The man beckons him - no, demands him to follow - towards the elevator, and after a quick glance at the enraptured audience at the bar, Barry scurries after him, trying to ignore how loudly his belt buckle clinks as he walks. He can’t tell if he’s more humiliated or turned on as he takes his place by the much taller man, eyes respectfully lowered.
It’s both. Humiliation, arousal, they’re one and the same right now.]
… What would you like me t’call you? [Safer than asking his name. In this scenario, they’re definitely not on a first-name basis.]
[There's a softly approving sound as Barry stands beside him, and Corrigan reaches out to press the button for the elevator, letting his free hand reach to trail over the back of the other man's neck, gentle, thumbing over the notch of his spine.]
"Sir" is nice. Respectful. Don't you think, Barry? [He presses harder, where neck and shoulder meet, coaxing the tense muscle there to relax, to surrender. His hand is big, can reach around the back of Barry's neck without even stretching.]
[Here Barry was, thinking he was just missing sex. Intimacy, companionship, release, here he’d thought thinking that just spending the night with another would help fill the aching lonely void in his chest, if only for a little while.
But the man’s big hand settles on his neck, gentle but firm, approving, and as he squeezes and rubs at his tense muscles, Barry realizes he’s been wrong. This is what he’s been missing. Approval. Direction. Someone to challenge him, to push him to his limits, to punish him when he fails and reward him when he succeeds.
He lets out a soft sigh, cheeks red, fingers nervous, but his body softening to Corrigan’s touch as the elevator gets closer.] Y-Yes, Sir. I do.
Thought so. [It's a one-time thing (regrettably), and Corrigan is conscious of it in the back of his mind, knowing that he can't take as much time as he'd like with this man, breaking down and building back up, punishing and rewarding and guiding the way he knows he could. Given enough time, he could make this blissful, he knows he could.
But it's no use being greedy. He has Barry for tonight, and he intends to make the most of it. So, when the elevator arrives, Corrigan steps inside, then reaches to grab two handfuls of jean jacket, pulls the other man forward, ducks down to kiss him, deep and filthy and hungry. Corrigan's the one pinned against the wall, Barry could easily step away, free himself. Perhaps this is a test to see that he doesn't.]
It's not a thought that hits him as this big, monumental thing, like kissing someone is a betrayal of the memory of a relationship, like kissing someone new should be special, marked with feelings and tender words of promise. When Barry's hands scramble to find Corrigan's shoulders, it's not to push away.
He just holds on, clinging to the man, keeping him pinned to the wall of the now slowly moving elevator. Hoping he hasn't gone rusty since last time, Barry kisses him back, meeting Corrigan's ferocity with hungry moans, lips eagerly parting for him, his body surrendering without hesitation.]
[It's a good long ride to the top floor, penthouse suite, and Corrigan takes his time feeling out the shape of Barry's body pressed to his, the softness of his waist, the line of his back under all those layers, the thickness of his thighs. He's impatient to get the fabric off, away, so he can feel bare skin, can touch and taste.
But for now he can flick his tongue into Barry's mouth, tasting that hunger, swallowing up those moans, pulling back enough to bite at his lower lip, then soothe the sting with more kisses. Corrigan reaches up to guide Barry's hands as well, moving them from his shoulders.]
You can touch me. Anywhere. Until the elevator stops. [It's a limited-time offer, a tease of what's to come.]
[Corrigan's hands on him feel so good. His breath on his face, his teeth on his lip, his tongue pushing against his own in slick, heated, impatient motions make the older man quiver, knees weak even as he holds Corrigan against the wall. Where he'd thought he'd be self-conscious about his body - especially in comparison to this man - Barry just feels good, pressing into his touch, arching into his strong hands, for once disregarding the state he's in.]
Th-Thank you, Sir.
[It's all he manages to say in a quick, sharp exhale before he leans back in to kiss him, hands finding Corrigan's hips. His own hands are big, strong, calloused with work and age. Curiosity and affirmation win out over his nerves, and Barry finds himself exploring the firm span of Corrigan's muscled stomach, his waist, even daring to brush and gently press against the front of his suit pants.]
[Corrigan hums softly, a low, rumbling sound, gently approving, leaning back against the wall of the elevator and ducking to return the kiss. He's almost playful at it, one hand going up to stroke through the salt-and-pepper hair, tugging gently, arching up into the broad hands exploring his body. He's solid muscle, almost everywhere, and it's easily tangible through his pants that he's just as into all of this as Barry is.
