[Liem looks down at the phone for a long, drawn-out moment while he considers Matt's question, considers the scenario ahead of them. What does he want?]
No. Just Liem.
[It's not that he has an aversion to titles or nicknames, but ultimately he finds that he still prefers the name on Matt's lips to be his.
For now he makes a note in his phone, and heads upstairs to make use of the hour he's allotted himself. He has preparations to make.]
[ It takes Matt about ten minutes to get home, five to eat, and ten more to shower and brush his teeth. He doesn't have time for more ritual than that; a spritz of cologne has to stand in for incense and ablutions. He layers on clothes that are warm, but easy to remove: an undershirt and soft sweater and lounge pants that close with a drawstring. Back on go the coat, scarf, gloves, and woolen cap, and Matt's back out the door into snowy Sumarlok.
He actually ends up at Liem's door with a few minutes to spare. He rereads the messages, verifying both the terms of his arrival and the timestamp of Liem's "in one hour" message.
At exactly 60 minutes, Matt knocks on the door. His smile is secretive and pleased, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. ]
[Liem spends a good portion of those 59 minutes in thought, considering the evening before them as he disappears into his bathroom, still mulling it over as he emerges, his hair damp and freshly styled, to change into a fresh suit (sans jacket, as he often prefers when at home). He opts for something in shades of dark grey and gold, and by the time he’s ready to actually turn his preparations to his home, he has a good idea of what he wants to do. Ultimately everything hinges on what Matt is comfortable with, but Liem didn’t survive to see his second century without being able to adapt.
When Matt knocks, Liem is waiting in the sitting room, staring meditatively at the bonsai tree he received for his birthday. He glances at the time, gets up and answers the door promptly, noting with a smile that Matt isn’t exactly breathing like someone who just hustled up the porch stairs without another moment to spare.]
Matt—you’re right on time. Come in.
[He steps aside to allow him entry, gesturing to the racks and hooks where he can deposit his outerwear. Although his expression is warm, he notably doesn't touch Matt as he ushers him in and waits for him to divest himself of his winter clothes.]
Are you ready? Do you need anything before we begin?
[ Said with a small, sweet smile, as Matt nudges at his shoes and shucks his coat off. Though he's a little off balance already. He's taking his cues from Liem's body language, keeping a slight distance, but he's so used to touching him: kissing him hello, stroking his ears or the streak of gray at his temples, embracing. Maybe it's silly, but Matt already misses it.
Perhaps if he's good, Liem will oblige him later. ]
I don't think so, [ Matt decides, in answer to the question. ] I'm hydrated and everything. [ He unwinds his scarf from his neck, draping it atop his coat where it hangs. ] Thanks for doing this.
[Liem smiles as he watches Matt hang up his scarf, pleased with the answer he’s given. He waits until Matt is completely finished hanging up his belongings and he has his full attention before speaking again.]
Well, the front hall is hardly an inviting place to speak. Follow me.
[He turns and leads Matt upstairs, up to the top floor, which houses the bedrooms. Instead of turning up the hall to the master bedroom, however, Liem takes him into one of the smaller rooms—one that has been converted into a tidy and polished study. Inside is a wall of bookshelves, a writing desk and a straight-backed wooden chair, and a cushioned seat tucked into one corner next to a small end table.
Liem walks to the desk and turns so he can lean back against it while he looks at Matt. He gestures at the cushioned chair across the room.]
Take a seat. [It’s a nice chair, every bit as lovely as the ones in the sitting room downstairs. He won’t be sitting in it for long.] So—you asked me to keep you in line. Before we begin, tell me what that doesn’t mean to you. Is there anything you’d like to avoid?
[ Matt, a trusting baby deer, ambles trustingly along and into the study. His brows arch slightly, impressed, as he takes in the space.
You'd think he'd have learned by now to be wary of fastidious office setups. ]
Oh, thanks. [ He smiles as he takes a seat, perched on the edge of the cushion. Liem has never been precious about his nice furniture, only (in Matt's view) appropriately careful, but a lifetime of parental conditioning will likely take a few more visits to soften.
