Blue Lions Sex Place - Ch 1

[warmskies]

"And that is work done for the day!" Hilda announces, one warm and early afternoon, draping herself across Claude's shoulders until her breasts are pressed against his back.

It's not unusual for Hilda to decry work pretty early (and sometimes get out of it, too, depending on how well she's managed to divvy out duties), Claude can't help raising his eyebrow in amusement. This is pretty early even be her standards.

Despite what many people think, Hilda doesn't do things for no reason. It's her best kept secret - she's in fact very clever and smart. But that would put a lot onto her that she doesn't want, and, frankly, Claude can't really find fault with how she executes her choices. If anything, he'd say it's the best use of her intelligence towards people and what they want to do. And, since he really can't think of anything he's doing that can't wait until tomorrow... "Well, if you say so," he says, wondering how on earth he factors into this. "Got somewhere really special to be, Hilda?"

For his questioning, he gets a wink. "No, but you do!"

And she then proceeds to say nothing else on the matter. All Hilda does is grab him for a ride through the rails system , which is another peculiarity that can be added to the day. Normally, both of them prefer a more scenic aerial view via pegasi and wyvern rides through the city - whether with their own, or just calling a service up, it doesn't really matter.

The rails system, however? That's underground, hitting up all the major areas of the city... and is thus pretty handy for, say, if a best friend wants to occasionally cover your eyes and keep you completely oblivious from where, exactly, you're going.

Just one problem that Hilda didn't consider.

"Now approaching Stop: L-12..."

"L-12?" Claude echoes, trying not to be too antsy with his eyes covered; it's not a position of vulnerability he's normally really down with. But for Hilda, he tries. It's just, in exchange for his trying, he's picking up on everything else a lot quicker. "Isn't that up in the northern part of town? Now where oh where could you be taking me that's up there, Hilda?"

A small huff of annoyance tickles along the side of his neck, against the back of his ear. "Honestly... It only figures you're the kind of person who's memorized every single rail stop number." Her palms slide away from his eyes, and the tightening in his chest eases up as the light of the rail car forces a couple of blinks. That's fine; he'll take that deal so long as he can see around him. "Besides, even if you're asking, I bet you already have an idea of where we're going."

She sounds like she's sulking, but there's a smile on her lips when he turns his head to look down at her, both of their hands holding onto a pole. "I mean, there are a few places we could be going... But if you've been trying to hide even the stop this entire time, isn't it rather fitting if our grand destination ends up being the grand Path of Heavens?"

"Oooooh my goddess, you sound like some pencil pusher during a commissioner's meeting when you put it like that! But yes, we're heading toward's Annas!"

Maybe he should feel a little bit mean for taking the surprise out of Hilda's whole thing she's doing, but she obviously doesn't seem to mind too much. All Claude can do is laugh, and loop their arms together as they step off of the rail car into Heavens Station.

Some people love to make jokes about that little name, of course. He would know, because him and Hilda have made plenty of them - "a little death at Heavens Station". Low hanging fruit can still be delicious.

As they step up the stairs and a few of the tunnels that make up the station, it's already clear as day what a difference there is in Annas than there is in any other station in the city. Everywhere has a discreet shop or two, of course. Sometimes they're for the heavy stuff, but, more commonly, they're in case someone needs to grab a quick sex toy. Often they're even a little cafe where there skirts are too high and the shirt collars too low. That kind of thing.

But in Annas, there's not much reason to hide anything. It takes a couple minutes walking before it becomes obvious, sure, just in case anyone a tad too young has ended up on the wrong car down the wrong tunnel....

But then the signs come out in full force, depicting all sorts of sexual acts, revealing clothing boutiques, and specialty clubs for anyone with a slightly more specific taste. There are even a couple of quickie holes that they pass by, whether those who just want to indulge in a little glory hole fun with strangers, or cafes where what was on the menu wasn't just food. Mostly, however, it's stores selling slightly more involved toys or gear than could be found in any other station.

Everyone knows the real fun is topside, after all.

It's always a nice feeling for him, stepping out from underneath the rail tunnels and into the wide open space of the city streets. Claude stretches his arms up over his head, humming. "There we go..." Of course, riding in on wyvernback would have been far better, but obviously Hilda would never had let that happen. "Man, if you'd let me know ahead of time, I could have really dressed up for this..."

Already he's starting to feel sort of outclassed here... All he has on him are the things he wore to work, which would be a rolled up button up, a cloth belt, and, you know, slacks. Shoes. That sort of thing.

But in Annas, anything goes, and fashion is one of the most fun ways to start something up in a bedroom, or even just keep on ahead of time instead of bothering with clumsily changing into something in a bathroom or changing stall. The latex daddies, the leather queens, a couple gathered in front of a cafe that are excitedly showing off their pup masks to each other... The sexy nurses, and the military officers in too tight pants. Even some people who might actually be wearing their work uniforms as they rush through the streets so that they can start serving people in those sexy little maid costumes.

Uuuuugh! If only he'd known, he could have dressed up to really shown off! As he pouts, Hilda just laughs at him and tugs him down the street. "You don't even know what we're doing yet! For all you know, I could have reserved a sexy dinner party at Xochi's!"

Maybe that makes him an exhibitionist, although he's yet to ever really do that sort of exact play before. But it's just so fun... And, well, something else, as Hilda reminds him, "You'd end up freezing in no time flat, considering the kind of things you would probably gravitate towards."

Oh boy. Claude makes a face, following Hilda's lead. She just had to remind him. "Listen, it's not that cold.... yet..." Oh, who is he kidding, and he lets out a long drawn out sigh while she laughs a little more at him. "Well, I guess you have a point. Although does that mean you're taking me somewhere really in the depths of Heaven? We could always grab a bike carriage if it's that far..." And it would probably save their feet some aches, too.

"Eh, I don't know if I wanna mess around with that kind of play," Hilda muses, glancing over to where a muscular guy in itty bitty shorts pumps his legs and takes his clients to wherever they're going. Must be a nice view from where they're sitting in the carriage. "Anyway, it's not that far. I think..." A pause as she considers it. "Actually, you know what, yeah, let's get a carriage!"

Thanks to the wonders of phone apps and a bit of browsing, they soon find a carriage to Hilda's taste. Fortunate, really, that bunny girls with muscular legs are always a big hit no matter what. Or maybe that's just they're a big hit with Hilda, who coos over the view and manages to get a selfie with their biker for the review page. She really was right on her first estimation, however. It really isn't that far at all to the main street along Annas, the place that was once called "the Path to Heaven" and now has the biggest stretch of sex clubs and services in probably the entire continent. Frankly, Claude wouldn't be surprised if it possessed the most concentrated amount of sex in the entire world.

"So here's the deal!" Hilda announces, once she's finished writing up her review for the carriage service. "It's going to be your birthday soon, isn't it? So let's go sightseeing all along Annas' main street, and you can pick out a place you want to spend a night at for your birthday! We'll make all the arrangements today, so that you're good to go then!"

Claude blinks. "Wait... When did you learn it was my birthday coming up?"

"That's really the first thing you thought to ask..." Hilda rolls her eyes, although her smile means the gesture rather lacks any bite to it. "I'd say it's a woman's secret, but I just made sure to ask around a bunch until someone was able to point me in the right direction, and someone else gave me the right answer!" Claude opens his mouth, and Hilda cuts him off. "It was my brother, and Nader, in that order, since I know you'd never be able to focus on the actual sex planning part of tonight if I never told you."

Ah, at least she knows him well. Claude rubs the back of his neck, a little amused at being called out so thoroughly. "Jeez, you really went to all that trouble... I didn't think anyone would pay attention to such a minor detail like that."

"It's your birthday! Try to be a little more excited about it!"

All their silly talk about birthdays, and learning about them, and how important they are, is cut off as they're approached by a cute and sexy nurse who's there to sell them on their own "sexual health center". Claude lets them make the pitch, of course, but he's only paying maybe half attention. His mind is still stuck back on Hilda poking him about how important a birthday celebration is.

Of course she would think that. Even if she's always had a lot of attention, what with the famous brother and naturally attractive appearance and money behind her family name, Claude knows that's not always been a bad thing. When her birthday has come around, no doubt it's been a warm and wonderful celebration.

It's just that, with him, well...

Hilda's voice knocks him out of his own head. "So, what do you think?" Blinking, he looks over the very professional clipboard that their sexy nurse is holding and that Hilda is pointing to. A quick flick back through his memories drudges up some of the sensual examinations that are on offer towards this kind of place. Which, he won't lie, is kind of enticing, but...

"Nah." Claude smiles easy and relaxed, even as he shakes his head. "It looks fun, but I gotta be in a particular mood for that kind of roleplay, you know? Let's keep browsing, Hilda."

And there is plenty to browse through. That's the great thing about Annas, especially on its main street - there are always plenty of people out hawking their services, and how their store or club is the absolute best at whatever it is they're trying to sell. Dildos, vibrators, restraints, and then of course particular kinks themselves, like leather play or only the meanest doms...

After a bit of window shopping, whether through live demonstrations in open windows or brochures handed out or recordings of past sessions, Claude decides on something. "I know you said we were browsing the main street, but I'm not actually limited to what's just on this road, right? We can start delving into the side streets too, right?"

There's a twinkle in Hilda's eye as she glances to him. "Of course you can. I'm not such a penny pincher that I would keep you restricted to whatever is popular here on the main street, would I?"

Of course Hilda isn't a penny pincher; Claude can't think of anyone less deserving of such a title besides Lorenz. So he just laughs at her, and tugs her down along the first side street he sees. There are still plenty of places left to scope out, if he's going to be treated like this, so he really has to make the most of what time he has. Who knows when Hilda will speed along the process or demand that they pick up another carriage?

This is by far not the first time he's stepped into Annas, of course, so it hardly takes any time at all before he's found his way to where he wants to be. "Here we go... I've always been curious about this street," he announces, leaning his shoulder a bit against Hilda's even as she leans against him in turn.