They could almost be mistaken for a smitten couple, lost in touching and kissing and enjoying one another. Except then the elevator comes to a halt, and Corrigan pauses, waiting to see if Barry will follow orders, will stop touching.]
[It only takes a couple of seconds, maybe two, maybe three, for Barry to realize the elevator has stopped moving and pull away. He's panting, flushed, lips bruised, glasses crooked, his body trembling with want and anticipation.
And with nerves. It's been a while since he's done this. He's not familiar with this Dom, how he does things, where he draws the line between passing and failing. Barry just got eager. Bold. Forgot himself. It just felt nice, touching Corrigan, feeling his body.
It's probably fine. It was just two seconds, maybe three. Barry's just overthinking things again. It's fine.]
[Corrigan pauses for just a moment after the doors open, resting a broad palm over one so they don't close, giving Barry a sideways glance. His tone softens, genuine for the first time:] Safeword?
[The implication is clear -- Corrigan needs to know the limit, so he can push Barry right up to it, whether by pleasure or pain or a combination. Suffice it to say, Barry was not overthinking.]
[Definitely not overthinking, then. Oh boy. They're getting right into it, huh. Barry adjusts his glasses and offers his go-to safeword before he even has a chance to reconsider.]
Lich.
[Which is the lamest, nerdiest, most "I've played Dungeons and Dragons since the seventies" answer he could've possibly given. It's also the truth. Barry turns absolutely scarlet, but sticks with it.]
[There's another of those lightning-quick flickers, where Corrigan's all-controlling, all-powerful facade slips just a bit, just enough for an amused grin to cross his face. He sees that reference, and he gets it, which is likely the most incongruous thing ever, this sexgod of a man knowing enough about D&D to understand what a Lich is.
But then he nods, all business again, and the elevator lets them out into a small foyer, tasteful floral painting and tiny endtable and a door. There's a button pad and what looks, incredibly, like some sort of thumbprint scanner to even get in. Corrigan takes security seriously.
He barely lets Barry get inside the imposing door before he's giving his next command, toeing off his shoes and starting to unbuckle his own belt.]
[There's that look again. Very quick, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of look, but Barry caught it this time too. It makes him look younger. Sweeter. Disarmingly adorable.
It doesn't disarm him for long, of course. The keypad and the thumbprint scanner at the door, Corrigan's quiet, imposing demeanor as he unbuckles his belt, it brings him back to earth and the gravity of his situation. He feels like he's about to be punished for his carelessness in the elevator.
Better get right into character.]
Yes, Sir. [Barry doesn't dare take a moment to look around the room he's stepped into before he pulls off his glasses, making everything around him a blur. He sheds the jean jacket, quickly unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers, trying to push the shame of the state of his body aside as he bares himself for this stranger. Barry looks his age, maybe worse, and he knows it.
Guess this is what his life has come to. In his fifties, overweight, divorced, slowly balding, pulling his bluejeans down his chubby thighs in front of the stunning man he's paying to have sex with.
[Corrigan had been with...a lot of people. A lot. He stopped focusing entirely on some vague approximation of aesthetic perfection a very long time ago. Symmetrical features and toned abs are all very good, but most humans don't look like that. Everyone has some flaw, some feature they're embarrassed about showing. The one consistently perfect thing is the surrender required to bare one's self completely.
So Corrigan steps forward, trails the fingers of one hand up Barry's side, thumb stroking gently over the shape of his waist, tracing the softer, looser skin of stretch marks and the plush feel of muscle gone soft.]
Whatever it is you're thinking, don't. [It's a command, but gentler. He sees that shame, that embarrassment, as old and practiced as a scar.] In this room, your only thoughts are pleasing me and obeying.
[Corrigan's hand comes to rest cupping Barry's chin, lifting it to meet the other man's eyes.] I would not have brought you here if I didn't desire you.
[Corrigan's fingers to his skin come at a shockingly opportune time, pulling him out of his reverie just as he starts spiraling. It's grounding, in a way. A soft spot between comforting and concerning in how fast it pulls Barry back down to earth. His ex-wife had that same uncanny ability to spot exactly when his thoughts and insecurities started running away with him. It was one of the things that made her such a good partner.
What made her such a good Dom.
This bodes well for the stranger caressing his side, cupping his chin.]