Matt's sock-clad toes nudge at the floor, a small distracting gesture as he ponders the question. ]
I think ...
Hm.
Well, I'm generally good with following orders, being patient, being used as furniture, restraints of most kinds. I think some kinds of humiliation might be a no-go? Like, I like being called a slut, but not if you really mean it.
[Liem raises an eyebrow just slightly as Matt lists off the things that he’s okay with—he’s really ready for anything, isn’t he? Though Liem isn’t sure what kind of furniture he would trust Matt to be used as. He’s not confident in his structural integrity, especially in the long term.]
I’m not planning to humiliate you, but I’ll keep that in mind.
[He offers a gentle, reassuring smile. Matt asked for his help today, so no, humiliation isn’t on the menu. This is meant to be a positive experience—a learning experience. There’s surely no reason why he would need to be suspicious of office settings in a context like this one.]
How do you feel about toys?
[Absolutely, definitely no reason.]
And before we start, be good and remind me of your safe words.
[ Matt smiles back. He wouldn't say things have changed between them since the blizzard, exactly? But at least on his end, there's a sense of ... settling, perhaps. Stability.
His smile widens slightly at the mention of toys. ]
Oh, yeah, I love them. I mean--you've seen my space. [ All those aesthetically arranged shelves. ] Anything I have, I'm good at being used on me. Insertables, wax, wartenberg wheel, feathers and ice.
And my safe words are colors, [ he adds promptly. ] Green for good, keep going, yellow for not sure or slow down, red for stop.
[The way Matt smiles when he mentions toys makes Liem feel glad that the idea occurred to him, especially considering how unused he is to doing this sort of thing for a partner. He’s not sure what exactly Matt imagined might result when he messaged him with his request—he knows that he told Matt he doesn’t usually play a dominant role during sexual encounters. But if Matt trusts him to at least make the attempt, then that’s good enough for him. He’s just going to do his best.]
Good.
[He pushes away from the desk, crossing the room to where Matt is perched on the cushioned chair. Slowly Liem leans down, bracing one hand on the armrest next to Matt as he draws closer, stopping barely more than a breath away. With his other hand, he reaches past Matt and retrieves a small stack of plain white paper from a rack on a nearby shelf.
He straightens with the paper in hand.]
Let’s begin, then.
[Returning to the desk, he plops the paper down atop it and gestures at the wooden seat in front of it. A keen observer might note the decidedly un-ergonomic design and identify the chair as originating from Liem’s dining room.]
[ Matt's a predictable creature in some ways. Reliable. When Liem draws near, he straightens up, shoulders dropping. The line of his throat is taut with anticipation.
--And then Liem reaches past him, and Matt gives a sigh that's not quite heavy enough for a laugh. It isn't until Liem straightens up, and Matt sees what he has, that he gets his first stomach-flip of genuine déjà vu.
No way. ]
Ah ...
[ Matt's not about to protest. But he does have some questions? Like what exactly do you and Simon talk about? At Liem's encouragement, Matt rises like a pliant ghost and crosses to the wooden chair. He sits. ]
[If Liem has any inkling about the kinds of things Simon has been putting Matt through, he masks it extremely well. He watches patiently as Matt approaches and sits at the desk. His manner is pleasantly businesslike.]
Now, while you’re in my care, we will be using our time constructively.
[He opens one of the desk drawers and withdraws a rather fancy pen—a thoughtful birthday gift from Simon, who doesn’t have to know about this use for it, but would probably approve if he did. Now standing straight-backed next to the desk, he looks down at Matt.]
Regardless of one’s vocation, discipline is vital to nurture. It allows one to exercise restraint, and to persevere in the face of adversity. It is one of the virtues that separates civilized beings from creatures of instinct—from beasts.
[Sliding the top sheet of paper closer, he writes a line on it in flowing, perfectly even script, then turns the page so Matt can easily read it: I will not allow myself to be ruled by my desires. Crisply, he places the pen atop the untouched stack of paper.]
