider that later. More to the point, Orla wasn't a standard body type, so Ed had a number of worries—he knew only too well the sorts of problems that can come from mis-sized gear, and so it seemed a good idea to check up on her.

So it was that he waited in his office for her to arrive so he could inspect her punishment.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-11-22T22:50:00

2022-11-23T06:51:15Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

It wasn't actually their wedding night. They'd fucked at the actual wedding, but by the time they got done with all the festivities, they were both bone-tired, and as horny as Quentin was, they just looked at each other and mutually agreed that tomorrow could be the wedding night. They spent a couple of hours traveling (magic was great for cutting time down like that) and then settling into their accommodations for their honeymoon and getting cleaned up.

Now, it was late afternoon, they were officially married and on their honeymoon, and it was unofficially their wedding night. Quentin stepped up close to Eliot in just a towel, taking his husband's hand to bring their rings together, feeling the slight click of metal against metal. His breathing was already coming in a little faster, thinking of what Eliot was about to do to him.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-11-02T00:01:00

2022-11-02T06:07:03Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

This was gonna work. He'd finally figured out the ritual, it was more complicated than most of the spells and potions he did but that was okay, he was smart and could do hard things. The panel of master magicians before him were not helping to soothe his anxiety but that was also okay, he'd memorized this so well, practiced the individual parts, that he could do it in his sleep.

So Quentin exhaled and shook out his hands, standing at the edge of the altar. He nodded to someone at the side of the room, who dropped the Brakebills wards so a demon could be summoned without being blocked. Normally, the wards prevented this kind of thing, but for a student to be proving their summoning abilities, the magical wards were dismantled and teachers put on guard to make sure there were no other incursions. They had everything safe and figured out.

"Begin," called out the dean.

Quentin exhaled one more time, then began to chant. He splashed wine onto a mirror in sacrifice, then picked it up and leaned it against the altar. This was going to be the doorway through which the thing entered. Still chanting the binding spell, Quentin cut his finger and began to draw the symbols on the mirror, voice wavering when they flared with light. Holy shit, it was working, he was actually doing it.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-10-04T04:20:00

2022-10-04T10:28:50Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

This was gonna work. He'd finally figured out the ritual properly, it was more complicated than most of the spells and potions he did but that was okay, he was smart and could do hard things. He didn't know why he so specifically had to wear a robe with nothing under it, but it was probably about, like...freeing your mind, maybe? Freedom of body leading to an unrestrained mind? Right? That made sense. As much sense as magic ever made, anyway. Surely that was all it was.

So Quentin exhaled and shook out his hands, kneeling at the edge of the circle. Okay, it was the first night of the full moon. Ninety-seven percent waxing gibbous, or whatever the fuck. Magically, in folklore, the full moon was three nights. He checked the book open at his side one more time, even though he was confident he'd memorized it, and started the chant.

Ribbon, for binding. Dagger, for a small blood sacrifice (back of his wrist, obviously, who the fuck would cut their palm?). Chalice, to receive it. The circle of candles, unlit, to flare to life when the magic started working. A bell, to create vibrations. Quentin picked up the first of his tools and began.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-10-04T04:02:00

2022-10-04T10:20:14Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Okay, so like, this probably wasn't even a big deal, right? So it was their third, like, official date. It was probably like their eleventh date, if one counted unofficial hangouts, coming over for Netflix and chill (and that did end up actually being Netflixing something cool and discussing its merits just as often as it was a euphemism). They'd even had meals, Quentin was struggling to figure out the vegan thing but he'd accomplished something with rice and beans that seemed to go over well.

Maybe that was why it was weird. Quentin had never dated someone who he lived so close to, making it easy to like, casually hang out as friends alongside formal dating. Even if those casual friend hangouts frequently ended in blowjobs. Maybe that was why it was weird, they'd done mouth and hand stuff but hadn't actually had sex or like, gotten into kink or anything yet. Okay, Steven seemed like he probably thought pulling Quentin's hair a little and telling him he was a good boy was kinky, but that wasn't even a blip on Quentin's radar.

