Test Drive Meme: The Overflow, Part Deux!

[arielmods]

CITY OF ARIEL: THE TEST DRIVE THE OVERFLOW, PART DEUX! Since the last post is again fast approaching 3k comments and getting laggy for some of our players, we have decided to go ahead and stick up the overflow post, even though there's just a little over a week to game start. Please continue your threads or start new ones here if you'd like. To make this easier on those continuing threads from the last meme, here's a handy form: <small>(<a href="THREAD URL HERE">Continued from here.</a>) between <user name="CHARACTER 1"> & <user name="CHARACTER 2"></small> Response here! Please remember to let your thread partners know you've bumped your threads over here as well! We started the meme early to give you plenty of room to do just that. ◆◆◆◆ With the City of Ariel grand opening only a month away, we are holding our first ever test drive meme. Tag in and see how your character would settle in the game. You're a fresh face in the city, newly processed, and arriving at a bustling time. The city is expanding and you are greeted first in the re-education center by your helpful counselors and then directed out of the building to a large festival. Be puzzled, make friends, have sex, or whatever you want! There are no restrictions on thread types played out here. Your first awareness that something has gone wrong comes during a groggy moment of semi-lucidity when you look around yourself and find that -- instead of wherever you remember being last -- you're in a chair, in a room with a man you don't recognize. He's sitting behind a desk whistling to himself and sorting paperwork. The whole atmosphere might remind you of a high school guidance counselor's office, only with far more comfortable chairs. When your head clears enough to speak and you ask him where you are, he smiles brightly and says, "Welcome to the City of Ariel." You were brought to Ariel during a very special time! There's a large festival going on celebrating the new expansions to the city and everything is decked out for it. Everything is bustling and vibrant in the city today because of the celebrations. There are decorations up, food vendors set up all along the streets, kissing booths, games, and just about anything else you can imagine an event like this would have! The people of Ariel are out and about as well, some are in vibrant costumes and others are just checking out the sights. Some of the more exhibitionist types are even having a little more fun out in public than you may be used to seeing back home. As soon as the grogginess from your arrival passes, you are allowed to leave the re-education center and see it all for yourself. Upon exiting, you are even handed beads of various colors, several of each so you don't worry about running out. Each color has a special meaning listed below: pink - toys blue - oral yellow - watersports green - age play lavender - crossdressing orange - multiples grey - bondage white - hands (mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob) red - blood black - wildcard These are to aid you in making a connection with others. Show your interest in others and tell them exactly what you would like to do with them by sharing the beads. If you would rather take a different approach, feel free to walk around the festival and see what (or who) catches your eye. The point is to relax and get settled in your new home.
TAG IN - Post your character's name, canon, and preferences. - Set up an opener in your comment or leave it blank. - Tag around and have fun!	USEFUL LINKS: [Premise] [Rules] [F.A.Q.] [Locations] [Local Citizens (NPC)] [Taken] [Wanted] [Reserves] [Application] [Main] [Logs] [OOC]

Please note that all CR in this meme can be carried over when the game starts between characters that are accepted into the game.

Threads can also count towards third and first person samples on the application, just provide links.

Take a look at our OOC Meet and Greet post! Meet. Greet. Make friends. Have fun!

Comments

[halfassed]

When Clint does, it honestly takes him by surprise. He felt it building, but he'd expected him to have trouble focusing, trouble shutting out the world; instead, it feels as though Thor hit something brittle inside him, something that feels like a barrier that will last forever right up until it shatters. He just breaks, feels it in his whole body, shoots onto his own chest.

For a half-second, he really does let go, his body dipping into a much-needed surrender. It feels wonderful, like a rush of cool water over burned skin. He didn't even realize how much he missed it.

[beworthy]

He kisses him through, feeling the jerk and shudder of the man's body and the slickness of his seed between them. A well-deserved release, and it pleases him to be the one who brought him to it, at least for this night; Thor smiles, and presses his mouth in lingering kisses to the underside of Clint's jaw, moving steadily though not brutally within him all the while: he is not ready yet to let go himself, the heat is a low burning now, a glow of embers within him, hot but steady. Soon enough it will flare and consume itself, but until then he will have Barton as long as he likes, if the man is amenable.

He goes still after a time, buried deep within him, drawing back to look at him laid upon his back with the marks of pleasure spilled extravagantly upon him; and Thor braces himself on one hand against the mattress, and with the other takes Clint's chin, gentle and firm, and turns his gaze to him. "You are well?" he asks him, a smile lingering faintly at his lips. "Would you have more?"

[halfassed]

He wants nothing more than to be able to spool up his defensiveness again. Lock himself up, nevermind that Thor just fucked him through the best orgasm he's had in months, nevermind that he chose this freely and enjoyed it well.

He winces, his own body gripping a little too tight. Just -- soreness. Reflex.

"Yeah," he says, "could you pull out, for just a sec--?" And he shifts away from Thor, so that Thor's dick pulls out of him. His body clings for a brief moment as the head is caught at his entrance, and then he manages to breathe, bereft and empty.

He twists under Thor, turning onto his stomach. Knees open, thighs open; he exposes himself. This way will be better. He's always found an easier time relaxing into an angle like this. And that's what he wants right now. To relax, to drift.

"Okay," he says. "Go ahead."

