Tweak says, "Really really?"
Some Favorite Themes:
Smut: Yes! PWP can be lots of fun, though it can get old. A cohesive story and decent character development can really add some longevity. So both would be nice. That being said, I'm fully committed to writing the whole thing out and put just as much thought and effort into these scenes as I do into anything else. I can fade to black if need be or if there's been too much of that lately. I also tend to prefer romance with my smut.
Likes: Incredibly varied, depending largely on the characters and the settings. Very eclectic tastes. Can write dom/sub/vers.
Auric Lionheart, Archmagus, Archon of Olvios, one of the most revered men in the city, possibly in the country (in name, at least), rode up to the brothel on a simple black horse dressed in nondescript dark riding clothes and a thick woolen cloak. In fact he knew they were nondescript clothes because he'd spent hours tailoring the spell just so to make them entirely forgettable to anyone who saw them. The cloak was an oversight; he'd realized that his bright blonde hair would possibly draw attention in the dark of the night, but hadn't felt like tweaking the spell before he left. He was, in many ways, too much of a perfectionist when it came to magic. Practical matters were another thing entirely, and so anyone with a keen eye could tell from the nap of the wool and the fineness of the stitching that this man had money at his disposal and an eye for quality.
He pulled up his horse at the front of the brothel and slid noiselessly from the saddle. The steed blew through its nose into the cool spring air and Auric took a moment to rub its head; the gesture was more to stall himself than anything, but he realized the foolishness of this. He'd been considering coming here for years and had actually begun his investigation into how to do so secretly months ago. Always there was some delay. Tonight, there would be no more delays. Tonight he would actually try to live.
He passed inside, keeping his hood up, and waited silently until the proprietor approached him. A few whispered words, then a gold coin passed invisibly between their palms. How quaint, he mused, to be out in the world again where money was the only currency that was really needed to make things happen. Within the order, political power had a much more complicated exchange rate. The hooded mage was shown in to the parlor; only years of the most extreme mental discipline kept him from giving any sign of surprise as he realized in what state of dress (or undress) some of the courtesans were waiting. It wasn't that they weren't appealing, but he wasn't expecting them to be so.. on display.
His face hidden completely in shadows, his body only moving when he walked, he was impossible to read as he surveyed the waiting boys and men. Half of them were immediately dismissed in his mind as having no life behind their eyes; they were either high or drunk or too lazy to even bother pretending to be interesting. He hadn't come here looking for anything in particular, but he knew at once when he saw something he wasn't interested in. That still left a large sample and these he began to study more carefully.
There was, of course, the obvious metric of physical appearance, which eliminated a few other options. There was no sign of disease or unhealthiness on any of the courtesans - not at this brothel, to be sure - but there was something nevertheless unwholesome about one or two that made his decision easier, even though he had trouble articulating the specifics. It was down to a handful now and Auric began to really look at them, rather than study them. Almost as soon as he did, it became obvious with whom he would spend his time tonight.
Again the hooded figure exchanged a few whispered words with the proprietor, at which point he was ushered out of the parlor and brought to a suite where he could freshen up. Leaving Auric alone, the man returned to inform the young man that he had been chosen. Auric, meanwhile, didn't quite know what to do; he had bathed before coming over and the ride had been neither long nor strenuous. In the end, he wound up settling himself uncomfortably on an upholstered settee, boots and cloak still on. And waited.
Greg loved this time of year. It was hell on the resort's budget, but that's what the prime seasons were for, to help tide them over. The tourists were barely trickling through their doors, which left the mountain almost deserted, free for his pack to roam. The resort was quiet and that was how he preferred it. He had less to do in the gym, certainly, but when he did stumble upon a sexy guy, it was much easier to make time to play with him.
The hulking brute was there now, dressed in jeans, a warm plaid flannel, and no shoes, but sadly there wasn't a single soul around. He'd already tidied up, even though that wasn't his job, and now he was so hard up for things to do that he was rearranging the furniture in his plush massage suite. Given that it was his resort and his gym and his massage suite, he'd been able to get away with making it larger and far more comfortable than it strictly needed to be. He hardly spent any time in his office, unless he absolutely needed to use his computer or check his files; the suite was more comfortable. His thick biceps bulged as he hefted the table into its new position, that being the last touch. It hadn't really changed anything, but it gave him something new to look at.
Satisfied, he scratched his full dark beard, popped open the mini-fridge that was hidden behind a curtain, and snagged a beer, then flopped onto the plush sofa that was, theoretically, meant for consultations. There was a plasma TV on the wall, again "theoretically" meant for use during therapy (playing meditative music and relaxing visuals), but it was also hooked into the resort's satellite and he happily flipped through the hundreds of channels, looking for something to pique his interest.
Phoenix Will Rise
Character A is better known as Phoenix, a highly trained magical agent. He's got more potential than most when it comes to magical crises, but he's low on field experience and he's not invincible. Sometimes a problem needs wisdom, brute force, and a strategic mind. That's why the Chief assigned Character B to be Phoenix's partner and bodyguard. Together, they will travel the world, growing closer as they learn how best to work together.
[Really only interested in playing A for this one.]
Club Fur - Werewolf line
Character A made a habit of going to the town's only gay bar and trolling for dates. It wasn't so much that he preferred humans, but being the only gay wolf in his pack didn't leave him with a lot of options. But he's grown fond of the sexy young men he can find there, and they're plenty fond of him. When he sets his sights on Character B, the new guy, however, he struggles to control the primal urges he feels. Fortunately, B seems to be just as eager to get to know him.
[This line was abandoned; I played A and would actually prefer to play A again, but could also play B.]
A Summoner's Journey - FFX fandom
Generations before the events of FFX, Spira is in the midst of an unusually long Calm, leading many to believe Sin will never rise again and causing more to doubt the need for summoners. Still, Character A has dedicated his life to proving that he is capable and has just petitioned the Guardian Enclave for the service of one of their members, Character B, as he sets out on his pilgrimage to earn the trust and service of the Aeons.
[Prefer to play A. Will play B for the right person.]
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