kingdomsofrain | tfln open post

So [...]

[...]

[...]

I guess we're a thing.

[...]

Did you like that? That was smooth, right? Very casually played.

[...]

We're a thing, right?

Dear, dear, I’m afraid I wear my nefariousness on my sleeve. Compatible or not, it precedes me wherever I may go.

Hm! The hay and dirt will simply have to learn to accommodate my presence.

As will the forest. Will you take me on a moonlit walk, Jack? Is that part of the all-inclusive Puppy package?

Inquiring minds wish to know. Inquiring minds implore consideration toward its admittance. I am greedy to see you in silver again.

You, my Puppy.

You, my Jack. My partner-in-not-crime in this thing we have—

For it is a thing, Jack. We are a thing, or at least I wish to take the liberty of saying so. And I do feel it.

‘It.’ An impression settled deep within my blood. A longing to see you, and a certainty - grown stronger still each hour - that I require the knowledge of you, and your presence.

Your voice, and your caress. (And, well, let’s not neglect that tongue of yours, hm?)

Am I then your— ~~If the term doesn’t seem ill-fitting~~ ~~Your~~ ~~I’m not certain anyone would think to apply the word to a man of my habits, my years, my~~ [ … ] Your boyfriend, Jack?

Are you then my own?

A novel term. A prospect I find I desire.

Edited 2021-12-20 20:45 (UTC)

Come to me, Puppy.

I believe it’s become clear that I intend to join you tonight, but you’ve surmised aptly: my mind is ever-churning creativities (particularly of the nefarious sort!), and I’ll have something else for you to beg within the hour.

Let me see your pleas, my Jack.

[ … ]

My [ … ] boyfriend. (?)

There’s a pair of parking spaces waiting for you.

;)

I'm going to tell you something, and I mean this with all the fondness I possess, from the very bottom of my heart:

You are a massive dork.

[...]

Adorkable.

[...]

Which is, as you know, the best possible quality in a boyfriend.

I'm on my way. If someone parks in my spots before I get there, don't get any ideas about taking a swing at them. I've got dibs on that cane in perpetuity.

About all that nefariousness.

Have you paid the mayor a visit?

Letting my folks know they're off the hook for half of what's owed would go a long way towards endearing you to them. I haven't told them anything about yesterday; you could play it off as generosity with a little artistic license.

Is that any way to speak to the man you’re meant to kneel before?

…

…

Well.

From you, Jack, it doesn’t sound so ill at all. And just as I am your boyfriend, so you may consider me your dork, and yours alone.

I’d ask you to keep this little secret between ourselves, but in the first place, I don’t believe you would reveal my deep ~~dork~~ ~~dark~~ dork secret, and in the second—

Well. Who could possibly believe you? This knowledge is your burden to bear, and yours alone!

I believe you’re up to the task of its shouldering. ;)

Regarding the rest— As it happens, at 1:00 this afternoon, Mayor Mills is scheduled to meet with one Desmond Gold, recently - to her understanding - given cause for discomfort. I won’t guess what she expects; whatever it may be, you and I both know the inevitable outcome. Given that I am uncompromising, and a certain man of my knowing - most admirable! (and devilishly resplendent!) - took such care in securing documentation.

You may expect a thorough update once I’ve finished with her.

[ … ]

Shall I tell her, do you think, with whom I will have lunched? ;) :) 😌

I'll bear this burden with all due discretion and solemnity. No one will know. No one can know. This is catastrophic, world-destroying information. It's the kind of knowledge that's just too powerful.

It's got to be locked up with the holy grail, the ark of the covenant, and the aliens in Area 51.

[...]

I'm up to a lot of tasks. Shoulders, knees, head, and toes. ;)

(That was supposed to be innuendo, but I have no idea what it means. Open to interpretation!)

[...]

You could tell her the who and the what. 🙃 I'll even show you another party trick just to give it a little more obscenity.

[...]

You know, that whole plan of hers ("plan") was just about the dumbest thing anyone's ever put me up to.

That's up to and including the bunny costume last Easter.

That's not fair.

About the bunny costume.

I made a cool five hundred off of that one. Maybe 'ridiculous' is the word I'm looking for, there.

We'll begin working out that interpretation when you arrive; an endeavor I avidly anticipate.

An endeavor liable to span— Oh, weeks. Months. Time untracked beyond its bounds? Time in which I mean to interpret every inch of you. 😌

And learn the measure of all your party tricks.

The drift of which I mean to convey to Mayor Mills. It will do her good - don't you think? - to know what happiness blooms within her town. To know that even in this sorry pocket of nowhere, joy may find its hold.

In spite of ill-advised, badly made plans. In spite of efforts to meddle that will not be forgotten. In spite of crimes against a young man whose heart burns truer than any our mayor has ever known.

[ ... ]

She's won't reach you again, Puppy.

I won't allow it.

A rabb

What were you doing in a

Oh no, no, I see.

An odd thought experiment, to envision that costume. You'll see the problem, though: I consider you more puppy than bunny, and find it impossible to imagine a cotton tail upon you.

Well. Puppy you may be, but I expect you made a better-than-passable rabbit. ;)

Are you happy?

I like that. I like going through my day thinking you're happy because of me.

[...]

Because you're with me. This 'thing'.

I don't think anyone's ever put me down as the cause of their joy. [...] Unless you're just going to say that to get under her skin.

Shit.

[...]

The obscenity itself isn't much of a party trick. ~~More of an add-on package.~~ I'm bringing honey.

You have my blessing to tell her I was willing to lick it off anything you put in my mouth.

No specifics necessary.

There's the trick. ;) Fun, right?

Question.