... Y-Yes, Sir. Of course. I, uh... [He shivers at Corrigan's touch. With his glasses off, he can't quite make out the look on his face, but he can hear the calm sincerity in his voice. The thought of a man like this actually wanting him makes him feel lightheaded.] It won't happen again, Sir.
[Starting with completing his task - getting undressed. A quick shimmy and some shuffling of his feet, and Barry stands completely naked before him, his glasses back on his nose and his cock already hard. There's a conscious effort to not look as nervous as he feels.] Is th-this more t'your likin', Sir?
[Corrigan steps back to allow Barry to finish undressing, then nods, simply.] Much.
[Then his body language is shifting again, shoulders squaring, drawing himself up to his full height.] Less to my liking was your performance in the elevator. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear as to my expectations, but clearly I was mistaken.
Such disobedience is call for punishment of some sort. You are permitted to chose what type. [It seems lenient, but it's a unique type of humiliation, making Barry articulate aloud what he wants Corrigan to do to him. Spank him, flog him, use ice or candles to otherwise punish -- the suite is uniquely equipped to do any or all of these.]
[As Corrigan straightens up, hardening his frame, becoming hard and stern before him, Barry apologetically shrinks in on himself. His gaze lowers, his soft body trembles, shame weighing him down where he stands.
This guy is good. Still dressed, tall and hard and gorgeous, walking that thin line between strict and patient, adoring yet punishing. Making him put words to his own punishment. Barry finds slipping into character incredibly easy with this man.]
Of course. Y-You're right, Sir. Thank you.
[He takes a quick glance around the room with his head still bowed. Plenty of anchors for shackles and cuffs... Paddles, floggers, whips, canes... There looks to be a padded bench in the corner made exclusively for spanking... It's the candles on the dresser that catches his attention, however.]
I... I would like to choose th-the candles, Sir. I-If I may make a suggestion... [He holds out his hands.] T'make up for bein' so greedy in the elevator, would it please Sir to use my mouth while I'm holdin' a lit candle? I've, uh, been told I make a real good candleholder...
...it would. [Corrigan says this gracefully, almost like it's a concession of some sort. He crosses to the candles, looking them over, settling on one with a broad, solid base. Thick and unscented, with wax that melts in viscous, stinging globs.]
[Barry breathes a sigh of relief, watching Corrigan cross the room and pick out a candle he likes. It's... going to hurt. The thought of the pain to come makes Barry's spine tingle.
Something in him has been craving this.]
Then I'll impress ya, Sir. [By the time Corrigan returns, Barry is on his knees, hands held out to receive the candle. His fingers are trembling.] Y'can count on it.
[Corrigan lights the candle, holds it above Barry's outstretched hands, tilts it a little until the drops of melted wax fall, one, two, three. He watches to see if Barry flinches.]
Because if not, I can think of other places to rest this.
[The flame catches hold of the wick, crackling softly as wax melts and evaporates, and Barry holds his breath, watching the candle with wide-eyed anticipation. It starts melting, slowly running over, and then it drips right into his palms, hitting his skin like needles.
Barry gasps, moans, pupils narrowing into pinpricks before blowing up so wide they almost swallow his irises. His fingers twitch from the pain, his whole body shivers - but he doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away, doesn't snap his jaw, doesn't close his eyes even as they well with moisture.
He's a good candle-holder. He's a good boy. Right?]
U-Understood, Sir. [Swallowing, Barry keeps his hands outstretched, waiting patiently for the candle.] Please, Sir, please use my mouth... I-- I wanna please ya, Sir.
There you go. [Corrigan murmurs it softly, almost a coo, setting the candle into Barry's outstretched palms, pressing down so the base adheres to the hardening wax coating his skin.] Are you sure you can do both? Manage to please me and keep hold of this?
[His own hands free, Corrigan strokes his fingers through Barry's hair, fluffs it up, settles his palm possessively on top of the other man's head, then presses his head back.] If you were to drop it or -- god forbid -- burn me, that would be very unfortunate.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-09-23 12:19 am (UTC)The man beckons him - no, demands him to follow - towards the elevator, and after a quick glance at the enraptured audience at the bar, Barry scurries after him, trying to ignore how loudly his belt buckle clinks as he walks. He can’t tell if he’s more humiliated or turned on as he takes his place by the much taller man, eyes respectfully lowered.
It’s both. Humiliation, arousal, they’re one and the same right now.]