So he was quiet as Steven hit the button for his floor instead of Quentin's, biting his lip. So, he wanted to say, end of our third date, but he had enough sense to know that would be stupid. "I still think you're wrong about Jason Momoa," he said instead.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-09-18T04:29:00

2022-09-18T10:32:23Z

Posted by: frkzingnoobs

The day after Orla's stint at the public facility, Ed looked over the report of Orla's activities on Friday. Six hours in was a lot for any Sapphire, amateurs simply couldn't hold on for that long against the relative lack of skill the paying public had. To say the least, it was impressive. To say more, it was precisely what he was thinking he'd see.

And, in a stroke of either luck or providence, Ed hadn't heard anything about Orla causing any more problems. Clearly another reward was in order. Something special. The girl was working so hard for carrots, after all, and he should provide.

Ed's Ruby came to see her after class. With a "Master Ed is summoning you. Come with me." and a grab of Orla's hand, she led the girl towards a different part of the school grounds—towards the section with the private rooms teachers used for 1 on 1 instruction.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-09-15T13:02:00

2022-09-15T19:54:03Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

When Eliot came in, he wasn't going to be tackled like he seemed to have been expecting. Indeed, Quentin was nowhere to be seen. The kitchen and living room were empty, though there was a bit of a wet spot on the couch where Quentin had cleaned something up.

Quentin turned out to be in the bedroom, facedown under the covers. He was sleeping peacefully, though if Eliot peered far enough under the sheets, he was naked. There had been lube on his skin, too, between his cheeks, though it was mostly dried out now.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-09-08T16:36:00

2022-09-08T22:36:29Z

Posted by: starryeye

God this was boring. Professor Leander was trying to like, patiently explain to her why she should be a good little girl and he didn't appear to be getting that she didn't fucking care. This school was bullshit. Classes were bullshit. Teachers were bullshit. She was starting her junior year and she already had a plan for after graduation, why wasn't that enough?

"Have you considered that the uniform standards are fucking stupid?" she asked, perching her chin against a fist, elbow propped on the arm of the chair. "You can't actually make me stop wearing a choker, it's just jewelry and it's explicitly allowed," she said, knowing full well that the thing on her neck was a bondage collar. Slim, more cat collar than dog, but not particularly subtle.

Actually, maybe she should have some fun. "You know, the only way you could think otherwise is if you go around putting collars on people. Is that it, professor?" she asked with a grin, lifting her head and leaning forward a little. She'd hit upon a way to entertain herself and was eating it up with a spoon. "You can't teach class," she said, reaching up to hook a finger in the ring on the front, "cause you just can't stop thinking about slapping a leash on me and leading me to your dick?"

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throwitinabox @ 2022-09-05T03:56:00

2022-09-05T10:05:32Z

Posted by: starryeye

"Here," Orla said, handing her lipstick over to the girl at her side, a tall Sapphire with dark hair. "Let's write it on his ass. 'Breeder slut.'"

It was a little hilarious for Orla Rhatigan to be bullying someone else over not being able to keep their hands off themself. Everyone in the school knew she was barely keeping her head above water to not get clapped in these stocks herself, constantly caught touching herself in the halls or during bed checks. That was part of the power move, wasn't it? I can do it and get away with it, but you? You're less than me, so you, we're gonna punish. It was calculated, like most things Orla did. That was a nonzero part of how exactly she was getting away with it with only slaps on the wrist. Toothpaste on her clit was nothing, a pleasant tingle to distract from the absurd tedium of math class.

