Anyone for some Warren/Andrew kink?
EDIT: Updated
Any Warren/Andrew shippers out there?
Great, I'm glad I have your attention now.
Ok kiddies, here's the deal for this one: I'm a member of this rp community that gives players the opportunity to rp out any situations they want with any characters they want. There isn't one story going on there, just a series of threads that the players always wanted to play. A good way to get out some of your pent-up rp frustration. All posts there, however, are friends only, so I can't just link anyone to the thread in question that I have going with Warren.
Er, of course, this thread is heading towards all kinds of adult situations, so perhaps it's best that it's friends only.
What kind of adult situations you ask? (Because I know you're asking.) Well, the story for this thread revolves around Warren taking Andrew to a BDSM club. Not like uber-goth flashy-lights and pounding-techno Hellraiser-lovers kind of club. Think more along the lines of "The Club", if you catch my reference. It's all classy and formal and such. It takes place in an AU where Warren and Andrew have been together for quite a while outside of the Trio. And, you know, no flaying Warren this time. 'Cause that's not sexy.
There hasn't been any sex in the thread yet, but I still feel the need to put this warning here because yes, I will be posting the thread in this entry for anyone who is curious.
THIS THREAD CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF BDSM. If that's not your bag, baby, then go no further. If you are too young for this kind of kinky shit, then leave now before your mothers decide to lynch me.
So, still with me then? Great.
NOTE: Rather than making Steph re-post all of our entries here, I'll be doing it all myself. I'll label which parts are from Warren's POV and which are from Andrew's.
The Club
-Warren_is_gone
The room isn't what anyone expects it to be when they first enter it. To be honest, I think it looks different for everyone. But to me, it's a huge, almost circular room with black marble walls that are veined with real gold threading. There are a number of big, overstuffed red velvet chairs around the circumference of the room, and the center is a polished-to-perfection hardwood square that serves as both a dance floor on certain nights and a display floor on others. It all depends on the tastes of those who are holding the leashes.
Tall, porcelain stands boast gorgeous vases that are filled with deeply rare and exotic flowers that fill the room with a light, sweet scent. Each chair has two flanking it; a small table on the left side that usually housed someone's drink, cell phone, or tools of torment for the night. The glint of the occasional exacto knife can be seen winking through the classily dimmed lights of The Club.
On the other side of each chair, there is a person kneeling. Man or woman, it all depends. Almost all of them are wearing pretty, daintily revealing outfits in shades of black and red or white that their masters picked out for them, although a few are completely naked, and all of them are wearing the same black leather collar. None of those foolish spikes or studs or grommets here--this is far from one of those God-forsaken 'goth' clubs. These collars are simple, solid black, the leather polished and oiled to exquisite softeness, the initials of the one who owns them scrawled beautifully on one side of their necks in silver calligraphy.
Music is floating very softly through the clear and heavy air, some classical piece I couldn't place at the moment. It's beautiful. The young woman on the hardwood square catches my eye. Her master, an older man with dark hair that is beginning to go silver at the temples, has her on a beautiful, close-link chain leash. She is naked from the waist up, but she is wearing a pair of extremely short white leather shorts that are just barely not panties, and a pair of thigh-high white leather boots. Her skin is as dark and luscious as polished ebony, and her long, jet-black hair brushes her naked shoulders so beautifully. Her breasts are high and small, and her face is delicate with an upturned nose and full, lush lips. She's gorgeous. But not quite as gorgeous as the beauty standing next to me.
Turning to Andrew, I offer him somewhat of a predatory smile. He's wearing his collar, with the initials W.M inscribed on the right side of his neck. I know he's shy, and so for tonight I've got him shirtless in a pair of black PVC pants that are so tight they looked as if someone melted them and poured them all over his legs, as if they were painted on. His shoes are simple and black, not boots. I don't even have him leashed. Tonight, I'm going easy on him. But not for long. Not every night.
"Get ready, kitten. You're up next. The masters are going to want to see the new morsel from all sides." I lean down to whisper in his ear, taking a moment to run my fingers through the hair at the back of his head. For a moment, I grip his hair tightly and tug his head back to run the fingers of my other hand down his pretty, pale and exposed throat. But then I let him go and smile adoringly at him.