On the main street, everything is flashy and eye catching. It has to be, being one of the first places that a person comes to if they take a lot of the main transports into the district. First impressions can mean a whole lot in the world of business, and Claude has to admit that there's some advantage to being front and center if you can beat out your competitors. Yet there's only so many customers that can get their foot in the door, when a place is so popular and right at the entrance to the district.

All a person has to do is take a turn or two... And voila. They're on one of the many sidestreets of Annas, some of which have their own theme or reputation or specialty. For Claude in particular... He's always wanted to see some of the exclusive clubs that are on display, down one little patch of Annas in particular.

Hilda tilts her head to the side curiously, watching as they pass by one storefront. Here, things are a bit more reserved, with sexual clothing still on display, but things lowered down to something a little more... sensual. The difference between a dick on full display, and a hint of the pelvis as it dips downwards. "Oh, a lot of the clubs here have reputations for all sorts of employees and specific tastes, right? And subscriptions where you can be a repeat customer? I didn't realize you were so horny to be interested in that."

"I mean, aren't you curious too?" Claude asks, chuckling as he pauses to inspect the posters presented in the windows of one club. The kind of place where a lot of women work, it looks like... The way the silk is positioned really is tantalizing and artistic, but it's just not for him, not right now. "I've heard that these kind of clubs really take the time to get to know you..."

"Hey, you know I'm not going to subscribe you to a whole thing when we don't even know if you'll like whatever club we duck into, right?"

That draws another laugh out of him. "Hey, I didn't say that! But you can at least pay for a test session, right?" Really, that's all he would dare to ask for from Hilda, at least for his birthday and this kind of situation. Obviously the ideal would be having test sessions at multiple places, to find the exact one he liked... But part of the service fee means it's a bit more expensive before the monthly or even weekly membership fees go much lower. Discourage people wasting too much of their time for no reason, and all that. So he's not going to pile on all of that spending onto Hilda, even if she is fine with giving him a pricey birthday present.

That means he really does have to make a careful selection, here... and a part of that, he guesses, is accepting brochures from every single person that they pass by. "Are you actually going to keep all of those?" Hilda asks, reaching over to tilt the corner of one down with a single finger.

"No reason not to, right?" Claude says, even as he wonders where he's going to put them all. It's not like he brought a bag with him or anything... Which, his mistake, he guesses, although he wasn't expecting a night out or anything.

Of course, right as he's thinking that, a voice rings out from a short distance ahead of them. "It looks like the two of you got your hands full. Would you be interested in taking a load off, and resting inside a while?" When they look up, they find the speaker in fairly short time: a redhead taller than both of them, with a charming smile on his face and two bottles of water that he's somehow keeping held in one hand - their necks inbetween his fingers. When he's certain that he has their attention, he winks. "There are a lot of choices this fine night, right? No need to rush when it comes to the fine art of sex."

One would never guess that Hilda is a rich young lady as she's immediately drawn in by the promise of free water and a chance to sit down, nevermind what sort of spiel she might have to listen to in the meanwhile. As she gushes and praises her new knight in shining armor for such generosity, bottle already in hand, Claude lets his eyes skim over the guy once again.

Sexuality and sensuality don't always mean things have to be completely stripped of all clothing, or made so skintight that absolutely nothing is left to the imagination. Sometimes, sensuality is in the way a person holds themselves, or the promises of what might come later. And he has to say.... the slick and almost waiter-like get up of this guy manages to do the trick for him. Crisp black slacks to match the waistcoat which hugs his torso in all the right ways thanks to its almost corset-like structure, the brilliant blue tie that's just loose enough around his throat that it could be pulled...

And he's not being too pushy, either. Perfect, honestly. Or, at least, it's a good start. Claude accepts the remaining bottle himself with a smile. "Are you sure we won't be taking up too much space?" he asks. "Wouldn't want to get in the way of your business."

Which is a pretty nice looking business, he has to say. As it suitable for some of the clubs that are around this part of town, it reaches up quite high into the sky, and Claude gets the faint impression of a castle tower stretching up towards the stars. That effect is only helped by the narrow windows which take up the front of the establishment.

Whereas some places around here put up televisions with ads for their services, or sexy posters... There are actually cloth banners on display in the windows, perfectly fitted to just the right dimensions. Each one is a stunning royal blue, with silhouettes painstakingly stitched onto them in white thread that goes from the torso up. There are eight in total, each clearly of a particular individual with different curves or muscles. It's not the most varied set up he's ever seen in his time in Annas... but the style is undeniably intriguing.

In fact, he's pretty sure that the handsome redhead in front of them is one of the people depicted on the banners, although it's hard to say. What's a little more certain is the way he winks at them. "Now what more important business could there be besides making sure the two of you are relaxed and comfortable?" he asks, going to the front doors - large, wooden, very classic - to hold one open. "Besides, don't worry too much about that. If I was really busy, I wouldn't have taken the time to reach out to you!"

Claude is fairly certain that reaching out to them is exactly what helps make this mysterious redhead fill up his schedule... But he has to admit, as he steps through the doors, that it's an effective tactic. It makes someone feel seen, paid attention to, as though they stand out in a crowd... and gets them through the front door, too. Now what are the finishing touches?

Because the presentation is already knocking his socks off, and he gives a small whistle at what he sees just through the entrance. Besides him, Hilda claps her hands excitedly. "Oh, I love this," she gushes as the redhead shuts the door behind them only to stride forward as their guide. "What a classy feel!"

Classy is definitely one way to put it. Claude would say it's the combination between a stylish modern office front desk, and some sort of extravagant castle. A luxurious rug of deep blue and shining gold is stretched out across the room from the doorway leading all the way to a large desk. Its massive curved frame is made out of some dark wood that stands out beautiful compared to the pale stone and tile that seems to make up most of the room, especially the pillars that make up a part of the walls... and the massive curving double staircase whose base the desk sits right in the middle of.

"I didn't think this kind of place existed in Annas of all places," Claude comments, impressed.

"Well, it's been around for a while, probably," the redhead says, laughing a little as he goes to a set of doors to the side. "But over here is the reception room. Make yourselves at home."

Needless to say, the reception room is just as elegant as the front entrance. There's still that very castle-like theme to it, but a little less obvious when there's no massive staircase to really drive it all home. Instead, it's a bit more relaxed, with comfortable looking couches and a beautiful fireplace that's not yet lit - a pity, honestly, although Claude guesses it's not that cold.

What especially draws the eye would be a large coffee table that's positioned right in the center of everything, with an array of different magazines to flip through. Not just sexual magazines, although there are certainly no shortage of those with all the latest issues, but also some things on exercise, gardening, and cooking. An interesting selection to be sure.

What's more interesting to Claude is how it's very clear that the magazines have all been carefully arranged so that what stands out the most would be the binders decorated with a lion emblem on the front, put out in that same brilliant blue. Lions Den is written underneath the emblem, and Claude is fairly certain he caught a glimpse of that name before he and Hilda stepped inside.

"We have a coffee and tea service too, if you're interested in that kind of thing," the redhead says cheerfully. "But it can get a little pricey, so if you're good with water, than I'm good with that. Oh, and by the way... I was so stunned by how lucky I was to get a pair of utter beauties like you that I forgot to introduce myself." Another wink. Claude would judge, except he knows he does it so much himself that it'd be the pot calling the kettle black. "I'm Sylvain."

While Hilda sinks down into a particularly plush looking armchair, Claude winks right back. "Pleasure to meet you, Sylvain." Well, he may as well make a poor guy's job a little easier... And besides, isn't browsing exactly what he's supposed to be doing tonight, at least according to Hilda? "So what kind of specialty does your place favor? Unlike some of the other places me and my friend have been looking at tonight, it was a little hard to tell just from the front..." And, unlike the many other sales people they've met as they've walked through Annas, he hasn't shoved a brochure or pamphlet in their hands to try and hook them in.

"Ah, our specialty is being diverse!" With the offer of tea not being accepted, Sylvain sticks around, although he doesn't take a seat. Instead, he just leans against one of the couches across from them, smiling and relaxed. "Rather, each Lion here at the den specializes in something, and is constantly practicing it to make sure it's always up to par for our more than deserving customers."

Hilda leans back, one leg crossed over the other while she sips at her water. "Oh, that's interesting, although doesn't that mean your clients might have to wait for a really long time to go to the thing that they really want?" In contrast to, say, your average leather daddy kind of place where it's easy enough to find a daddy to take care of you.

No concern is apparent Sylvain's easy roll of his shoulders. "If they really want something in specific that nothing else will do, then they'll go to a specialist club or shop," Sylvain says, and grins. "But the appeal of the Lions Den is not only growing more familiar and fond of the particular specialists we have hired here, but easy access to trying different sort of things within easy reach, while still being with a familiar face. For example..." Pushing himself away from the couch, Sylvain leans over the table to push forward the Lions Den book and flip it open.

Predictably, it's a book dedicated to the various "Lions" of the Den. Claude has a brief moment to see the index with a variety of different names before Sylvain keeps flipping through the pages. From what Claude can tell, there are a few pages with various details on them - things he can't read in time to figure out, but that probably include things like the name, height, and kink specialties - and then a lot more full page spreads depicting each employee, in what look to be a variety of poses and outfits.  You know, when they wear any clothes at all.

The pages Sylvain eventually stops on depict a guy with long, dark hair that sprawls down over his shoulders, and a pair of brilliant amber eyes that seem to pierce out from the pages he's on.

On the left image, it's a close up picture of him peeling a pair of gloves off his hand with his teeth. On the right, he's clearly in nothing but the gloves, and a pair of long thigh high boots whose presence more than makes up for the fact that certain parts of his anatomy are tastefully obscured.

In both pictures, he glares at the camera like it's personally offended him, and he's going to whip it right into shape. It's not a bad expression. Not a bad one at all.