"What do you think, ladies?" she asked, red braid swinging as she raised her voice a little and turned toward the rest of her group. Simple black sunglasses hid her eyes, reminding some of these dick-brained morons of her disability, and the one non-uniform thing she had specific permission to wear. She'd been able to argue that marking herself out as blind was a medical function as important as another girl's prescription glasses. "Does he need any more reminders? Maybe we'll go for the classic, 'slut' across his forehead. Dick pointing to his mouth, maybe?"

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throwitinabox @ 2022-08-15T19:21:00

2022-08-16T01:40:38Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin had gotten a reasonable amount of the nest done before, so it didn't take him too long to finish it. He did text Cass to bring back some more clothes with scent, especially after having stolen his shirt back from the nest. It still smelled a little like him, but not enough, not enough, he still felt unsettled and lonely in it as he crawled in. But he did crawl in once it was finished, pulling his thick blanket over himself and resting, phone next to him on the pillow.

He managed to doze for a little while, but he was woken by feeling chilly, even under his blanket. He tucked himself in tighter and picked up his phone.

Next wave starting, he texted Cass, and then crawled to the edge. He made himself get out of his nest just for a moment. No way was Cass close enough to being back that he'd beat the wave here, so Quentin opened the drawer of his night stand and pulled out a couple of options for aids before scurrying back in.

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open texting post

2022-08-03T21:06:37Z

Posted by: shockvaluecola

because the old one was from like 2015

idk man it's a fuckin open texting post it's not that hard

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throwitinabox @ 2022-08-01T00:21:00

2022-08-01T06:22:17Z

Posted by: starryeye

you: a man in a suit. reasonably strong. fit. commanding presence, but not actively an asshole. sexually experienced. me: a woman in lingerie. short, slight, red hair. takes no shit, but tired of being in control. less experienced with men. the plan: we meet in a hotel room. we fuck. we go our separate ways. more specific details to be discussed with respondents. do not ask for: threesomes or more, bathroom play, roughness, anything else i say is off the table when we discuss. please do tell me if my ideas inspire any thoughts you think would interest me, but be willing to drop the subject if i say no. this should not be a difficult set of requirements, but contact me and let's see.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-07-30T02:45:00

2022-07-30T09:09:22Z

Posted by: baseness

There was an odd duality to the wedding customs his nobles had decided on. The king and his consort were to be left alone, given no official duties for the two weeks following their wedding. In practical terms, that wasn't actually happening, but Seg could see that only matters of real urgency were being brought to him. On the other hand, they had separate apartments. They'd both slept in Seg's bed the night of the wedding, his sheets inspected for the "proof" of consummation (bless Vi and her forward-thinking, slipping him that vial of something thick and sticky and sweet-smelling so they could just sleep). The two nights since, Robert had slept in his own bed, so he'd only actually seen Seg without his braces once, with only one candle in the room.

But now it was daylight, and Seg stood by his unmade bed -- servants had not been allowed in yet, only permitted to bring food and then leave -- with his hands on his hips and a furrow between his eyebrows. He'd strapped himself into his braces, over a simple shirt and pair of breeches. Normally they'd be underneath, but this was more practical for the moment.

He and his new husband had gotten in plenty of touching. They'd brought each other off with hands down breeches, by rutting against legs, always with mouths attached like the other was air and Seg's braces firmly in place. But Seg could feel the beginnings of rut coming, and they really ought to figure this out before he became half-feral and useless. The agreement was to not actively try to have sex today, hence the breeches (Seg rather doubted they were going to stick to this), but he had to be open to the possibility that there was going to be no comfortable position with braces involved, and prepared to take them off.

He was not particularly enjoying the feeling this put in his stomach. He had no care to examine its source or component parts, either.

The Kingsguard knew not to let anyone inside except the prince-consort or the princess, and the latter only in emergencies, so when he heard the door open, he turned with a hopeful look. He smiled to see Robert. "My love," he said, reaching out a hand for him.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-07-13T20:08:00

2022-07-14T02:38:30Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin had been antsy all day. Irritable. Edgy. Downright unpleasant, at some points.