Matt's feeling a lot of feelings right now. The first, and most immediate, is that Liem sounds really good saying all this, like some kind of sexy bowtie-wearing professor. The second is a hot flush over the line on the page. But the third ...
Well, Matt picks up the pen. But he can't help hedging: ]
It seems like a difference, more than a virtue versus deficit. Anything in excess is a problem--even discipline.
[ But Matt doesn't want to make an actual sticking point of this when it's all for fun. And when he personally feels as though he's suffering from the opposite of discipline. He starts to write: I will not ... ]
[Liem raises an eyebrow at the commentary Matt adds before bending to his task. Mildly, he says,]
That’s an intriguing point you raise—though I must note that in order for there to be a difference, you would first need to demonstrate that you have discipline. You certainly aren’t in danger of suffering from an excess of it.
[Turning for a moment to regard the wall of shelves, he reaches out and hefts a large, spherical paperweight. He walks around the back of Matt’s chair to stand on his non-dominant side.]
You should know that every time you talk back to me, I’m going to take it as a sign that your current task is too comfortable for you.
[ Matt makes a sort of hmph! at Liem saying--or rather, heavily implying, then saying--that he doesn't have any discipline. He does so! He's just under a gem curse! (That this entire operation was Matt's idea does not escape him. It's just occupying a very small back corner of his mind at present.)
Part of him can't help but wonder what else Liem will throw at him if he raises another counterpoint. How many paperweights does he own?
Matt continues allow myself to be ruled by. His handwriting isn't as perfect as Liem's--he's accustomed to sketching magical diagrams, but sigils are more of an art than a science. Still, he's making an effort to be neat. His left hand, meanwhile, lifts off the desk, palm turned up.
[As soon as Matt has outstretched his hand to Liem’s satisfaction, he deposits the paperweight carefully into it. As paperweights go it’s quite heavy, but it should still be simple to hold—for the first minute or two, that is.]
Don’t move your arm, and don’t let it touch the desk.
[Stepping back, Liem regards Matt’s progress from over his shoulder. He inspects the completed line with a small tsk.]
A valiant first effort, Matt—but I know you can do better. Presentation is important. Think of this as an opportunity to impress me.
[Doesn’t he want to impress him? Or at least be obedient enough to re-earn the free use of his other hand?]
[ Matt says hmm at Liem's instruction, softer this time. He has his reservations about the specific verbiage here, and the philosophies that may underly it, but opportunity to impress me strikes a pleasing note in him. Even with the paperweight in his palm, Matt visibly perks up.
Again it is.
The paperweight is heavier than he expected, but it has a cool, reassuring heft in his hand. For the moment, it's simple enough to hold his arm in place as he writes. At the end of the sentence, Matt flicks a glance up to Liem--partly for his assessment of Matt's penmanship, but partly ...
Well, the lack of discipline thing has to be just for sexy games, right? Liem said he wasn't looking to humiliate him. Matt figures whatever he can read in Liem's face will help him figure out how to proceed. ]
[When Matt glances up at him, Liem is watching him rather than the paper. Right now he’s mostly trying to gauge his reactions, to feel out what Matt responds best to, and to guess the general shape of his limits. “Keep me in line” is such a broad request, and the specifics of what might make it enjoyable are so subjective. But he does know his own preferences, and he’s pleased when Matt perks up a little to tackle his next instruction. He looks so inexcusably kissable.
When Liem looks back at the page, a smile steals gently over his features.]
Very good, Matt. I am impressed, and not just by your penmanship—you take instruction very well.
[That’s really the point of the exercise: to give him the opportunity to follow instructions, and to give Liem the chance to reward him with something nice. Speaking of—]
Why don’t you give me another three lines just like that, for an even five? If you do, I’ll be able to reward you for your hard work.
On the one hand. Matt does love a stern, cool, bossy Liem.
But even more than that, Matt loves seeing a stern, cool, bossy Liem soften just a little bit. Just enough for him to catch it in the corners of his smile. And when he starts in with things like good and reward and the particularly intoxicating you take instruction very well ...
Well, he doesn't melt exactly. (He couldn't without dropping the paperweight.) But his smile flickers a bit wider, and the set of his shoulders relaxes.