"This is Felix," Sylvain introduces casually. "So let's say you're working on some leather or latex play, or a bit of domination... But you want to expand to something else. Of course, you could go to another business that specializes in temperature play, but that would be doing all the work of finding a good place again, and hoping that you and your partner hit it off... And that the service doesn't suck... And meeting an entirely new person to begin with... Well, it's a lot of work, right?" Sylvain quirks up an eyebrow. "So instead of doing that..."

Another rapid flip through the pages. Sylvain doesn't even appear to need a second's thought on where he's going; Claude has to admit he's impressed. "Why not trust the guy you already know and have a good relationship with, and follow his recommendation of going to our dear Annette? He'll even stick with you for some of the sessions, so you feel perfectly at ease and know you're cared for!"

There, on the pages, is a charming redhead with a shining expression and curling hair that falls just to her shoulders. Instead of clothing, she's wearing a dress composed entirely of rope, with one of pretty teal cupping her breasts perfectly. Inbetween her fingers, she has an cutely shaped ice cube held up to her smiling lips. She's a breath of fresh air, compared to Felix's sharp expression from before.

Ah, Claude gets it. The Lion's Den's specialty isn't any one kink, or fetish, or scenario. Their specialty is themselves, and exploration. Convenience. That's not a bad plan at all. Sure, the specialty joints have their appeal, especially if you're really wild about one thing or another... But not everyone is like that, honestly. So a more general kind of club such as this one is pretty handy, and he can see the attraction.

"What if we want to try something out with a Lion we're a regular with, without going to partner up with someone else?" Claude asks, even though it's really no guarantee that he's going to try this place out once, let alone enough to ever become a regular.

At least the conversation, the interest, seems to be making Sylvain happy... probably. He has a pretty good salesman's smile. "Well, that would depend on you and your favorite Lion... but they're all pretty flexible, if you've really proven yourself to be a fan."

So... Probably something in the paperwork saying that someone has had to be a customer for a certain amount of time before they can go making requests on that, with maybe a clause saying that they can change their minds depending on their individual feelings on the matter... Well, that's just Claude assuming, really. He'd have to actually read the paperwork to make a call one way or the other.

Still, he's here regardless, and it's a bit more engaging than just being spoken to on the street and being shoved a brochure. "So this book has profiles on every one of the Lions?" he asks.

"Yup," Sylvain says, with a heavy pop at the end of the single word. "If you'd like to browse while you relax off of the streets, you're more than welcome to." As though he isn't completely trying to sell them on becoming customers of this place. Still, Sylvain smiles, and nudges the book a little closer to them while still staying on the page of Annette and her adorable shibari outfit.

Well, while they're already there, and Hilda is leaning against his shoulder with her eyes absolutely sparkling at a cute girl in a sexy and cute outfit... Claude takes a look at Annette's profile first by flipping back a couple of pages.

She's a petite little thing, just bursting with bubbly energy judging by the minor interview they include on one page. It goes without saying, of course, but she's a temperature play specialist, along with magic expert. A cute girl tying you up to literally heat you up, no doubt putting any worries to ease with a cheerfuly smile... She's not really Claude's type, but he can see the appeal, especially for those who might need that kind of good energy to get over the anxiety of trying something like that for the first time. And who knows? Maybe he'd change his mind if he met her. While he doesn't really go for temperature play, magic in sex has always been an interesting idea to him, so it's not as though it's a bad match or anything...

There are plenty of others, too, of course, and he flips to the beginning to see all of them. There's Mercedes, the mommy domme, and Ashe, who apparently does really good with sensory deprivation...

And then there's the sound of someone yelling as a body is dragged across the floor, right outside of the waiting room door.

Sylvain is up on his feet almost before Claude can blink, expression blocked with his back to them and showing nothing but that pretty red hair of his. What can Claude say? He's always been too curious for his own good; it's practically a given that he's right behind Sylvain. Sure, sure, if it's too bad, well, he knows how to get himself out of sticky situations... But there's no guarantee that is going to be necessary either.

When the doors open, guided by Sylvain's hands, Claude peers over his shoulder to find quite a sight already. Already past the reception desk and midway down the lobby are three different people.

One of the first, and doing his absolute best to keep up, is what Claude can only describe as a brick wall of a man. No one can beat Raphael when it comes to pure height and width, of course, and Claude is quite proud to say that. And yet this mysterious stranger seems to get quite close, with shoulders that could hold up a wyvern, and muscles defined in all the right ways. Against his dark skin, his silver hair shines bright, and people could probably break their hands against the strength of his jaw. He is, needless to say, incredibly handsome, and Claude would have to say that this guy is definitely his type. What would his profile and given interview say about him, in that book back in the waiting room?

He's following after the other two, and saying, "This really isn't necessary". Despite not yelling, his deep voice seems to rise over the actual yelling quite easily.

All that yelling is courtesy of the other person, and who's being dragged along the ground by the back of their shirt. A real smarmy twink looking guy, with wavy blond hair parted just so and the kind of look in his eyes of someone outraged that something so embarrassing is happening to him - a real prideful kind of glare. Claude listens, tries to get an idea of what's got him so worked up, but there's not much to all his ruckus. Just lots of cursing, and insults, and "how dare you"s.

And the guy responsible for this whole mess? Who Mr. Stacked and Jacked is talking to, and who is dragging Mr. Yells A Lot?

It's a pretty tall guy in his own right, shirtless and in tight leather pants that don't seem to be hindering his long stride at all. Shoulder length blond hair is messy around his face, and the slight bit he can see of that face shows a rather fierce look. An absolute smoldering kind of glare, lips curved over his teeth in a snarl. It probably says a lot about Claude that, honestly, he's kind of attracted to it, and that attraction doesn't fade away in the slightest as the blond yanks open the door to absolutely haul his human-shaped luggage right onto the street.

"Consider yourself banned!" Blondie snarls, fists clenched at his sides. "For saying such disrespectful and revolting things! Prostrate yourself before us, if you ever wish to see the inside of these halls again, but I doubt such cur as yourself have the spine!" Aaaaaand that's the door, being quite firmly slammed shut.

Sylvain lets out a long, slow whistle. It's actually quite an impressive work of sound, really. Mr. Stacked and Jacked sighs. "Sorry you had to see that," Sylvain says to them, which actually earns the attention of Stacked and Jacked. "I promise that's not exactly a normal occurrence."

"It seems as though we interrupted you," Stacked and Jacked says. His blond companion doesn't look away from the door, which he's glaring at as though just daring it to open and give him an excuse to go absolutely off the goddess damned wall. "Allow us to make it up with a free tea service, unless you do prefer coffee."

It has now been decided that Claude is probably never going to get out of this place, because Hilda giggles demurely and presses a hand against her cheek. "You guys are so sweet here! Maybe we can all take a breather from what happened, and have tea together." That's sure the tried and true Hilda Valentine Goneril way - indulging in free things or whatever works to her advantage, all while playing to the other person as well, in one way or another.

If Sylvain or Mr. Stacked and Jacked pick up on that, they don't make any indication of it, or seem to care. Instead, Sylvain just gives another perfect salesman smile. "Good idea! Let's all duck outside for a moment, shall we?"

When it becomes clear that the expunged individual from before won't be trying to storm back in, Blondie turns away sharply with a dismissive snarl. This way, fully facing Claude, it's easier to get a good look at his face... And what a sight for sore eyes. While not on the same level as Stacked and Jacked, his own jaw is pretty sturdy in its own right, and his one visible eye is a brilliant blue that reminds Claude of clear skies - the best for flying in. The other one - if it is still there at all - is hidden by a simple black eyepatch, and only adds to that vicious look on Blondie's face.

And it's a look that doesn't just apply to his actual physical expression, either... It's in every inch of him as they all make their way back into the waiting room. While Claude, Hilda, and Sylvain all take a seat normally, with Stacked and Jacked going off to some corner of the room where cupboards are, Blondie is a bit more... rough. Casual, maybe, although that doesn't seem like quite the right choice of words.

Instead of lowering himself slowly, carefully, or even in a relaxed kind of way, he practically tosses himself down onto the cushions besides Sylvain. Leaning back, he crosses his arms, and scowls once more at the doorway they all just entered through.

Claude is not entirely sure if Blondie is aware of how that action makes it very clear his pecs can form cleavage, or how distracting it is.

The gentle sound of china clinking draws him out of his thoughts. Off over in one corner, Stacked and Jacked has pulled a set of fine china out from some of the cupboards, and is pulling more out besides. That is to say, what he's pulling out would be various parts of the smooth wood, revealing it not to be just any regular cupboards. Instead, they pull out or unfold to reveal a small tea preparation station, complete with a small electric kettle, an oven, and various other little tools. Can some preparation be done in the Dagdan style, instead of Adrestian? Claude is kind of curious now. Actually, more than just curious, but intrigued. That's more than he would have expected from anywhere in Annas.

"Is there a particular kind of tea that the two of you like?" Stacked and Jacked asks, still with that low and deep voice that goes riiiight down into the pit of Claude's stomach.

"For me, it's Chamomile, Almyran Pine Needle, or Leichester Cortania," Claude answers. "But it might be a little difficult if you're making tea for both of us, because Hilda likes pretty different things - pretty floral and sweet things, right, Hilda? Southern Fruit blend, mint leaves, rose petal blends..."

Hilda laughs a little bit, fingers daintily folded around her water bottle. "I don't know why you asked me when you gave all the answers anyway."

"Good news, we have all of those," Sylvain says with a wink, composed and relaxed for all that he's sitting next to a man who looks as though he's going to outright charge whoever walks through the door. "So just relax, and let us treat you! Although that reminds me, I didn't get to introduce you two..." As Stacked and Jacked comes over with a small push cart filled with cups and various teas, Sylvain gestures to him. "This would be Dedue, our muscle specialist."

"My job description is slightly more varied than that," Dedue says dryly.

"Mhm," is all Sylvain says, perhaps because he's slightly more preoccupied in copping a feel of Dedue's tit as the larger man leans over to set down the teacups. Dedue gives him another dry stare, to which Sylvain can only bat his eyelashes. It's such a silly, stupid thing that's clearly been done a thousand times before, because Sylvain removes his hand easily when Dedue starts to straighten up. "And our ray of sunshine here would be Dimitri, our all around dominant!"