… What would you like me t’call you? [Safer than asking his name. In this scenario, they’re definitely not on a first-name basis.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-23 05:21 am (UTC)"Sir" is nice. Respectful. Don't you think, Barry? [He presses harder, where neck and shoulder meet, coaxing the tense muscle there to relax, to surrender. His hand is big, can reach around the back of Barry's neck without even stretching.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-23 08:43 pm (UTC)But the man’s big hand settles on his neck, gentle but firm, approving, and as he squeezes and rubs at his tense muscles, Barry realizes he’s been wrong. This is what he’s been missing. Approval. Direction. Someone to challenge him, to push him to his limits, to punish him when he fails and reward him when he succeeds.
He lets out a soft sigh, cheeks red, fingers nervous, but his body softening to Corrigan’s touch as the elevator gets closer.] Y-Yes, Sir. I do.
no subject
Date: 2018-09-23 09:14 pm (UTC)But it's no use being greedy. He has Barry for tonight, and he intends to make the most of it. So, when the elevator arrives, Corrigan steps inside, then reaches to grab two handfuls of jean jacket, pulls the other man forward, ducks down to kiss him, deep and filthy and hungry. Corrigan's the one pinned against the wall, Barry could easily step away, free himself. Perhaps this is a test to see that he doesn't.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-23 09:40 pm (UTC)It's not a thought that hits him as this big, monumental thing, like kissing someone is a betrayal of the memory of a relationship, like kissing someone new should be special, marked with feelings and tender words of promise. When Barry's hands scramble to find Corrigan's shoulders, it's not to push away.
He just holds on, clinging to the man, keeping him pinned to the wall of the now slowly moving elevator. Hoping he hasn't gone rusty since last time, Barry kisses him back, meeting Corrigan's ferocity with hungry moans, lips eagerly parting for him, his body surrendering without hesitation.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-24 02:07 am (UTC)But for now he can flick his tongue into Barry's mouth, tasting that hunger, swallowing up those moans, pulling back enough to bite at his lower lip, then soothe the sting with more kisses. Corrigan reaches up to guide Barry's hands as well, moving them from his shoulders.]
You can touch me. Anywhere. Until the elevator stops. [It's a limited-time offer, a tease of what's to come.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-24 06:32 pm (UTC)Th-Thank you, Sir.
[It's all he manages to say in a quick, sharp exhale before he leans back in to kiss him, hands finding Corrigan's hips. His own hands are big, strong, calloused with work and age. Curiosity and affirmation win out over his nerves, and Barry finds himself exploring the firm span of Corrigan's muscled stomach, his waist, even daring to brush and gently press against the front of his suit pants.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-25 02:47 am (UTC)They could almost be mistaken for a smitten couple, lost in touching and kissing and enjoying one another. Except then the elevator comes to a halt, and Corrigan pauses, waiting to see if Barry will follow orders, will stop touching.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-25 09:50 pm (UTC)And with nerves. It's been a while since he's done this. He's not familiar with this Dom, how he does things, where he draws the line between passing and failing. Barry just got eager. Bold. Forgot himself. It just felt nice, touching Corrigan, feeling his body.
It's probably fine. It was just two seconds, maybe three. Barry's just overthinking things again. It's fine.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-29 06:16 pm (UTC)[The implication is clear -- Corrigan needs to know the limit, so he can push Barry right up to it, whether by pleasure or pain or a combination. Suffice it to say, Barry was not overthinking.]
no subject
Date: 2018-09-29 06:50 pm (UTC)Lich.
[Which is the lamest, nerdiest, most "I've played Dungeons and Dragons since the seventies" answer he could've possibly given. It's also the truth. Barry turns absolutely scarlet, but sticks with it.]
L-Lich, Sir. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-05 09:07 pm (UTC)But then he nods, all business again, and the elevator lets them out into a small foyer, tasteful floral painting and tiny endtable and a door. There's a button pad and what looks, incredibly, like some sort of thumbprint scanner to even get in. Corrigan takes security seriously.
He barely lets Barry get inside the imposing door before he's giving his next command, toeing off his shoes and starting to unbuckle his own belt.]
Undress.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-06 04:42 pm (UTC)It doesn't disarm him for long, of course. The keypad and the thumbprint scanner at the door, Corrigan's quiet, imposing demeanor as he unbuckles his belt, it brings him back to earth and the gravity of his situation. He feels like he's about to be punished for his carelessness in the elevator.
Better get right into character.]