Matt starts on a third iteration of the sentence, lashes drooping as he focuses. By the beginning of the fourth, his hand has started to tremor slightly, borne down by the weight in his palm. Still, no reason for standards to flag: His fifth line is, if anything, the most painstakingly scripted of all.
Though by then, he's really starting to feel it in his forearm. His gaze flicks back to Liem's face. ]
[As neat and carefully-scripted as each subsequent line is, it’s Matt’s immediate focus and earnest attention to his task that pleases Liem the most. It wasn’t flattery when he said that Matt takes instruction well; when he’s being compliant, when he wants to do as he’s asked, it shows just as starkly as the words he’s inking onto the page. Anticipation soaks through Liem with the slow, dawning thrill of an ocean tide discovering it has the ability to sway the moon in its orbit.
But he watches Matt’s progress patiently, noting the slight tremble in his arm, the painstaking deliberation with which he finishes the fifth line. He’s been very diligent with his task, and Liem nods slightly, satisfied, in answer to his question.]
You certainly may.
[He leans his hip against the edge of the desk, giving Matt a moment to place down the weight before his arm turns to cooked spaghetti. Then, bending down slightly, he takes Matt’s jaw in his fingertips and gently tilts his face up toward his. His voice is a low murmur.]
[ Ah. Now Matt can melt. He sighs as Liem takes his jaw, the touch so light it feels like half his imagination. ]
I'm good. [ His gaze drops to Liem's hip where it rests, then slides up the lines of his body, column of his spine to the dark pools of his eyes. Matt smiles. ] I like when you're pleased with me. It feels very ...
I feel safe.
[ There's a slight uptick to this last remark, as if Matt's wavering between a period and question mark. Before a few minutes ago, he wouldn't have thought to say as much. He wouldn't have thought he needed it. Now, though, the desire is clarifying itself, like a flashlight that illuminates more of your path as you walk it. ]
[Whatever he might say in praise of discipline or restraint, there’s no way Liem could ever judge Matt for seeking intimacy because of his gem. His emerald isn’t acting up even a little right now, and he’s still only a hair away from throwing out his plans for the rest of the evening and just delivering Matt’s preposterous quantity of birthday kisses two weeks early. It’s distractingly difficult to think about withholding anything from him with the skin of his jaw warm beneath Liem’s fingertips, and their faces mere inches apart. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, to trace the planes and angles of Matt’s face with his lips so he can be sure he remembers them all, to spirit him out of this study and think about nothing but inscribing his devotion over his body. It would be shamefully easy, in fact. The only thing keeping him from changing his mind here and now is that this current iteration of their evening was Matt’s idea.
So although the pad of his thumb glides consideringly along Matt’s lower lip, he doesn’t lean in and kiss him. Yet. And although his expression softens, he doesn’t say what he thinks—that pleased with Matt feels like his natural state, that he falls into it as easily as breathing. Yet.]
That’s good.
[Now he does dip closer, just enough to brush his lips against Matt’s temple. His breath plays softly over his ear when he speaks again.]
I could hardly fail to be pleased with you, Matt—not when you’ve made such a diligent effort for me. And you do have plenty of practice with diligence, don’t you?
[Because wasn’t his diligence one of the first things Liem noted about him after they first met? And didn’t they agree that it was an eminently attractive quality?]
[ Matt inhales, slight but sharp, as Liem's thumb traces his lip. He doesn't otherwise move, not even when Liem leans in to place a cool kiss on his temple--when he speaks so softly into his ear.
Matt's smile brightens at the mention of diligence. He remembers that moment, of course, and almost feels guilty--obviously Liem doesn't really think he literally can't control himself, or whatever Matt's insecurities were piping up to say. Was it shitty of him to even think it? But after a moment (steady breath, soft and draping shoulders, Liem's nearness), Matt figures it's just a feeling. Information. The information is he's a mess right now, but he doesn't need to judge himself. Just let what is, be. ]
I do have that. Yeah. [ Breathed. ] It's hard to know how to direct it, sometimes, when I feel like this. That's why I need you.