This happened sometimes, right? It was the depression, or something. The anxiety maybe. He was never free of it these days, not really, perpetually scared of losing his place at Brakebills, sure he needed to prove he belonged. Who wouldn't be? Quentin was used to being one of the smartest people in pretty much any room he walked into, but everyone at Brakebills was that smart. He constantly felt like he was hitting somewhere just below average, and being an omega didn't help. You couldn't, like, say it out loud these days, but every omega with more than a high school education had, at some point, faced someone giving them the side-eye for bothering.

Stupid. There were literally omega professors at Brakebills. But he couldn't shake the nerves.

So anyone who might be looking for him, perhaps after getting snapped at in class that day, would find him studying in his room in the Cottage. He supported the book he was reading with one hand, practicing a spell with the other. He wasn't doing it properly, just running himself through the hand motion until it was muscle memory. Was his shirt kind of hot and itchy? He rolled his shoulders and stopped thinking about it.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-07-01T15:43:00

2022-07-01T21:46:17Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin was in the town, putting around the bazaar, when he saw him. Recognition wasn't immediate -- at first, it was simply because Nickov was eye-catching. But then, the skin tone...the height...the shapes that formed his legs and feet...Quentin realized this had to be the wall guy, or at least someone like him. He made sure to drift closer, until he caught the man's voice and yes, he was almost sure of it now.

He was picking along, not really seeing anything he looked at, trying to come up with a strategy, when he nearly bumped right into the tall alien. They were at the same table now. "Oh- hey. Hi. Um."

Was his voice as burned into this man's memory as his was into Quentin's? "Hi," he said again. "Sorry." For what? Who knew?

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throwitinabox @ 2022-04-13T01:35:00

2022-04-13T07:55:13Z

Posted by: baseness

Segoriel didn't write back, because Robert would be here soon enough, in a matter of days. It was long enough for anxiety to kick in. It was obvious that Robert's memory had been kind to him -- what if he didn't remember the full extent of Seg's scars, his disabilities? In a letter, he was as hale as another man, but not so in person. And there were niceties expected when meeting another regnant king, which was a problem he hadn't faced in public in some time.

He felt like a coward for it. But when Robert's retinue finally arrived, it was Seg's sister who greeted him, Princess Vianola. No insult was this, for the king's closest family member and current heir to the throne to be receiving someone, it just...put a little padding between Seg and the bad parts. Many a dignitary had found it easy to forget their disappointment, anyway, being greeted by such a bright, happy smile on such a pretty young woman. She was dark of hair and light of eye like her brother, her dress warm and practical for the late winter weather but still of courtly fashion. She curtsied deeply, well-trained in courtly manners, then took Robert's hands and leaned in for a familial touch of cheeks.

"He can't bow in public," Vianola whispered while they were there. "We're going to see him right now."

The smile was back in place as she withdrew. "It is my great honor and pleasure to welcome you to our home, King Robert," she said, projecting her voice a little so the nobles gathered around could hear her giving the proper greetings. "I so look forward to getting to know you better, and hope to be a sister of your heart as well as law."

She turned, then, shifting her hand to the crook of his elbow while the other gestured to the castle. "You must be tired from your journey. Won't you join me inside?"

The servants heard the cue and silently moved into action, Robert's staff beginning to unload luggage from the carriages for the castle staff to bring inside. Meanwhile, the nobles began to move in, greeting other high-status members of Robert's traveling party or moving toward the castle.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-03-20T19:02:00

2022-03-21T01:09:54Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin could walk on his own, so he didn't need help getting to the baths after his patron. But he went the other way at first, glancing around before he grabbed Leo's arm, then going up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

"Come see me after your shift ends. Wake me up if I'm asleep."

He dared a quick kiss to Leo's cheek, then was away to clean up.

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throwitinabox @ 2022-03-20T03:37:00

2022-03-20T20:53:57Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

"Quentin," the Dowayne said as he entered, quietly shutting the door behind him. "How wonderful to see you. You do look so well in that outfit."