Dimitri doesn't look at them. At least, he doesn't look at them until Sylvain gently rams his elbow into his ribcage, whereupon he slowly drags his gaze away from the doors to put upon them the most cool and dominating gaze Claude has ever had focused in his direction. But in a hot way. 

Dimitri just scoffs as greeting.

Claude feels the first stirrings of his dick getting just a little hard. He crosses his legs.

"So, what was the deal with that guy, and should we be worried?" he asks instead, because being a nosy bastard is one way to distract his brain from the problem going on between his legs. "It was quite a noisy show to suddenly watch, and not the kind of thing that you see out here in Annas."

"I mean, maybe out in Scene Square," Hilda says, "but that's usually bit more involved than just kicking them out of a building. You'd want at least a chastity belt, or something... Although, I mean, who knows? It's not like we saw him with his pants off."

While Sylvain laughs at the mental image - or maybe just at the idea of that particular guy with a cock cage - Dedue shakes his head. "No, it was not a scene... Rather, there were simply some disagreements and disrespect that was flung about. While I did respectfully ask him to leave if that was how he truly felt, and would work with him for a refund-"

"Ha." Sharp. Cold. Completely devoid of the kind of warm mirth that would come with a laugh. Dimitri rolls his neck, a sneer pulling at his lips while one foot rises and wedges itself right against the coffee table. "Scum such as that, with vile garbage pouring from their mouth, don't deserve the benefit of negotiation, or refunds. He was the one who signed up for playing as a submissive, and agreed to all the necessary paperwork for what he would agree to do. It was in that paperwork that it was clearly laid out our own limits, and the things he was not to say just out of pure common decency. He only had himself to blame for whatever bruises he earned not from impact play, but from concrete."

Hilda raises her eyebrows, and Sylvain shakes his head. "Jeez, you're still all worked up... They're going to think we're brutish assholes now, you know."

"Hey, don't go putting words in our mouths," Claude says, laughing - and a little more, too, when Sylvain, Dedue, and Hilda all blink over at him. He thinks even Dimitri's glare flicks a bit towards him. "The phrasing is definitely lacking a bit of care, but.... I agree that, once someone is the first to break a contract they signed, they're definitely not welcome in the same space they were previously allowed into, not in the same way. Of course, I can only say so much on what he deserves since I wasn't there for what happened.... but it seems like what you're implying is that he said some really terrible things, which wouldn't have been acceptable whether he was a submissive or a dominant." Easing back into his chair, Claude flips one hand through the air casually. "Well, who knows. If it was really uncomfortable, it'd be rude to pry too much about it, and I try to have a little more tact than that."

Putting together everyone's particular orders, Dedue nods. "Regardless of anything else... We thank you for such understanding." And from a guy like him, it seems a bit more sincere, although maybe Claude would just like it if it were so.

At least the variety of teas seem to come together nicely, and their various aromas mingle in wonderfully in the room. Dedue is clearly a tea expert, to have chosen the teas that Claude and Hilda liked while also making sure they would contribute to an over all pleasant aroma. There are a few others as well, which Claude can only assume is the favorites of the Lions in attendance...

While the teas steep, Dimitri lets out the kind of heavy breath one might hear from a large and heavy dog, as though just existence is a huge pain in the ass and he'd rather sleep it all off, thanks. "...You were being guided through one of the profile books by Sylvain, weren't you? When we interrupted."

Water bottle now replaced by a pretty little tea cup that matches her image perfectly, Hilda tilts her head to the side. "Oh, we were just browsing, since Sylvain was such a gentleman who offered us a place to sit," she says, not mentioning that they hadn't exactly planned on buying any of the Lions Den services when they first stepped inside. "We had hardly gotten through the book at all!"

"It was why Sylvain had to introduce you," Claude adds. "And I guess it would feel a little weird to start reading up profiles and interviews you've done, with both of you sitting right here in front of us."

Dedue shakes his head, while Dimitri says, "It's fine. We can answer questions, that way. And besides-" His head jerks sharply in Sylvain's direction. "He is in the book as well."

"Eh?"

Sure enough, when they flip aaaaaaall the way to the back, there Sylvain is. As an additional surprise, he's not dressed up in clothing that barely covers his form, as some of the others were - or at least the ones that Claude and Hilda were able to browse through before. Instead, his pictures are a lot more.... seductive, Claude would almost say. The barest hints of skin, or a collar just open enough to see the front of it... And, of course, his roguish expressions as he makes direct eye contact with the camera.

Claude finds it hard to explain, at least right away, but it's almost like the pictures are of someone flirting with the cameraman. It's incredibly easy to imagine the things said with such looks - being invited to dinner, teasing innuendos about what he could do or could be done to him, innocent questions hiding cheeky actions.

Most interesting would be the interview and profile section. For the others they've read about - Annette, Mercedes, Felix - they've all had a pretty forthright answer for what they specialize in. Temperature play, mommy dom, leather and latex... Yet for Sylvain, there's just one simple thing: Please inquire upon request. Even more intriguing is an actual warning towards the bottom, saying that Sylvain isn't available for newcomers.

Ugh, maybe it was almost a bad idea stepping into a place like this. Claude can hold back on all sorts of sexual delights, but for something that snags his curiosity? Now he's just dying to know the answer to so many questions. Is Sylvain someone who's into those really heavy or serious fetishes, the kind where you need to sign at least half a million disclaimers and have a nearby healer on standby in the next room over? Why isn't he available for newcomers, and how long until you stop being a newcomer? Would it be rude to outright ask any of these questions?

The bonus interview on the page - with Sylvain offering a glass of wine to the camera with a wink and his shirt undone just enough for a single nipple to be seen as its bonus picture - doesn't really answer any of those questions, after all. It's all just further teasing, carefully sidestepped questions that seem all the more obvious on paper, and enough innuendo to make a phone sex operator go scarlet.

Shit. He's going to have to stay a dedicated member of the Lions Den just to have a chance at figuring out Sylvain's deal, isn't he? Claude feels that has to be cheating, somehow.

At least Dedue's section is a bit more upfront, although, curiously, it also has a similar warning section at the bottom saying that he's not available for newcomers. Which definitely makes that prior altercation rather interesting... In order to just get with Dedue to start with, even if it was apparently with Dimitri, that meant the yelling guy from before had to be a regular customer. And yet still that didn't bar him from being thrown out for saying something "rude".

Maybe that would be worrying to someone else, but Claude can't help but like it. Some businesses put all the priority into the questionable mindset of "the customer is always right". To prioritize the protection of one's own people over anything else that might be asked... That's a good sign, especially for a business that deals in sensitive situations like sex, where people's emotions can get heightened... and not just from pleasure.

All the care with Dedue makes sense, however, when Claude sees that, among the list of specialties listed on his profile, one of them has to deal with aphrodisiacs. That's not the kind of thing you'd introduced to someone new to any scenes right away, especially if they don't come with a recommendation from another business. It can be easy to have an overreaction to those kinds of things, or get dehydrated - things like that. Claude's never dealt with them too much himself, being wary of letting go to that extent, but there's all sorts of stupid stories that show up - whether on the news, or through internet rumor mills that make up ridiculous nonsense that has to be corrected.

"Are you the only person who deals with aphrodisiacs in the Lions Den?" he asks Dedue, even as his finger keeps trailing along the lines of text as he reads.

"Everyone here is qualified to use various aphrodisiacs," Dedue says. "I am simply the one who is on standby for such occasions, and who is most knowledgeable about the plants that go into them."

Plants? Perhaps wondering about that is a common reaction, because this is around when Sylvain butts in, and Claude is pretty sure the question doesn't show on his face. "The Lions Den prefers to go with more organic and herbal aphrodisiacs that are actually grown here, on premises. If you ever are interested in a tour through the greenhouse, then we do offer them for a small fee for those who aren't regular customers!"

Always a fee if you're not a regular customer... Well, Claude can understand that necessity, ha. Hilda places down her teacup in order to clap her hands together. "You guys have your own greenhouse here in this crowded city?"

"On the rooftop." Dedue again, his head tilting up just slightly at the ceiling. "It does well there, and we also use it for other matters as well."

Other matters as well... The mysteries keep piling up. This place is practically tailor made for him, and Claude feels just a little bit called out for that fact. Maybe that's how they get you, here at the Lions Den. They lure you in with promises of comfy chairs and bottles of water, then snag you in for all the questions you have, and all the attractive people. Devilish.

Dedue continues while Claude is quietly agonizing over everything. "Of course, it is difficult to do a scene entirely with aphrodisiacs. They work best with other actions and ideas."

"Right, right, I saw. Shibari, right?" Claude smiles a little bit, especially as he flips the page back to one of the full photo spreads that includes Dedue in a stunningly crafted shibari corset of some sort. It's a picture that's almost too good, honestly - a shot of his wonderful back muscles, flexing beneath rope, while he looks over his shoulder in a way that perfectly demonstrates that wonderful jawline of his. There are just some people who prove that the gods can make no better temptations than what can be made of humans. Dedue is one of them.

And this just may be Claude's massive bias at work here, but the guy on Sylvain's other side qualifies too.

Hilda is cooing as she looks at the pictures, absolutely delighted. "Oh man, I love the colored ropes and patterns you use... You don't see this kind of style as much! I mean, some places do a bit of fashionable shibari, but since it's so time consuming, the really cheap places will do just really basic patterns and things... More interested in the bondage than anything else. These kinds of colors and patterns... They're really reminiscent of Duscur, from what I remember!"

Maybe it's just Claude's own imagination, but it seems as though Dimitri's arms loosen up just a little bit from where they're crossed at his chest, too. Claude may or may not notice this because he keeps getting distracted by the prominent cleavage.