[Liem brushes another kiss against Matt’s cheekbone, lips curving in a smile in response to the breathed reply. He takes quiet relish in the opportunity to provide something that Matt feels like he needs—to take the responsibility from him for a little while, to give him a break from himself. In a way, it’s grounding for Liem as well; he’s always done best when he has a clear goal by which to orient himself.]
And I’m glad to be of service. I intend to take good care of you.
[His thumb slides against Matt’s cheek as he dips a little lower, finally claiming his lips with a soft kiss. When he pulls away, it’s only far enough so that he can see his face.]
I’d like to give you a little more of a challenge, Matt—an excuse to exercise your focus, and to impress me further.
[This is, he thinks, a chance for Matt to flex his muscles doing something he’ll be good at. This is Liem providing direction for his diligence, and setting him up for success.]
If I’m using a toy on you, will you still be able to follow my instructions and do a good job?
[ Embarrassingly, or at least prematurely, when Liem's lips touch his Matt makes a stuck little sound. He already sounds so desperate. Is that the sapphire, or is it him? Given how he usually feels around Liem, Matt suspects it's a moment of felicitous convergence.
He tries to push the thoughts of the gem to one side, insofar as he can. He focuses on Liem--his face, his nearness, the questions and instructions he may offer. At the toy question, a brilliant smile overtakes his face. He looks not unlike a debutante who's finally been asked to dance, which is great because that's how he feels. ]
Yes, [ he murmurs. A slight pause, and he admits, ] Depends on the toy. But yes.
[Gods—he’s barely touched Matt, and already he sounds so eager. Lust sparks in Liem’s belly, demanding and overwarm, fed by that little wanting noise. The urge to coax out more just like that sinks its claws into him, but he’s wary of feeding that spark too well, of letting it grow too hot. He can’t let go of himself when he’s the one who’s meant to be in control.
For now, he focuses on Matt’s answers, on considering how best to explore his limits without overwhelming them. That smile is pleasing, though—it’s promising. Liem reflects it softly back, small and secretive, as he straightens up again.]
That’s good. Let’s find out, then.
[He releases Matt’s jaw, pushes gently away from the desk.]
I’d like to keep the challenge manageable for you, so we’ll start slow. Strip for me, please.
[He slides open another drawer, and this time he takes out some items that definitely don’t belong in the desk of anyone expecting to do actual work: first a bottle of lube, then a butt plug. Last to emerge is a little remote that somehow manages to be both innocuous and extremely conspicuous.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
No. Just Liem.
[It's not that he has an aversion to titles or nicknames, but ultimately he finds that he still prefers the name on Matt's lips to be his.
For now he makes a note in his phone, and heads upstairs to make use of the hour he's allotted himself. He has preparations to make.]
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See you in 59 minutes
[ It takes Matt about ten minutes to get home, five to eat, and ten more to shower and brush his teeth. He doesn't have time for more ritual than that; a spritz of cologne has to stand in for incense and ablutions. He layers on clothes that are warm, but easy to remove: an undershirt and soft sweater and lounge pants that close with a drawstring. Back on go the coat, scarf, gloves, and woolen cap, and Matt's back out the door into snowy Sumarlok.
He actually ends up at Liem's door with a few minutes to spare. He rereads the messages, verifying both the terms of his arrival and the timestamp of Liem's "in one hour" message.
At exactly 60 minutes, Matt knocks on the door. His smile is secretive and pleased, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. ]
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When Matt knocks, Liem is waiting in the sitting room, staring meditatively at the bonsai tree he received for his birthday. He glances at the time, gets up and answers the door promptly, noting with a smile that Matt isn’t exactly breathing like someone who just hustled up the porch stairs without another moment to spare.]
Matt—you’re right on time. Come in.
[He steps aside to allow him entry, gesturing to the racks and hooks where he can deposit his outerwear. Although his expression is warm, he notably doesn't touch Matt as he ushers him in and waits for him to divest himself of his winter clothes.]
Are you ready? Do you need anything before we begin?