Quentin was dressed for an evening in the parlors tonight, being healed enough to take a patron, but not healed enough to be featured. Any visitor could pick him out, but mostly, he was to be decorative. Instead of a silk dressing gown, he was in the robes of a beginning scholar: hair pulled into a pullable tail, legs covered with loose, easily-removed breeches, and on top, a wrapped robe that would peek open to expose his chest, all in a grey to suggest Shemhazai's domain without actually trespassing upon sacred imagery.

He knelt and bowed to the floor without speaking, the show of submission that suited a Valerian adept who was approaching authority. Ragonde indicated that Quentin could stand, and only then did he speak.

"Thank you, my lord. I feel as though I'll be too old for it soon," he said with a little smile, approaching the Dowayne's sitting area. He paused by a chair to be invited, and sat when Ragonde gestured to it.

"You may feel such, but you stopped looking like a schoolboy physically some years ago," he observed, tone conversational. "We still put you in the outfit because you carry it with your mannerisms, your voice, your...sweetness. Yes?"

Being referred to such ways made Quentin blush, but he still had a small smile. "That is so, it seems, sir," he agreed.

"But you did not come here for compliments. Tell me how I can help you, my young friend."

The Dowayne of Valerian house had been new at Quentin's Choosing, but as Quentin had grown for the last fourteen years, so had he. Quentin would never voice it, but he felt somewhat of a kinship, having begun his life at Valerian house so soon after Ragonde had begun life as its Dowayne. He was a tall, wiry man with fair hair, his body only just beginning to soften with age. Outsiders often found him closed off or overly meek, but among his own, he was warm and kind.

"I- hmm." Quentin rubbed his lips together, rubbed his hands over his thighs. "I- well. Adep-" He stopped mid-word to hum. Ragonde reached out to touch the arm of the chair Quentin was in, knowing after fourteen years that touching him might only rob him of his words further.

"Would tea make this easier?"

Quentin bit his lip and shook his head, but Ragonde got up anyway. That, actually, was what made it easier, having the Dowayne not looking at him.

"Adepts are permitted to...to perform the...to perform any acts they wish with anyone they wish, patron or otherwise, yes?"

"Yes," Ragonde confirmed, his back to Quentin as he filled a kettle from a jug. "Though caution is advised, or an adept might find their patrons drying up, and be reduced to some other way to pay their marque."

"Of course," Quentin agreed.

"But Elua commands that we love as we will," the Dowayne continued. "Not as our foster-houses would will for us. We can demand that you repay your marque, but no more." He placed the kettle on the coals of his fireplace. "If an adept should choose to never take another patron and pay off their marque in the House's kitchen...well, I'm not entirely certain they could do it in their natural lifespan, but that option is open to them."

"Right," Quentin said. "And..." He pressed his lips together again. "And does such a...such freedom extend to...to those in the House's employ, but not bound to it?"

The Dowayne paused in his movements, shaking slightly. Quentin was alarmed, until he realized the Dowayne was laughing. "I'm sorry, my boy." He cleared his throat. "Quentin, my dear Q, why don't you simply ask me what you want to ask?"

Quentin sighed in consternation as the kettle whistled. "When in my life have I been able to simply ask?"

"True," the Dowayne agreed, pouring into two cups. "But I imagine we could finish this conversation quite a bit faster."

Quentin sighed again and ran a hand over his hair, but tried for it. "Say...hypothetically," he began, and ignored the Dowayne's undignified snort. "Say an adept slept with..." Don't say a guard. Say... "A stable boy. Or a kitchen maid. Would that kitchen maid be in trouble?"

"The adept wished to sleep with them?"

He blushed, and nodded, and just avoided saying 'very much so.' "Yes."

"And the kitchen maid did not neglect her work for this? Or at least, she completed her work in time?"