Not that I mind being considered your puppy.

It's pretty clear I don't mind that at all. 🐕

[...]

But why are you imagining any kind of tail on me? If you want something to tug on ~~reach around to the f~~ there's always a leash.

No; no leashes for you.

Never.

You are [ ... ] dearer to me than that.

And I believe we can both think of something else that might do with a tug. 😌

A ~~caress~~ ~~deft touch~~ stroke?

Both, I think.

A collar might be a different matter entirely. More freedom of movement, with a claim equally clear. [ ... ] If my Puppy weren't opposed.

As for the tail, you've caught me in a bind: I confess I hadn't considered the actuality of any tail, rabbit, puppy, or otherwise. And I think we both know that your assets are perfectly pleasing without any additions. ;)

Shall I visit the mayor scenting of honey?

I like this plan better and better. 😌

And I am happy, Jack. With or without honey, the thought of you sustains my day. I find myself grinning at odd moments; I find my eyes caught upon my fingers, where still your kisses burn. I feel the linger of your touch across me, and am at once utterly satisfied and in dire, dire need for more.

~~Tease tease tease TEASE TEASE~~

A tug and a stroke. What could that be?

[...]

My hair.

[...]

Your hair.

[...]

Your hand in both of mine.

[...]

My ego? No, you've stroked that pretty well.

I won't say I haven't been asked to wear a collar before.

People can ask.

People are often on the wrong end of disappointment.

[...]

You might not be.

[...]

I don't

The thing is

I'm scar

[...]

Ask me again in a week or two?

The thing is.

You've only known me a few days, in very specific circumstances. Maybe outside of those circumstances, something will come up. You talk about long-term ideas without considering how shitty I can be, or whether you'll still find something worthwhile in me when the novelty wears off.

Maybe I won't be so [...] dear to you.

~~Am I?~~

My longest relationship, either in days counted consecutively or non-consecutively, was one week.

A week isn't very long, generally, but for me and [...] men who are not so dear to me as present company, it's the best I've been able to do [...] get.

If you can make it past the seven-day mark with me, I'll wear any collar you can get your beautiful hands on.

Happily.

Assuming it's tasteful if it's not expressly for private use.

Jack. It’s no fault of yours that this town belongs to lapsing moralists, their imaginations constrained within white-picket banality.

None of them, Puppy, are worthy of what you are.

None of them have seen what you are, or else they never could have given you over.

This town is rotten with myopia.

Jack. I don’t believe there’s a circumstance in the world that could take my interest from you. (I don’t take to surface shine. I don’t pursue what lacks lasting potential.) And as for any potential or hypothetical ‘shittiness’ on your part— Don’t forget, Puppy, that I’ve seen some measure of the brat that you can be. I’ve sensed flashes of your fangs. And as it happens, I believe both rather suit you.

Or in any case, it suits me. I don’t trust a person who won’t let loose at least a little trouble, hm?

I speak all of this because I know my own mind, and my own habits. But if, Jack, I chase too far ahead of myself, if I chase too far ahead of you, know that I am a man possessed of infinite patience, even in regards to what I most would like.

Certainly, I can wait seven days, or fourteen days, or three times as many for the asking of that collar.

Between this day and then, I have plenty of ways to show you that you're mine.

~~Do I mistake you, or~~

At the risk of exposing some measure of ignorance, or of a failure in myself to catch hold of a joke—

It hadn’t occurred to me that you might [ … ] wear any such thing publicly.

I think I’d like that.

Would you care to

[ ... ]

I find I like the thought of it.

In seven days, or seventy.

[ There's a delay, followed by a link to a photo of a day collar. ]

For the sake of clarity, I meant this for public wear. Discrete, identifiable by anyone in the know, and not likely to chafe.

(Perfect for a brat.)

No, I'm not likely to wear a big studded dog collar while going about my everyday business.

[...]

Here's an interesting question to consider: assuming we make it past seven days (or however long your patience holds), and you manage to get a collar around my neck, what do I get?

Or rather, what will you wear, to show my claim? A collar doesn't seem appropriate at all.

[...]

But I like the thought of a show of [...] [...] commitment, maybe.

To your Puppy, I mean.

No, I mean 'to me'

But this is all just hypothetical. I'm

It's

You're getting carried away, and it's hard not to let myself get caught up in it

I'm

Edited 2021-12-22 03:34 (UTC)

It's all hypothetical. You don't have to answer.

Don't worry; I'm not asking for anything more than what you've given already. I'm happy, Desmond.

And I'm leaving now - sorry for the delay there. Ten minutes. :)

Ask whatever you like.

Ask always for more; Jack, you may always ask for more, and speak whatever wish possesses you. This is the right of my Puppy; the right of my brat.

Regarding the question at hand, it’s no less than fair play that I should wear a sign in kind.

And it is another proposition I find pleasing. (Shall I tell you? You spoke of what you'll get, of what I might display, and I knew a shock along my spine. Remarkable, the things you do to me.) My inexperience prevents certainty of suggestion, but do you think a ring? A bracelet? Cufflinks, perhaps.

We'll find something suitable, Puppy. I insist on it.

 When we make it past those seven days. 😌

Studs wouldn’t suit you in the least. You’re subtler than that, I think.

You’d look well in a silver chain. A permanence of moonlight caught upon you.

(Silver for me, as well, I think. Why should we not be forever joined in moonlight?)

I await your arrival - and your pleading eyes - eagerly.

And I tell you again: Never fear to ask anything of me. There is precious little I wouldn't give.

[ 1:31 p.m.]

[...]

So, how did it go? :)

Edited 2021-12-23 03:49 (UTC)

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