Speaking of Dimitri... With some help from the Index, Claude flips over to where his section starts as well. "Dimitri, you're a more general and versatile kind of dominant, right?" Certainly that's what Sylvain said. "That must be quite a bother, since that means a lot of people can ask all sorts of things..." Which isn't bad, of course, at least for a proper dominant. It's in their job description to do their best to fulfill the desires of the subs in their care. But a dominant who specializes in something in particular at least has certain expectations placed upon them because of that specialization. For someone willing to be versatile, willing to experiment with a lot... That can place a lot of burden on a professional dom like Dimitri.

And yet the blond looks straight at him, piercing and so blue, and says, "None of the submissives under my care are a bother."

Jeez... A guy like that can really get the heart (and certain lower parts of the anatomy) pounding. Claude grins. "Except for the submissive from fifteen minutes ago, huh?" Promptly, that straightforward look of his warps into another dark scowl, and Claude laughs. "Sorry, sorry~. And oh, here you are." Just in time, it looks like.

Befitting of a proper all purpose dom, a lot of Dimitri's pictures showcase him in a variety of poses with all sorts of fun things at his disposal, or surrounding him. Different restraints being prepared by those large hands of his, various whips and crops shown off, rope being wound about a pole or bedframe... All the while, he still wears that dark and hyper focused kind of look that's different from the piercing glares Felix is capable in his own photos. Definitely the kind of guy who comes off as though he could pin a person down with one hand so easily....

"Good pictures, right?" Sylvain asks cheerfully, seemingly pleased with everything. Did he have something to do with the photos taken, or who the photographer was? Claude can't blame him; they're all quite good. "Although that reminds me... Ah, I hope you guys don't mind if we talk a little bit of business here." When there's no objection, Sylvain turns to Dimitri. "So it looks like I'll have to clear your guys' schedule, huh? And wipe away all of that guy's appointments for the foreseeable future... That's a lot of spare time, you know."

Spare time, huh? Claude licks his lips, gaze flicking over the interview that's in front of him, given by Dimitri. It's quite a difference in tone, these polite and invested answers to all the questions, contrast to the rough and growling man sitting just across from him. 

Ah, fuck it. Fortune favors the bold. "So does that mean your usual slot for today is empty?" he asks suddenly.

Besides him, he's quite aware of the way Hilda is staring at him, although she's probably masking it quite well in the eyes of strangers like these three. Yeah, yeah, he gets the surprise and concern... They did just watch this guy drag someone who was a paying customer, and then actually fling him out the door as though he was just the day's latest pile of garbage. His personality has seemed rather rough, too, at least at first glance...

But he's certain she can tell there's something more to this guy, and this place, than just that. Hilda is pretty smart, although she loathes being called out on it, and that is doubly so when it comes to actual living and breathing people. She must know that too. So why not give a shot in the dark, poke a little more into all of this? His curiosity won't be sated otherwise.

Apparently she's not the only one caught off guard. Sylvain stares at him for a second, so befuddled that he can't even hold his sales pitch perfect smile. It's Dimitri himself who rouses from his seat on the sofa, and pushes himself up to his feet. "It is," he says, glancing down at Claude. He knew the guy was tall just from seeing him at a distance, but it hits pretty differently when Claude is sitting down like this.

Well, he doesn't want to push too hard too quickly... and there are still some things he wants to test as well. So Claude smiles up at him, completely undeterred from that cool glare of Dimitri's. Honestly, it only draws him in all the more. "Then could I steal some of that time away from you, so that I could see what the kind of paperwork you guys have people fill out? Profile books like this are just the frosting, for a guy like me."

Dimitri blinks. Tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, which is honestly more charming than it has any right to be. "You could," he agrees simply. "Allow me to retrieve it, then."

Just like that, he's gone before either Sylvain or Dedue can stop him - which Claude suspects is somewhat on purpose, considering the way Dedue turns to him with his lips parted for something that doesn't get a chance to be said. In the end, he just eases back with a soft sigh. It's a sound that doesn't seem to quite match the softness in his expression, although it's gone in a heartbeat when he turns to look back at Claude and Hilda.

Sylvain is a lot more open with how pleased he is, grinning over at Claude. "So I take it someone caught your eye?" he asks, playing coy like it isn't pretty obvious just who it is that has snagged his attention. "I would have been glad to help you along the process, you know!"

"Oh, I'm sure you would have," Claude agrees with a wink of his own. "But I'd rather be guided along by a guy that's a little more available instead of a secret treat I have to work so hard for." That's not entirely true, but it works well enough.

It doesn't take Dimitri very long to come back; undoubtedly the paperwork is probably stored over in the desk that welcomes people at the front entrance. It's a lot easier that way, and allows for things to be a little speedier. "This is the basic set of forms," Dimitri says simply as he drops it right in front of Claude on the table, not seeming to care how they land... although it doesn't escape Claude's notice that not a single page goes fluttering away from the pile. "We only need this much, for initial customers, or those interested in single nights."

Claude wastes no time in picking the papers up, shifting through them easily. For all her earlier judgment before, Hilda also leans against him so that she can get a good look at it too. "Nice kink list," he says approvingly as he moves past a couple of pages. It's not uncommon for even more specialized businesses to have things like that, after all. One can always add a different bit of play to the usual scene, and having a list like this is handy for future planning. For general practices such as the Lions Den, it's even more invaluable. "And I appreciate the extra page, just in case there's anything a little more exact not on it." Although... As he moves to another page, he pauses, and blinks. "...Favorite meals, snacks, and desserts?"

"Yup~!" says Sylvain, leaning back with a grin.

Dimitri grunts.

"It is good to know," Dedue says, which is a little more, but that's not saying very much.

Well. Okay. Is.... Yeah, he knows that's another kind of kink, but still. If that were the case, that would normally just be dealt with in the event that he signed up for a food course (ha). Asking it right out the gate seems off, somehow, in a way he can't quite pin down. Claude thinks he might be legally permitted to sue, for them to tease him so much like this.

Dimitri suddenly leans forward, arms crossed and cleavage dangerously near eye level. "Page 6," he says suddenly, and it's really only thanks to a life of constant quick thinking that Claude can think to move his hands appropriately. When he's done so, Dimitri makes a small noise in his throat that's hard to pin down, in terms of description. But it's... undeniably approving, all the moreso when it's followed by a simple, "Good." Which is kind of embarrassing, honestly, for how it makes a light tingle go off along the back of Claude's neck. Was that a test of some sort, or just a simple compliment? Dimitri keeps talking, before Claude can decide. "You'll want to pay particular attention to this section.... Here... and here." 

Uncrossing his arms - both a good and bad thing, really - Dimitri reaches down to point at particular lines along the page. Claude follows his gesture, and finds himself intrigued. He sees, now...

It's the section going into explicit contract detail for those with any sort of interest in doing a session as a submissive. There's nothing to sign - that's all the way in the back, he checked, and the inclinations for where one falls, generally speaking, were all the way in the front in the section where Claude is to fill out his general and personal information. This simply explains exactly the kind of protections that are in place for a submissive in the care of the Lions - any Lion, not just Dimitri. Magic protections to help undo rope in the event of a bondage mishap, alternatives available for safeword use in the event of gagging...

Claude's lips twitch up slightly. "There's a beginner's course?" he asks.

"Everyone has to start somewhere!" Sylvain says cheerfully. "We like to make ourselves as open as possible to people who might want to take the first steps into BDSM play at all, and let them know there's no stupid questions. Anyone can read something from a book, or ask something on the internet to a bunch of strangers, but there's a particular reassurance that comes with having a professional be right there to guide you along all these complex topics, and the particular lingo."

Honestly... That's pretty cute. A lot nicer than Claude's own experiences initially with kink, which involved questionable boyfriends and ill-advised advice from certain older members of his family. "Well, I can promise you that I'm a bit more experienced, so I don't need that. I really like the idea, however."

And, more than that... He likes that Dimitri pointed this page out to him. For all his grumbling and rough image, Dimitri isn't oblivious in any way. He's more than aware of how he's come off during this whole thing, with him throwing someone out of the front door. For some doms, being intimidating and rough is the purpose - certainly Dimitri seems to fill that role here in the Lions Den - but it shouldn't be the kind of thing where the submissive genuinely fears for their own wellbeing. When that happens, something has gone wrong. And to counter that... More than just saying he's sorry, or apologizing, or whatever else, Dimitri is showing Claude his own defenses so that he never has to worry about being in the same position.

Well. You know. So long as he doesn't break any contracts, and says rude things to Dimitri and-or Dedue. That outta be pretty easy, frankly. Claude likes to think he's a smarter man than that.

"I hope you don't mind if I keep you around a little longer as I go through all the papers," Claude says, and picks up his own teacup with a smile. "I should probably finish this, too, or else it'd be an insult to all your great hospitality." There's just a small dismissive noise in response, although Dimitri falls back into his seat on the couch himself. After all, there's still his own cup waiting for him on the coffee table. Claude hadn't thought he would take it after Dedue prepared it for him, but, well, he sure picks it up.

Still, best not to consider that sort of thing, or else he'll get lost in thought again. Best for him to shuffle through the papers, trying to balance speed and efficiency. He doesn't want to miss a single thing, but he also doesn't want to waste too much of their time...

Fortunately, this is far from the first time that Claude has flicked through contracts like these, although he does rather like the way that the Lions Den has presented and organized theirs. He knows how to spot all the right things, and take note of what's different or which stands out to him. Honestly, nothing seems like it would be a turn off to him... "And anyone who'd want to come back after their initial session would just fill out a much more detailed form?" he asks curiously, although he has a feeling he already has the answer.

"That's right!" Sylvain says cheerfully. "We have a card attached to one of the pages with our number and website on it. If you really decide you want to keep coming here to us. Once you get in contact with us to let us know you're interested, and pay a portion of your next session, we'll give you a password so that you can log into a restricted portion of the site to more easily arrange sessions." He winks, tapping one finger near to his eyebrow. "And there are plenty of other benefits, too."

Benefits... Of course. Claude doesn't doubt him. No doubt that how much of those benefits he gets to reap depends on how long he stays a regular of the Lions Den. It pays to be horny, doesn't it? Well, he'll see just how much they're worth it when the time comes.