Harder to answer, less comparable to a guard. Quentin considered a moment. "She was a little late completing it," he decided, "but it got done. There weren't too many dishes to do." It hadn't been a busy afternoon.

"Then at least after this one encounter, her employment is safe," Ragonde said, sitting back down and setting two cups on the table between them. "Whether it remains so depends upon the first two questions after each encounter, and whether her love for this adept will drive her to distraction. Though even if it did, one might note that having been in the employ of any House of the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers would be enough to secure her a job nearly anywhere else she wished to work. Especially if that house was Valerian."

Quentin frowned in confusion. "Especially?"

"Known for our clean dishes, we are."

The frown smoothed out. "We were seen."

Ragonde's face was a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Were you trying to hide it? You holed up in your room for nearly two hours."

Quentin rubbed a hand over his hair again. He was going to have to fix it. "I promised him I wouldn't name him, when I talked to you."

Ragonde waved it away with a flip of his hand. "You think I rose to the top of Valerian house by flapping my gums? As I said, your paramour's employment is safe, for now."

That wasn't reassuring. He sighed. "For now," he repeated.

The Dowayne sipped his tea. "Of course I cannot predict the future. Perhaps a month from now you will wish him gone, and it's likely the House would cave to that desire, rather than attempt the hassle of keeping him away from you. An adept about to begin their finial far outranks a guard in importance, but the expense of hiring a new guard, should it prove difficult, could be added to your marque."

Quentin was distracted a moment. "I'm about to begin my finial?"

Ragonde looked amused again. "You truly do not look into that basket of yours, do you?" While Quentin was trying to process this, he spoke again. "I would be surprised if it isn't begun at your next visit to the marquist, and shocked if not the one after that. In perhaps a year or two, you will no longer be an adept, but a full Servant of Naamah. At which time, I must point out, you would be fully free to do as you please, with your love or otherwise."

Quentin heard the message. He could avoid all of these potential pitfalls if he just waited. But the thought of not feeling Leo's touch again for two years...

"No, I didn't think so," Ragonde said, looking amused again. "There is the other option, where he, a guard of Valerian House, takes employment somewhere else in the City of Elua. Also rather a safe option."

"But we'd have to make much more effort to see each other," Quentin said. "Possibly losing entire days to it, depending where he went."

"Likely," Ragonde agreed. "As is the nature of our house, you do and would have plenty of downtime for such arrangements, but he may not."

Quentin pulled his feet up onto the chair, bringing his knees up to his chest. "And he's...allowed, when he's not on duty."

"He should keep out of sight, as any off-duty adept would, but yes. That said," he raised a finger, "are you entirely confident he can be here, knowing that others are touching you, sometimes doing violence to you just steps away from him, and he can do nothing unless you give your signale? Are you entirely confident you won't give it just because you wish he were touching you instead?"

Quentin bit his lip, considering. These were real concerns, valid questions to know the answers to before embarking on this...affair, whatever the nature of it would be. "I don't know," he said honestly.

"It's good that you know you're unsure," Ragonde said. He put down his tea, and his expression was sympathetic. "You are in a complicated situation, my young friend. I do not envy you."

Quentin rubbed his palms over his knees again. "I mean...if he wants...if he wants me in any, any real way, he's always going to have to...find a way to accept that I am a Servant of Naamah. I don't intend to be anything else," he said, looking over at Ragonde. "I know, I know hearts change, but." He pressed his lips together. "I...love this? I believe in it. It..." He shook his head. "I can't imagine doing anything else. So if he loves me, he has to love that part of me, too," he concluded. "I am a Servant of Naamah and he must love me as one."

Ragonde nodded, but didn't speak.

Quentin nodded back, looking back down at the tea. "And yes, probably, sometimes, with the harder patrons, I'll wish it was him. But I still love being with patrons, and I still believe in Naamah's endurance, her dignity in yielding. And eventually he will be off duty, and the patron will leave, and he can come into my room."