"Welcome to the club, kitten. What do you think?"
Any Warren/Andrew shippers out there?
Great, I'm glad I have your attention now.
Ok kiddies, here's the deal for this one: I'm a member of this rp community that gives players the opportunity to rp out any situations they want with any characters they want. There isn't one story going on there, just a series of threads that the players always wanted to play. A good way to get out some of your pent-up rp frustration. All posts there, however, are friends only, so I can't just link anyone to the thread in question that I have going with Warren.
Er, of course, this thread is heading towards all kinds of adult situations, so perhaps it's best that it's friends only.
What kind of adult situations you ask? (Because I know you're asking.) Well, the story for this thread revolves around Warren taking Andrew to a BDSM club. Not like uber-goth flashy-lights and pounding-techno Hellraiser-lovers kind of club. Think more along the lines of "The Club", if you catch my reference. It's all classy and formal and such. It takes place in an AU where Warren and Andrew have been together for quite a while outside of the Trio. And, you know, no flaying Warren this time. 'Cause that's not sexy.
There hasn't been any sex in the thread yet, but I still feel the need to put this warning here because yes, I will be posting the thread in this entry for anyone who is curious.
THIS THREAD CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF BDSM. If that's not your bag, baby, then go no further. If you are too young for this kind of kinky shit, then leave now before your mothers decide to lynch me.
So, still with me then? Great.
NOTE: Rather than making Steph re-post all of our entries here, I'll be doing it all myself. I'll label which parts are from Warren's POV and which are from Andrew's.
The Club
-Warren_is_gone
The room isn't what anyone expects it to be when they first enter it. To be honest, I think it looks different for everyone. But to me, it's a huge, almost circular room with black marble walls that are veined with real gold threading. There are a number of big, overstuffed red velvet chairs around the circumference of the room, and the center is a polished-to-perfection hardwood square that serves as both a dance floor on certain nights and a display floor on others. It all depends on the tastes of those who are holding the leashes.
Tall, porcelain stands boast gorgeous vases that are filled with deeply rare and exotic flowers that fill the room with a light, sweet scent. Each chair has two flanking it; a small table on the left side that usually housed someone's drink, cell phone, or tools of torment for the night. The glint of the occasional exacto knife can be seen winking through the classily dimmed lights of The Club.
On the other side of each chair, there is a person kneeling. Man or woman, it all depends. Almost all of them are wearing pretty, daintily revealing outfits in shades of black and red or white that their masters picked out for them, although a few are completely naked, and all of them are wearing the same black leather collar. None of those foolish spikes or studs or grommets here--this is far from one of those God-forsaken 'goth' clubs. These collars are simple, solid black, the leather polished and oiled to exquisite softeness, the initials of the one who owns them scrawled beautifully on one side of their necks in silver calligraphy.
Music is floating very softly through the clear and heavy air, some classical piece I couldn't place at the moment. It's beautiful. The young woman on the hardwood square catches my eye. Her master, an older man with dark hair that is beginning to go silver at the temples, has her on a beautiful, close-link chain leash. She is naked from the waist up, but she is wearing a pair of extremely short white leather shorts that are just barely not panties, and a pair of thigh-high white leather boots. Her skin is as dark and luscious as polished ebony, and her long, jet-black hair brushes her naked shoulders so beautifully. Her breasts are high and small, and her face is delicate with an upturned nose and full, lush lips. She's gorgeous. But not quite as gorgeous as the beauty standing next to me.
Turning to Andrew, I offer him somewhat of a predatory smile. He's wearing his collar, with the initials W.M inscribed on the right side of his neck. I know he's shy, and so for tonight I've got him shirtless in a pair of black PVC pants that are so tight they looked as if someone melted them and poured them all over his legs, as if they were painted on. His shoes are simple and black, not boots. I don't even have him leashed. Tonight, I'm going easy on him. But not for long. Not every night.
"Get ready, kitten. You're up next. The masters are going to want to see the new morsel from all sides." I lean down to whisper in his ear, taking a moment to run my fingers through the hair at the back of his head. For a moment, I grip his hair tightly and tug his head back to run the fingers of my other hand down his pretty, pale and exposed throat. But then I let him go and smile adoringly at him.
"Welcome to the club, kitten. What do you think?"