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[ Said with a small, sweet smile, as Matt nudges at his shoes and shucks his coat off. Though he's a little off balance already. He's taking his cues from Liem's body language, keeping a slight distance, but he's so used to touching him: kissing him hello, stroking his ears or the streak of gray at his temples, embracing. Maybe it's silly, but Matt already misses it.
Perhaps if he's good, Liem will oblige him later. ]
I don't think so, [ Matt decides, in answer to the question. ] I'm hydrated and everything. [ He unwinds his scarf from his neck, draping it atop his coat where it hangs. ] Thanks for doing this.
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[Liem smiles as he watches Matt hang up his scarf, pleased with the answer he’s given. He waits until Matt is completely finished hanging up his belongings and he has his full attention before speaking again.]
Well, the front hall is hardly an inviting place to speak. Follow me.
[He turns and leads Matt upstairs, up to the top floor, which houses the bedrooms. Instead of turning up the hall to the master bedroom, however, Liem takes him into one of the smaller rooms—one that has been converted into a tidy and polished study. Inside is a wall of bookshelves, a writing desk and a straight-backed wooden chair, and a cushioned seat tucked into one corner next to a small end table.
Liem walks to the desk and turns so he can lean back against it while he looks at Matt. He gestures at the cushioned chair across the room.]
Take a seat. [It’s a nice chair, every bit as lovely as the ones in the sitting room downstairs. He won’t be sitting in it for long.] So—you asked me to keep you in line. Before we begin, tell me what that doesn’t mean to you. Is there anything you’d like to avoid?
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You'd think he'd have learned by now to be wary of fastidious office setups. ]
Oh, thanks. [ He smiles as he takes a seat, perched on the edge of the cushion. Liem has never been precious about his nice furniture, only (in Matt's view) appropriately careful, but a lifetime of parental conditioning will likely take a few more visits to soften.
Matt's sock-clad toes nudge at the floor, a small distracting gesture as he ponders the question. ]
I think ...
Hm.
Well, I'm generally good with following orders, being patient, being used as furniture, restraints of most kinds. I think some kinds of humiliation might be a no-go? Like, I like being called a slut, but not if you really mean it.
Does that help at all?
no subject
I’m not planning to humiliate you, but I’ll keep that in mind.
[He offers a gentle, reassuring smile. Matt asked for his help today, so no, humiliation isn’t on the menu. This is meant to be a positive experience—a learning experience. There’s surely no reason why he would need to be suspicious of office settings in a context like this one.]
How do you feel about toys?
[Absolutely, definitely no reason.]
And before we start, be good and remind me of your safe words.
no subject
His smile widens slightly at the mention of toys. ]
Oh, yeah, I love them. I mean--you've seen my space. [ All those aesthetically arranged shelves. ] Anything I have, I'm good at being used on me. Insertables, wax, wartenberg wheel, feathers and ice.
And my safe words are colors, [ he adds promptly. ] Green for good, keep going, yellow for not sure or slow down, red for stop.
no subject
Good.
[He pushes away from the desk, crossing the room to where Matt is perched on the cushioned chair. Slowly Liem leans down, bracing one hand on the armrest next to Matt as he draws closer, stopping barely more than a breath away. With his other hand, he reaches past Matt and retrieves a small stack of plain white paper from a rack on a nearby shelf.
He straightens with the paper in hand.]
Let’s begin, then.
[Returning to the desk, he plops the paper down atop it and gestures at the wooden seat in front of it. A keen observer might note the decidedly un-ergonomic design and identify the chair as originating from Liem’s dining room.]
Come here and sit.
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--And then Liem reaches past him, and Matt gives a sigh that's not quite heavy enough for a laugh. It isn't until Liem straightens up, and Matt sees what he has, that he gets his first stomach-flip of genuine déjà vu.
No way. ]
Ah ...
[ Matt's not about to protest. But he does have some questions? Like what exactly do you and Simon talk about? At Liem's encouragement, Matt rises like a pliant ghost and crosses to the wooden chair. He sits. ]
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Now, while you’re in my care, we will be using our time constructively.