"That could be hard on him," Ragonde pointed out. "Seeing you like that."

"I know. But he's seen me in...in poor condition before, sometimes he's helped me in the bath. I think at least some of those times, he...felt for me the same as he does now." Quentin sighed. "That's enough to at least try, isn't it? Of course, so much could go wrong. What part of life has nothing that could go wrong?" he asked, looking up at Ragonde in earnestness. "Something could always go wrong, but it could go right, too, and I'll never find out if I don't try."

Ragonde was smiling softly at him, such affection in his eyes that Quentin wanted to flinch from it. "You're right, my dear," he said. "You'll never find out if you don't try. The House won't stop you. I just want you to understand clearly what the House will put a stop to, and the potential consequences to something going wrong."

Quentin nodded. "If it interferes with either of our duties, the House will fire him, and I could have trouble getting enough patrons to finish my marque, which could also increase for the expense." Quentin had to take a deep breath -- he was beginning to itch for his independence, so a delay in his marque was a significant deterrent. "If he were fired, he would have to find work elsewhere, and then it would be very hard to see each other. Our...our relationship could fail for any number of reasons, related or unrelated to my own duties, and that would make any of these other complications worse." He rubbed his lips together again. "Did I miss anything?"

"You've got the broad strokes, at least. You might also fear accusations of favoritism, either you to him or him to you, but that would fall under the same concerns of neglecting your work."

"Accusations," Quentin said. "You're not concerned about actual favoritism?"

Ragonde shrugged. "Being in love isn't favoritism, in the sense that anyone could blame you for it, if they understood the nature of them. I simply believe that your feelings are true; others may not."

But having the Dowayne's belief on their side would mean a great deal, if this became a problem. Quentin didn't need it voiced to know it.

He stood, his tea untouched, and knelt to bow again. Ragonde let him rise, and he turned to leave.

"Quentin," he said, when Quentin's hand was on the door handle.

He turned back, a question in his eyes.

"You still didn't name him."

Quentin's mouth twitched a little. "As the Dowayne of my House, I should tell you that I am in love with Leo, a guard, and I mean to love him for quite some time. This won't affect my duties."

"Then may Elua's blessings fall upon you bountifully, dear boy."

comments

throwitinabox @ 2022-03-20T03:03:00

2022-03-20T09:09:03Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

[from here]

Quentin had asked if he wanted to bang, so that was what Quentin intended to happen, but right now he was focused on getting a closer acquaintance with that dick. Impressively sized, just waiting for Quentin to learn all its secrets. Or whatever.

He gave a licking, openmouthed kiss to the side of it when he got close enough, saying hello to it, then tongued at the head. This was clearly not his first rodeo with a dick.

comments

throwitinabox @ 2022-03-16T03:31:00

2022-03-16T09:34:21Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

Quentin, to be clear, was perfectly happy to stay in the hotel room. The hotel room had Netflix and room service and lube. But he wasn't, like, against going out, maybe seeing some stuff or eating some food. Or whatever they were doing. Quentin had simply been instructed, a little while ago, to get dressed to go out.

"Do I get to know where we're going yet?" he asked, putting his hair into a bun in the bathroom, a couple of bobby pins held in his teeth -- yes, he was being very fancy and doing an actual bun with pins.

comments

throwitinabox @ 2022-02-20T19:36:00

2022-02-21T02:42:35Z

Posted by: proofofconcept

"Oh, hi!"

Quentin greeted his Good Friend Leo with a smile. He was in a good mood -- he was healed enough from his last assignation that he wasn't in constant discomfort, but he didn't have to take a patron until the day after tomorrow. Out of respect, he would move more through the back hallways than the places in the house where patrons might be seen, but there were a few places where the two intersected and Quentin might see guards.

He also couldn't help noticing that Leo was holding something hidden. "What's that?"

comments