And that time might come sooner than expected as he rifles through his pockets midway through his tea, all in order to pull out a pen. "How long was that guy's session supposed to be, anyway?" he asks casually as he nudges some magazines out of the way. "I mean, it seemed like it would be a fairly long one, if two different people were involved with him."

All three Lions are staring at him. Hilda isn't, just sitting back to enjoy her tea, but she probably saw this coming from a mile away although she gave shit for him with every step. "It was," Dedue says, first to answer. "It was set to last a good few hours, including aftercare."

Always good when a business like this includes aftercare in its estimated timeframe for a session. Claude likes that, too, and he nods as his pen flicks across the page. This is far easier to do than paperwork, honestly, and something he's far more interested in. "Well, it seems like we've only been here for a short amount of time... While the iron is hot, I'd actually like to try my session as soon as possible, but I don't know if the two of you had anything planned with all this sudden free time." He knows that he won't be able to do anything with Dedue, not yet, but Dimitri could have wanted to do something with Dedue himself despite being technically  more available. Claude wouldn't want to interrupt them if they wanted to, he doesn't know, do maintenance on some of the toys, or just have a relaxing few hours with nothing to worry about.

Dimitri pauses for a moment, taking everything in, and Claude can't get a real read on his expression when he glances up at him. Thoughtful, sure, but that doesn't really say a lot more else besides that he's thinking. When he finally speaks, it's not to Claude. "Would you have need of me, Dedue? I can forsake any walk ins if that is the case."

What a way of speaking... Claude is kind of charmed, and he smiles a bit down at his paper.  He has no idea what the background is between any of the workers here - their real histories, not any of the stuff that might get put on as a show for customers.

Dedue, at least, is fairly quick at answering, even if his tone is steady, slow, and calm. "I was actually going to go see what Mercedes needed to have done in the greenhouse." So Mercedes is involved in the greenhouse as well... Which means she likely is familiar with the aphrodisiacs and how to handle them as well. Claude notes that down for himself and for later. "You are free to do whatever you wish, Dimitri."

An odd thing to say to a dom, but then again, not so odd a thing to say to one's friend, or a good coworker. Either way, it seems to be enough for Dimitri, and he jerks his head back towards Claude. "Since this is a walk in, we won't be able to engage in an in-depth scene," he says bluntly, which Claude was frankly expecting. "We can do basic bondage elements in it, and your time limit will be one hour for the scene itself, and another hour for any necessary aftercare."

"Neither of those may take up the full hour that they're given," Sylvain explains, jumping into the conversation with his eyes bright. "However, it's just something we do as a just in case measure. If the timing doesn't match up completely, then you're free to ask for some of your money back, or see what other options are available for you in the time that is still available."

"Right, I saw some stuff about that in the contract," Claude says, tapping at the pile of paper before him. "If I decide to become a regular customer, then I can use whatever time isn't used up and save it for another time, right?" Which is certainly a handy way of going about it, for those who want to stick with the Lions Den. "At any rate, all of that is fine with me. I'm not expecting anything too flashy and involved." A smile flashes across his face. "This is all just a gift for me by my dear friend, after all. I should cash it in quick, before she tries to sneak it away from me!"

Hilda huffs, but it's a playful sound, accompanied by the bright glitter of her eyes. "How rude!" she says, meaning not a single syllable.

Something about that minor exchange has Dimitri stir, and Sylvain laughs. "So it's a birthday gift!" the redhead says, absolutely delighted about it. "Or is there some sort of other special occasion we should be taking into consideration?"

"Well, the birthday is a little ways off," Claude concedes, skimming over the paperwork one last time before he finishes everything off with his signature. "But if there's a free space available, I don't think there's anything wrong in celebrating early, right?" He doesn't want to miss a chance like this one, or the feeling that's accompanying it. What he wants... is to test all of this out, while it's still fresh in his skull. Slow and steady wins the race, a lot of the time, but sometimes quick decisiveness is what ensures you don't miss out on something at the perfect ripeness.

At least this doesn't seem particularly unusual to the Lions. Dimitri is still staring at him without really looking at him, and Sylvain just laughs again. "Hey, whatever works! We'll give you a special discount, then, for signing up~. Although I guess that just depends on if you decide to stick with us."

Dimitri slowly nods. "...It will be up to your standards, regardless of anything else."

"You don't know what my standards are yet," Claude points out, and gets another one of those cool and detached looks for his trouble.

"The quality in the Lions Den is perfect. They'll meet your standards."

Well. What can Claude say in response to such confidence? Absolutely nothing, quite honestly. All he can do is test things to see if it'll really hold up.

It's a pretty good stroke of luck that the now former customer had a decently long session scheduled out. Even with how Claude finishes his own paperwork pretty quickly, Sylvain still has to do a bit of research on him to make sure he's not secretly a mass murderer with not a cent to his name, and Dimitri has to take the time to read through everything so that he can best suit what Claude is looking for. It's as thorough as it can be, in such a short period of time, and for what is currently just a one night stand. Claude can't exactly hover over Sylvain's shoulder for it  - that'd be more unprofessional than anything and an invasion of space - but he's impressed with how it all looks so far.

"Honestly, I should have known something like this would happen with you," Hilda says, after she's handed over her card to pay for his night's fun. "It's always got to be something at least a little weird, or else you'd probably get bored."

"Wow, rude!" Claude laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls of the waiting room. Dedue had long left to go do whatever business he wanted to do, Sylvain is doing some last minute touches in the Lions Den system, and Dimitri had gone off to apparently prepare the right room for them. It wouldn't do to choose just any room, after all. "This just looked like it would be interesting."

Hilda shakes her head, arms crossed. "Well, as long as you know what you're doing... For some basic bondage elements, you probably don't need any fancy backups for your safety, so I guess I don't have to worry. How long do you think you'll be spending in there?"

That's a good question, and one Claude isn't entirely sure of. He doesn't really have enough information on the exact specifics when it comes to the Lions Den. He doesn't doubt that Dimitri is a perfectly serviceable dom, maybe even great, but things in the bedroom can get unpredictable. Sometimes, it makes him a little bit anxious, not knowing exactly how things will turn out so that he can have an idea of how to respond...

And yet for the majority of the time, that's all drowned out by the rush of adrenaline that carries him through, and the way pleasure sings in his entire body.

He doesn't really get a chance to give an answer; Sylvain raps his knuckles on the door and pokes his head in with a smile. "Okay, everything is all set up! Dimitri is waiting in the elevator for you to take you up to the room we chose. Are you all set?"

"I mean, I'm the one who decided to get this ball rolling in the first place, so no need to worry about me!" Chuckling, Claude gets up to his feet and dusts off his pants. As he does so, he nods down to Hilda. "Anyway, you can just go hang out anywhere around here - maybe check out some of the cat girl cafes down nearer to the main street. I'll call you when I'm done here... since I hope you wouldn't just drag me here and ditch me."

"And waste a perfectly good chance at visiting Annas?" Hilda clicks her tongue, smiling while she hops up to her own feet. "Not on your life."

The elevators are actually tucked away right behind the reception desk, in a small hallway full of them that is built to ensure the structure of the stairs and the rest of the building isn't hindered. They're as classy as the rest of the place, and Dimitri is already waiting inside of one when Claude arrives there. He's leaning against the very back, one long leg propped up with the heel of his boot digging into the button meant to keep the doors open. So, you know, that's one way to do it.

Sylvain grins, and wiggles his fingers at them as the doors close. "Have fun~," he says, sing song sliding right in through the crack before the doors shut completely.

Even for all the magic and technology in the world, there's just no getting rid of that initial elevator lurch before it smooths out into an even ascent. Claude wonders if this place has a basement level, and what sort of things could be found there. Some places just use them as simple storage, but others like to make them a sort of exclusive area for VIPs, or as a safety area in case anything happens... Or, you know, as just a flood run off point. Claude guesses you can see the priorities of a business in what they do with their basement.

Whatever. He grins sidelong at Dimitri. "Thanks for waiting for me, and keeping the door open."

Dimitri just grunts, and jerks his head slightly to the side. Is he always like this, or is it just a part of his role? "We'll be taking a room on the fourth floor," he says, as if Claude didn't say anything at all. "We won't be using any tools."

Huh? Claude blinks, and resists the urge to stick a finger in his ear in case he's got any wax built up there. He's pretty sure he doesn't. No tools or anything for a scene, huh? He can understand no costumes or really elaborate set ups, but nothing...? "So what did you have in mind?"

"Rough play."

Rough play... Wait. "Like rough body play?" he asks, kind of surprised by jumping up like that so quickly. "You want me to punch you? Or, well, I guess try..." It's not as though Claude is any kind of expert in hand to hand, or this kind of kink play.

Dimitri shrugs. "It would not quite be as intense as that... although the aspect of impact play will of course be present. You showed an interest in that sort of thing in your application."

Claude is pretty sure he showed interest in a lot of things in his application, whether because he had already experienced them or because he'd yet to try them but still wanted to after hearing about them. Regardless, he supposes when it comes to the idea of being a little bit roughed up... "What kind of thing did you have in mind?"

"No hits to your face. No solid blows to your stomach, or your groin." The elevator begins to slow, the soft shake of it rolling through the two of them. "I will likely mainly use grappling techniques, pinning you and more flat handed or defensive measures. Likely you will get bruises, from when I force you against flat surfaces like the wall, and I do plan on pulling your hair at some point. For anything else, I aim to be flexible."

And he says it all so certainly, too, as though there's not any doubt that Claude is going to smash cheek first into the wall of their room and find a bruise all across his thigh in a couple days time.

Claude can't help but like it, honestly. It feels like a weighted blanket settling down against his spine, soothing away all the jitters and tension that often overtake him as he goes through a million thoughts per minute. He knows what's coming up. Dimitri has told him, with all the absolute certainty of a man who's going to make it happen no matter what else Claude does. It's nice.