[He opens one of the desk drawers and withdraws a rather fancy pen—a thoughtful birthday gift from Simon, who doesn’t have to know about this use for it, but would probably approve if he did. Now standing straight-backed next to the desk, he looks down at Matt.]
Regardless of one’s vocation, discipline is vital to nurture. It allows one to exercise restraint, and to persevere in the face of adversity. It is one of the virtues that separates civilized beings from creatures of instinct—from beasts.
[Sliding the top sheet of paper closer, he writes a line on it in flowing, perfectly even script, then turns the page so Matt can easily read it: I will not allow myself to be ruled by my desires. Crisply, he places the pen atop the untouched stack of paper.]
Copy it.
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Matt's feeling a lot of feelings right now. The first, and most immediate, is that Liem sounds really good saying all this, like some kind of sexy bowtie-wearing professor. The second is a hot flush over the line on the page. But the third ...
Well, Matt picks up the pen. But he can't help hedging: ]
It seems like a difference, more than a virtue versus deficit. Anything in excess is a problem--even discipline.
[ But Matt doesn't want to make an actual sticking point of this when it's all for fun. And when he personally feels as though he's suffering from the opposite of discipline. He starts to write: I will not ... ]
no subject
That’s an intriguing point you raise—though I must note that in order for there to be a difference, you would first need to demonstrate that you have discipline. You certainly aren’t in danger of suffering from an excess of it.
[Turning for a moment to regard the wall of shelves, he reaches out and hefts a large, spherical paperweight. He walks around the back of Matt’s chair to stand on his non-dominant side.]
You should know that every time you talk back to me, I’m going to take it as a sign that your current task is too comfortable for you.
Hold out your arm. Palm up.
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Part of him can't help but wonder what else Liem will throw at him if he raises another counterpoint. How many paperweights does he own?
Matt continues allow myself to be ruled by. His handwriting isn't as perfect as Liem's--he's accustomed to sketching magical diagrams, but sigils are more of an art than a science. Still, he's making an effort to be neat. His left hand, meanwhile, lifts off the desk, palm turned up.
My desires. ]
no subject
Don’t move your arm, and don’t let it touch the desk.
[Stepping back, Liem regards Matt’s progress from over his shoulder. He inspects the completed line with a small tsk.]
A valiant first effort, Matt—but I know you can do better. Presentation is important. Think of this as an opportunity to impress me.
[Doesn’t he want to impress him? Or at least be obedient enough to re-earn the free use of his other hand?]
Try again.
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Again it is.
The paperweight is heavier than he expected, but it has a cool, reassuring heft in his hand. For the moment, it's simple enough to hold his arm in place as he writes. At the end of the sentence, Matt flicks a glance up to Liem--partly for his assessment of Matt's penmanship, but partly ...
Well, the lack of discipline thing has to be just for sexy games, right? Liem said he wasn't looking to humiliate him. Matt figures whatever he can read in Liem's face will help him figure out how to proceed. ]
no subject
When Liem looks back at the page, a smile steals gently over his features.]
Very good, Matt. I am impressed, and not just by your penmanship—you take instruction very well.
[That’s really the point of the exercise: to give him the opportunity to follow instructions, and to give Liem the chance to reward him with something nice. Speaking of—]
Why don’t you give me another three lines just like that, for an even five? If you do, I’ll be able to reward you for your hard work.
no subject
On the one hand. Matt does love a stern, cool, bossy Liem.
But even more than that, Matt loves seeing a stern, cool, bossy Liem soften just a little bit. Just enough for him to catch it in the corners of his smile. And when he starts in with things like good and reward and the particularly intoxicating you take instruction very well ...
Well, he doesn't melt exactly. (He couldn't without dropping the paperweight.) But his smile flickers a bit wider, and the set of his shoulders relaxes.
Matt starts on a third iteration of the sentence, lashes drooping as he focuses. By the beginning of the fourth, his hand has started to tremor slightly, borne down by the weight in his palm. Still, no reason for standards to flag: His fifth line is, if anything, the most painstakingly scripted of all.