[beworthy]

His hand comes to Clint's hip, once he has turned to his knees, the shape of his body like an offering: back sloped, thighs spread, without question to be taken and taken well. There is nothing quite like the sight of such a man exposed and ready to receive him; nothing quite like the rush of possession as he again mounts him and presses steadily within: the broad oil-slick head of his cock slipping in first, and then the long glide of his shaft, and his hands upon Clint's hips pulling him back to meet him. He breathes out when again their hips meet, his pressed fully to a tight backside, the hot grip and clasp around him tempting him to a quick hard thrusting and a quick spilling within him, the release of his pent-up lust and tension.

Instead he finds some reserve of patience, and begins to thrust smoothly again: an easy rocking rather than the brutal fucking that would bring him quick relief, his hands steady on Clint's hips. Within and withdrawing again, and again and again, not frictionless but a glide, a perpetual cycle, a relentless motion, and he bends low over the man's body, leaning into him, his mouth finding the exposed nape of his neck.

[halfassed]

Yeah, this -- this is good.

He lets his head tilt, bares his neck for Thor's lips, leans his head on his crossed arms. He rocks forward with every thrust, but there's no desperation in him anymore. He's blissed out, on a high; it isn't the best high he can get, not like shooting perfect, throwing arrow after arrow at a target until he's all out, energy and ammo and aggression gone. This is more like how it feels when he gives someone his trust. Like when he ran blind, tear-gassed over the rooftops of Marrakesh, and Natasha told him jump now and guided him home.

Clint is an addict. To adrenaline, yeah, but also to trust.

[beworthy]

He lets himself indulge for a long time in the smooth motion, the rocking thrust of his cock into a body which clasps hot and slick around it; in the vulnerable nape of Barton's neck, his lips brushing, his teeth catching there, biting down gently; in Barton himself, bent to the mattress, yielding for him with quiet trust, his head tilted to better expose his throat to Thor's mouth. His hands wander and caress as they will, across Clint's waist and ribs, across his shoulders, his back, fingers brushing across beads of sweat, heated skin. Passion, desire are easy things, attained without effort by the slide and pres of his cock and the gentle motion between their bodies; this is not the time to thrust swiftly or hard, this is not the time for animal urges, animal lust. Satisfaction is to be attained at the end of patience.

He reaches his peak almost quietly, only one long, low groan as he sheathes himself fully within again and stills, spurting, spilling his pleasure. A long, long moment, release shivering through him, his face pressed to Clint's shoulderblade, and then Thor sighs and kisses him again and withdraws, turning over onto his back on the mattress, stretching full-length, unabashed in his tawny nakedness; there is a smile lingering faintly at his lips, and his eyes are closed.

[halfassed]

It doesn't scratch the itch.

That's the first thing that floats to his mind, once he's turned over, leaned his head back on Thor's shoulder. Trying to find some compromise between cuddling and completely breaking physical contact, because Clint craves that affection right now.

It doesn't scratch the itch. There's the contentment of an orgasm, the vague fatigue, but under his skin there's still desire. All this has done is make it more violent. He wants to clash, and bite, and squirm. He wants bruises.

He's not willing to ask for them.

Fuck the whole not cuddling thing. Clint turns so he's pressed against Thor, his cheek on Thor's shoulder. If he's rejected or pushed away, that's fine. He can deal with it. Not like it's the first time.

[beworthy]

He is sated, at least for the moment: Thor did not look beyond anything but the release of tension and pent-up lust, the sharing of pleasure, but it doesn't mean he is unwilling for anything more than that. When Clint rolls to him and pillows his head on his shoulder, Thor's arm goes around him to pull him roughly closer; body to body, he enjoys the sensation of shared heat, of sweat cooling on his skin and on Clint's, of the man's apparent desire for intimacy. His hand explores his back, the length of his spine, the soft ridging of scars found here and there, decorations in assorted places, their patterns unpredictable. Here what feels like a blade scar; here perhaps a burn wound. Thor's own skin does not scar, though he has taken more than his fair share of injury: it is flawless, golden, but he has the brutality of his frame to speak to a lifetime of war. They are kin in this, he and Barton.

Thor's fingers grip in his hair, pull him up into a kiss, thorough and a little rough, his tongue entering into the man's mouth; he tastes still of whiskey and desire. "You are satisfied?" he murmurs after, his fingers plaiting against his cheek. It does not need to end here. He could be ready again in very little time at all.

[halfassed]

"Yeah." Breathed against Thor's lips. It's a lie, but at least Clint is decent at making it a convincing one. He's starting to feel trapped, though, caught here, no way out. He needs to go. "I think I need to head out." Edgy, as always, when left in small places.

[beworthy]

His hand lifts from Clint's cheek, and the arm around his waist unwinds; Thor shifts back, lets him go, concern writing itself across his features. He does not ask aloud, but the question is there in his eyes: is he well? Is everything right? "As you like, my friend," he answers quietly, and sits up, shifting back against the pillows; his knees bend and he rests his elbows upon them, and he looks at Clint with that querying gaze. 

[halfassed]

"Yeah."

He goes for his clothes. Feels like saying something absurd like I'll call you. "Thank you," he says, instead. He feels ... better, now. Steadier. It's okay. It's not awful. He's a total crackpot, but there's still something there, something beneath all of his fractured loyalties.

He just hasn't found it yet.