Probably as nice as the bruises he's going to be looking upon in just a day or two.

The hallway that the elevator doors open up into is a clean and lovely place, with dark wood making up the floors and a long blue rug that followed from the elevator all the way to the end of the hall. All of the doors seem pretty evenly spaced, honestly, almost like a nice hotel hall. As the two of them make their way down it, Claude looks over some of the decorations that are along the walls.

Most of it is the kind of classical artwork that one could appreciate from up in Faerghus, from the old hunting pictures to beautiful pieces of work that depict people in states of undress in contrast to the spring flowering around them through hard jagged cliffs. There are a couple of large antique mirrors as well - no doubt to offer people a chance for any last minute fiddling with their appearance. Claude doesn't plan on cleaning up that much. What's the point of a post-cock walk if you don't show off at least a little bit?

They reach the door that's second to last - probably whatever was available and most recently cleaned out of the choices available to them. Dimitri pulls a key out from - somewhere. Where? Claude couldn't say. It can't be his pants, because those are leather, and boy don't they stick to him really good. As in, Claude can see exactly what he has loaded in the front, and that alone takes up enough room to fill fifty keys. A million keys.

"I'm going to take the bathroom to change," Dimitri says, opening the door and drawing Claude's attention away from his crotch - a crotch that will soon very possibly and very tragically be covered up in baggy clothing. "Strip to anything you are more comfortable with getting torn."

Oh, right. Of course. For rough play, clothing is always at risk of being a victim. Claude considers, for just a moment, asking if they can change the play to something else... but decides against it. For a good night, a little tear here or there is a small price to pay. Besides, he likes to think he's vaguely decent with a needle, and, if not him, then he can always bribe Hilda into doing it. She might even make it look better than what it started out as.

Speaking of things that look good, the room they step into definitely fits the bill as well. It's a bit more plain compared to the lavish aesthetic outside. No fancy paintings, no pillars or plus armchairs. It's just a bedroom, although still with some of the same beautiful material that's a structural part of the Lions Den. Same beautiful dark wood floors, deep blue walls in lovely patterns... There's a wardrobe tucked away in one corner, and a desk that matches it not too far away on the wall. It doesn't escape Claude that it's the perfect height for the average person to be bent right over... Enticing. He wonders if that's what they'll use for this bit of rough play.

Equally likely is the plain but sturdy looking bed that's pressed up against one wall, a small distance away from a door that leads elsewhere - probably the bathroom that Dimitri mentioned. The bed is nothing fancy, not a canopy bed like one might imagine for such a castle-and-mansion-like aesthetic, but Claude supposes that sort of thing would just be wasted on a quick one night stand like this where he's going to get his ass beat. Literally.

"Thanks for the heads up," Claude says idly as he steps further into the room, turning around to get a proper feel for the place. Not a bad size, not a bad size at all... Not too cramped, not too big. Perfect for their purposes. "Take your time - I know how leather can stick."

No answer. Dimitri is already stepping through the doorway of the bathroom, and shutting the door behind him. That leaves Claude alone, at least for just the moment. Well, fine by him. It gives him plenty of time to go over everything he established in his head and on paper before, while carefully undoing his clothing. Some of it might get torn, but there's no point in exacerbating that from the get-go.

This isn't the first time he's been left to himself, in a nice room that's empty save for him as he deals with his clothes. That's the kind of thing that happens, depending on what kind of brothel that you go to, or the terms of the sex worker that you go with. Sometimes, even just how it is with a boyfriend, or one night stand. That's just how things are. Claude isn't happy about it, but he can acknowledge the truth. However, when that happens, it's usually towards the end of the encounter, after everyone's been spent and gotten what they wanted. Usually just basic sex encounters too.

That this is explicitly a more BDSM type of thing, leaning on the S and M more than anything else, will ensure that won't be the case tonight. Claude tells himself that, and lets it give him comfort in the strange reversal that's happening right now as he sets his tie on the drawertop. For some places, the workers feel or are even encouraged to be all up on someone the second they're in the door. Claude gets what the higher ups - the ones who are hardly ever on the ground floor themself - are thinking, along with some of the more selfish customers. If you're paying for an encounter, then you want to squeeze every minute's worth out, right? Except that has nothing to do with the quality of the entire thing.

By giving them both some separate space to prepare themselves, and get ready for the night... Claude likes that much better. Choosing this kind of specialized place was the right choice in the end.

In the end, Claude strips down to just the plain button up shirt that dips past his waist, and his underwear. That should work out fine enough for what they're planning to do, right? Nothing that would get in the way or is something that would be a pain to replace or get fixed, while also still enough to keep in line with the inherently erotic idea of undressing, or being undressed. Claude is left to just fiddle with the sleeves of his shirt, wondering what's taking Dimitri so long. While he'd said he understood how much of a pain leather pants could be, he figured it wouldn't take this long, and the guy had seemed like a professional-

The bathroom door slams open hard enough to bounce off the wall, and Claude's heart nearly joins it as it makes an attempt right up his throat. He barely has a chance to think about what's happening before Dimitri is right on him, hand lunging for his body.

Claude doesn't think twice. He just goes with instinct and habit as he ducks out of the way, feet quickly trying to put some distance between the two of them. It only hits him afterwards that, oh right, this is a scene. Did he kind of fuck up there, moving out of the way instead of surrendering to the grab? The thoughts flicker through his head quickly, but not quick enough to provide any kind of answer before Dimitri is whirling on him all over again. If he fucked up, the dom doesn't seem to recognize it. All he does is twist about, trying to sweep his foot right towards Claude's ankles.

This is absolutely nothing like Claude has ever tried before with any of his partners. Every part of his body is singing with adrenaline like a jolt straight to his heart. He jumps over the sweeping kick to avoid it, but he's too late. The kick merges into a step, merges into a twist as Dimitri shoves his entire body against his own, and Claude hits the wall so hard his breath bursts out of him.

Kick, lash out, push - he can't do any of it. Not before Dimitri is pressing against him even more, pinning him right up against the wall. Pinning their lips together, hot and hungry and intense.

His world spins as ever ounce of adrenaline in his body swirls sharply from where it was previously to go whirling straight into his cock. Claude groans against Dimitri's mouth, a sound that only rises as a leg roughly shoves its way between his own to grind into his arousal. If he was standing, Claude doubts he could stay that way for long... So it's a good thing he doesn't need to. All he needs to do, wants to do, is jerk his hips against that intrusive leg while his mouth works against Dimitri's own.

For all his efforts, Claude's reward would be fingers sliding through his hair only to grip down hard. A keen rises through him, hits the hair sharp as his head is jerked to the side and away from the kiss. "You're getting ahead of yourself," Dimitri growls, voice hot and low directly into his ear. He has to be able to feel how Claude's cock twitches in response. He has to. "Put yourself in place."

See, Claude would much prefer someone else putting him in his place. He wrote that down in his application, right? It doesn't matter. All he does is lick his lips, a brief swipe of his tongue, before he reaches up to anchor his fingers against Dimitri's arms. "Make me," he hums, before he hauls himself up.

According to his dick, that move is a gods damn tragedy, but Claude promises he'll make things up to it later. For now, well, for now he plans on leaning into this bit of play as hard as he can, and that means bracing himself against the wall while his feet plant right against Dimitri's torso. It's amazing what having a good anchor can do for a guy with strong enough thighs; he's quick and flexible enough to shove Dimitri right off of him. The fingers slip right out of his hair at the same time, no yanked strands. That's a professional for you.

Claude hits the floor and drops as far as he can, to avoid Dimitri's immediate attempt to grab him again. Once again, adrenaline is propelling him forward, which is good, except the majority of it is still coiled up in his groin, which is still good but kind of unhelpful for what he's trying to do. Mostly that's because it makes it awkward to run or walk.

If Dimitri is having the same problem - would that be easier or harder in his leather pants? Wait, what did he change out of? It finally occurs to Claude to actually glance downwards; he hasn't been paying attention to what Dimitri changed into this whole time. Admittedly, for good reason, but -

He's wearing gray sweatpants.

Oh fuck.

That bit of momentary distraction gets him, and Dimitri snags him by the front of his shirt to yank him close. Claude could fight a little harder, a little meaner, but that's not the point, right? Not full rough body play. So he goes along with it, lets his feet stumble beneath him as Dimitri grabs one wrist and then the other.

"Brat," he says, not even the least bit breathless, and Claude grins.

"And what exactly do you plan on doing with this brat?" he goads, and feels weirdly excited when Dimitri's only response is to let out a soft deep breath from his nose, like the huff of some big dog. He gets even more excited when Dimitri adjusts his hands, and just one of them is enough to fold around both of Claude's wrists. More than that, it's a secure grip, one that Claude couldn't fight out of without a bit of tricky and a lot of struggle.

And soon, he's struggling for an entirely different reason as Dimitri kicks his feet out from beneath him, letting go of his wrists suddenly so that the only result is Claude's ass meeting the floor. He yelps maybe a little bit, only for any remaining noise to be forced out of him as Dimitri shoves his bare foot against his chest and the rest of him to the floor. His back hits it with no particular gentleness, and his head would follow, except that it finds something soft instead. It's not great, not complete fluff, but it's enough to make him dizzy instead of feeling as though he cracked his head open.

There's just enough time for him to take in the presence of the bed somewhere near to his head, and then Dimitri presses his heel right against Claude's solar plexus. Not enough to make him stop breathing, but... Enough for him to strain a little.

A common mistake that doms can make, especially new or nervous ones, is that they'll let their mouth run off to fill any silence or gaps in action. It's not really that surprising; many regular people will do that too especially in the context of certain cultures. For them, silence means things aren't going well, or that something is wrong, or that you're not keeping your partner's attention.

Dimitri doesn't bother with words, not now. He stays completely silent as he towers over Claude, heel grinding into him while it feels as though his single and brilliant blue eye is what truly pins Claude down. Sure, Claude could grip at his ankle, try to push the other man off... But he feels breathless. In more ways than one.