Though by then, he's really starting to feel it in his forearm. His gaze flicks back to Liem's face. ]
May I put it down?
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But he watches Matt’s progress patiently, noting the slight tremble in his arm, the painstaking deliberation with which he finishes the fifth line. He’s been very diligent with his task, and Liem nods slightly, satisfied, in answer to his question.]
You certainly may.
[He leans his hip against the edge of the desk, giving Matt a moment to place down the weight before his arm turns to cooked spaghetti. Then, bending down slightly, he takes Matt’s jaw in his fingertips and gently tilts his face up toward his. His voice is a low murmur.]
How are you faring?
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I'm good. [ His gaze drops to Liem's hip where it rests, then slides up the lines of his body, column of his spine to the dark pools of his eyes. Matt smiles. ] I like when you're pleased with me. It feels very ...
I feel safe.
[ There's a slight uptick to this last remark, as if Matt's wavering between a period and question mark. Before a few minutes ago, he wouldn't have thought to say as much. He wouldn't have thought he needed it. Now, though, the desire is clarifying itself, like a flashlight that illuminates more of your path as you walk it. ]
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So although the pad of his thumb glides consideringly along Matt’s lower lip, he doesn’t lean in and kiss him. Yet. And although his expression softens, he doesn’t say what he thinks—that pleased with Matt feels like his natural state, that he falls into it as easily as breathing. Yet.]
That’s good.
[Now he does dip closer, just enough to brush his lips against Matt’s temple. His breath plays softly over his ear when he speaks again.]
I could hardly fail to be pleased with you, Matt—not when you’ve made such a diligent effort for me. And you do have plenty of practice with diligence, don’t you?
[Because wasn’t his diligence one of the first things Liem noted about him after they first met? And didn’t they agree that it was an eminently attractive quality?]
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Matt's smile brightens at the mention of diligence. He remembers that moment, of course, and almost feels guilty--obviously Liem doesn't really think he literally can't control himself, or whatever Matt's insecurities were piping up to say. Was it shitty of him to even think it? But after a moment (steady breath, soft and draping shoulders, Liem's nearness), Matt figures it's just a feeling. Information. The information is he's a mess right now, but he doesn't need to judge himself. Just let what is, be. ]
I do have that. Yeah. [ Breathed. ] It's hard to know how to direct it, sometimes, when I feel like this. That's why I need you.
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And I’m glad to be of service. I intend to take good care of you.
[His thumb slides against Matt’s cheek as he dips a little lower, finally claiming his lips with a soft kiss. When he pulls away, it’s only far enough so that he can see his face.]
I’d like to give you a little more of a challenge, Matt—an excuse to exercise your focus, and to impress me further.
[This is, he thinks, a chance for Matt to flex his muscles doing something he’ll be good at. This is Liem providing direction for his diligence, and setting him up for success.]
If I’m using a toy on you, will you still be able to follow my instructions and do a good job?
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He tries to push the thoughts of the gem to one side, insofar as he can. He focuses on Liem--his face, his nearness, the questions and instructions he may offer. At the toy question, a brilliant smile overtakes his face. He looks not unlike a debutante who's finally been asked to dance, which is great because that's how he feels. ]
Yes, [ he murmurs. A slight pause, and he admits, ] Depends on the toy. But yes.
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For now, he focuses on Matt’s answers, on considering how best to explore his limits without overwhelming them. That smile is pleasing, though—it’s promising. Liem reflects it softly back, small and secretive, as he straightens up again.]
That’s good. Let’s find out, then.
[He releases Matt’s jaw, pushes gently away from the desk.]
I’d like to keep the challenge manageable for you, so we’ll start slow. Strip for me, please.
[He slides open another drawer, and this time he takes out some items that definitely don’t belong in the desk of anyone expecting to do actual work: first a bottle of lube, then a butt plug. Last to emerge is a little remote that somehow manages to be both innocuous and extremely conspicuous.]
Then bend over the desk—legs apart.
fully nsfw in here
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dex save = calculated 15
dungeon master says: get ready for more of that
he's a natural ........... 1
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