Yes, Sir. [Barry doesn't dare take a moment to look around the room he's stepped into before he pulls off his glasses, making everything around him a blur. He sheds the jean jacket, quickly unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers, trying to push the shame of the state of his body aside as he bares himself for this stranger. Barry looks his age, maybe worse, and he knows it.
Guess this is what his life has come to. In his fifties, overweight, divorced, slowly balding, pulling his bluejeans down his chubby thighs in front of the stunning man he's paying to have sex with.
No room for doubts or shame now.]
no subject
Date: 2018-10-09 09:11 pm (UTC)So Corrigan steps forward, trails the fingers of one hand up Barry's side, thumb stroking gently over the shape of his waist, tracing the softer, looser skin of stretch marks and the plush feel of muscle gone soft.]
Whatever it is you're thinking, don't. [It's a command, but gentler. He sees that shame, that embarrassment, as old and practiced as a scar.] In this room, your only thoughts are pleasing me and obeying.
[Corrigan's hand comes to rest cupping Barry's chin, lifting it to meet the other man's eyes.] I would not have brought you here if I didn't desire you.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-09 10:03 pm (UTC)What made her such a good Dom.
This bodes well for the stranger caressing his side, cupping his chin.]
... Y-Yes, Sir. Of course. I, uh... [He shivers at Corrigan's touch. With his glasses off, he can't quite make out the look on his face, but he can hear the calm sincerity in his voice. The thought of a man like this actually wanting him makes him feel lightheaded.] It won't happen again, Sir.
[Starting with completing his task - getting undressed. A quick shimmy and some shuffling of his feet, and Barry stands completely naked before him, his glasses back on his nose and his cock already hard. There's a conscious effort to not look as nervous as he feels.] Is th-this more t'your likin', Sir?
no subject
Date: 2018-10-15 03:27 am (UTC)[Then his body language is shifting again, shoulders squaring, drawing himself up to his full height.] Less to my liking was your performance in the elevator. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear as to my expectations, but clearly I was mistaken.
Such disobedience is call for punishment of some sort. You are permitted to chose what type. [It seems lenient, but it's a unique type of humiliation, making Barry articulate aloud what he wants Corrigan to do to him. Spank him, flog him, use ice or candles to otherwise punish -- the suite is uniquely equipped to do any or all of these.]
no subject
Date: 2018-10-15 11:37 pm (UTC)This guy is good. Still dressed, tall and hard and gorgeous, walking that thin line between strict and patient, adoring yet punishing. Making him put words to his own punishment. Barry finds slipping into character incredibly easy with this man.]
Of course. Y-You're right, Sir. Thank you.
[He takes a quick glance around the room with his head still bowed. Plenty of anchors for shackles and cuffs... Paddles, floggers, whips, canes... There looks to be a padded bench in the corner made exclusively for spanking... It's the candles on the dresser that catches his attention, however.]
I... I would like to choose th-the candles, Sir. I-If I may make a suggestion... [He holds out his hands.] T'make up for bein' so greedy in the elevator, would it please Sir to use my mouth while I'm holdin' a lit candle? I've, uh, been told I make a real good candleholder...
no subject
Date: 2018-10-22 02:58 am (UTC)I expect to be impressed.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-22 03:09 am (UTC)Something in him has been craving this.]
Then I'll impress ya, Sir. [By the time Corrigan returns, Barry is on his knees, hands held out to receive the candle. His fingers are trembling.] Y'can count on it.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-28 05:49 am (UTC)[Corrigan lights the candle, holds it above Barry's outstretched hands, tilts it a little until the drops of melted wax fall, one, two, three. He watches to see if Barry flinches.]
Because if not, I can think of other places to rest this.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-28 03:13 pm (UTC)Barry gasps, moans, pupils narrowing into pinpricks before blowing up so wide they almost swallow his irises. His fingers twitch from the pain, his whole body shivers - but he doesn't flinch. Doesn't pull away, doesn't snap his jaw, doesn't close his eyes even as they well with moisture.
He's a good candle-holder. He's a good boy. Right?]
U-Understood, Sir. [Swallowing, Barry keeps his hands outstretched, waiting patiently for the candle.] Please, Sir, please use my mouth... I-- I wanna please ya, Sir.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-06 03:45 am (UTC)[His own hands free, Corrigan strokes his fingers through Barry's hair, fluffs it up, settles his palm possessively on top of the other man's head, then presses his head back.] If you were to drop it or -- god forbid -- burn me, that would be very unfortunate.