The heel presses down just a little more, enough to really be felt, before Dimitri eases up, shifts his foot until one toe is nudging into the gap between buttons. A small tug, a push upwards, almost like he's thinking of just yanking it all off with a simple jerk of his foot. Claude almost stops breathing, transfixed. It was a good idea to remove his vest and jacket, he thinks in hindsight. His pants, too, when Dimitri's foot slips carefully out of his shirt to go down between his legs.

Probably Claude should be a little embarrassed that he's gotten this hard this quickly. Sure, that was always going to be the point of this whole encounter, but one would normally expect at least a little bit of time before arousal, right? This feels practically instantaneous... But maybe that's just because Dimitri is nudging his foot right up against his groin, sending pleasure rolling through him. Dimitri tilts his head, blond hair sliding along his neck and shoulders - still shirtless, and still terribly attractive for it. "Would this be enough to get you off, I wonder..."

If Claude got off just from Dimitri nudging his foot against his dick, that... would probably and honestly not be that bad. It just also wouldn't be what he paid for. Claude doesn't say as much out loud, of course. Frankly, it's just a distant thought in the back of his head, driving his more active responses as he grins breathlessly up at Dimitri. It takes a little bit of stretching, but he manages to reach down, fingers brushing against Dimitri's foot and what little of his ankle shows before he hits cotton.

This time, it's his turn to not say anything. He just stays right where he is, the place he's been put, while his fingers linger at whatever bits of skin that he can find. Claude knows better than to try and seduce a professional sex worker, of course, but he can at least show he's enjoying the game too. So he tilts his head back, wishing he hadn't bothered to style it in the morning. It would have spilled out against the floor much more appealingly then... At least he can still look good this way no matter what, and show off the curve of his neck. Dimitri said nothing would happen to his face; what would he have to do to convince the man to mark him up along his throat?

A little bit more than what he's doing, at least, but that doesn't mean he's left to go unrewarded. Dimitri pulls his foot away from him, drawing out a frustrated groan that quickly rises up when those fingers slide into his hair again. It hurts like hell, the sting that comes with Dimitri's effortless pull, but the sparks from it all only serve to heat up the feeling rattling down his spine into his groin. Claude almost doesn't use his feet to help get up.

Almost. He'd rather not get bald spots in his twenties, proud of his hair as he is. At least it's quick ascent. Even quicker is when Dimitri slams his hand against his chest - nearer to his shoulder and right beneath his collarbone than anything else. Claude grunts, hitting the bed in a much softer landing than what he had last time.

Another brief thought manages to find enough fuel to materialize - the bed is just as comfortable and luxurious as one would expect from such a high class place - before its light is quickly snuffed out again. Dimitri hauls him around, not even seeming to notice when Claude's legs smack into him. (To be fair - Claude just barely notices as well.) His palm is the perfect size to curve around his skull as he presses down on him from behind, fingers in his hair once more. Breath quickening, Claude doesn't even needs Dimitri's other hand to raise his rear, knees struggling for purchase against the sheets.

There's always something tantalizing in the removal of clothes. As much as anything else that's happened to him tonight, simply feeling his shirt slowly slide down his spine draws a shudder out of him that, and his legs tremble. He loves the feeling of smooth cotton against his skin, Dimitri's palm following after it before pulling back. His other hand stays quite comfortably in Claude's hair, and isn't needed for anything else.

No, his active hand seems to do just fine all on its own, with two fingers tucking in beneath the waistband of his underwear and yanking it upwards, over the curve of his ass. It catches along his pelvis, crumpled up and digging into the sensitive skin there. Claude doesn't complain, just gasps. Having that sensation there... only makes him all the more aware of everything that's happening to him, while his sight is partially obscured by blankets and hair and Dimitri's grip.

It would probably be a simple thing, with Dimitri's handling, to shove his underwear down even more. He doesn't bother. Instead, he does something better, letting the band snap back into place right at the bottom of Claude's ass with a little sting. It's such a sharp but tiny gesture; Claude actually lets loose a squeak.

With his rear now pushed up slightly from how his underwear is positioned, it's in the perfect state for Dimitri's hand to smooth over it. "What a curious noise... It appears as though a mouse has wandered in." His palm shifts, cups one plump cheek, and digs his nails in ever so. Claude shudders, his own fingers curling in against the sheets. "A bad idea, little mouse. You've wandered into a lion's den. Do you know what happens to little mice that wander into such places?"

Dimitri's grip kneads into him, spreads him out, brings in the first whisper of air into his body. Claude bites his lip, and spreads his legs.

"They get eaten up."

Claude's underwear is going to get ruined at this rate - the stretching from Dimitri's fingers (which will get to stretch something else out soon), the stains that will no doubt set into them because of Claude's wet cock pressing out against the insides. Claude doesn't particularly care. They're small prices to pay for the feeling rolling through him, the one that keeps him perfectly in place even without Dimitri growling "Stay" at him as his hands slide out of Claude's hair. Why on earth would he ever want to go anywhere?

Dimitri certainly has no interest in going anywhere either. The mattress shifts underneath Claude's body, matching the way Dimitri adjusts behind him. For one brief and wonderful moment, he can feel the brush of that still clothed cock right up against his ass... But then it pulls back. Pity, but, well, he supposes that means his money is being well earned.

That's especially true when a hot gust of breath rushes over his skin, and, while Claude is still recovering from the sensation, Dimitri's teeth soon chase after it. At least this time, Claude manages to strangle the silly little noise that threatens to pop off from his throat, Normally, one could see that as something of a victory. In his case, what he earns instead of a more traditional reward would be Dimitri's teeth scraping along his skin. "Suddenly so quiet."

It's a warning, although Claude only has a scarce second or two to recognize it for what it is. The consequence comes much sooner, a burst of pain that goes straight to his dick in a explosion of pleasure. There's no stopping the gasp that tears its way out of Claude's throat from there. He buries his face against the sheets, warmed up from his squirming, while the pain dulls into a more steady ache. It's incredible, how well it matches the ache inbetween his legs. Just a low, persistent throb... And something Claude squirms back for more of.

Probably begging would be the best thing to do in this sort of scenario, the most vocal kind of response that would communicate everything the most clearly. But, well... While Claude isn't opposed to that, he's not going to fall apart begging with only this little.

Fortunately, he has a partner who can perfectly read those little tells that show how happy he is with all of this. Dimitri bites down again, doesn't let go nearly so quickly. He just digs in, simple pressure sparking up fresh pain within the aching, and takes his time sucking in a mark. Regardless of any other bumps or bruises he might have tonight, it's guaranteed that he's going to have this one. Right in the shape of a crescent from those teeth curving in... Claude wets his lips, tries to shift further back, only to be denied by the iron grip of Dimitri's hands.

No, none of this is in his control whatsoever. It's all Dimitri, taking his sweet time in what he wants to do before dragging his tongue against whatever mark he's made and shifting up.

With only the two of them, the room is absolutely silent. Even the slightest noises are immensely loud: the crinkle of sheets and blankets when they move, Dimitri's rough breath that tickles his sensitive skin, Claude's heartbeat pounding in his ears... and the light pop of a cap flicking upwards, air rushing in to fill what was formally denied to it. Oh, that's a sound he knows very well, one that he's made happen either on his own or with a friend or partner or two. And just thinking of what it means...

"Mice certainly are masochists," Dimitri remarks, pressing his body close. Making Claude all the more aware of the bulge that's pressing out in his pants, against his own ass. Did he take something, or is he naturally hard? Claude wonders, and can't really bring himself to care. "How much do you want this?"

Trying to goad him into begging again... Testing his limits. It's not a bad plan, honestly, but this is still not quite enough. At least there's a sort of reassurance in knowing that, thanks to his money, Dimitri won't just throw a fit if Claude isn't submissive enough quick enough and walk out. So he can afford to be a little bit of a brat, turning his head more now that Dimitri isn't pinning him down so completely. It's easier, this way, to flash a cocky little grin at him. "More than enough to meet what you're greeting me with, back there."

Not that Dimitri's dick means anything realistically, but, you know. It's the idea of being a little shit that's important more than the factual truth of the situation.

Dimitri's expression is hardly flushed, and still retains that cool and dismissive glare that rests so handsomely on his face. His only reaction to Claude's nonsense is to narrow his gaze slightly. Somehow, that feels all the more noticeable with only the one... "We'll see if you can truly handle what I'm greeting you with," he says, raising up the hand holding a small bottle of lube.

Perhaps there's a good reason that Dimitri didn't bother holding down his head any longer... Just hearing that bottle pop open had been enough to get his cock twitching where it hangs heavy between his legs.

Actually watching him pull his hands away from Claude's ass, seeing that clear ooze fall from the opening and onto a pair of large fingers that could fit so snugly into him... That stirs up the heat in the very pit of his stomach, hotter than anything, and Claude licks his lips. They got here faster than he thought they would, but who is he to complain, when his heart is still going a million miles a minute from their prior rough housing?

Dimitri's hands are large. His fingers are too, then, obviously, but they feel all the larger when his hand dips down out of sight and all that exists of their presence is the gentle pressure that glides along the curve of Claude's ass.

He jolts, a little bit. It'd be impossible not to. The lube has been suitably warmed, possibly from being kept so close to Dimitri's own body heat, so it's not as though he's been shocked with ice cold. (Which, good - Claude hates the cold.) Yet there's just no helping that the sensation draws a quiet chill where it's left behind, the one that makes him want to squirm as Dimitri's finger draws near to his hole only to slip away. Literally, with how wet his fingers are. His free hand, the one not coated in lube, presses down again and grips, spreading him wide open.

It's just enough to have a whisper of air slip inside, bringing in more of that anticipatory chill that travels from his ass and catches in his throat. Driving in the sensation even more, there's the careful weight of that slick finger again. It travels along the curve and bumps of his spine, and delves into the space between his spread ass cheeks. Even a little bit of that cool slickness against his hole draws a twitch out of him.

Dimitri's finger doesn't linger there, and Claude couldn't say if that's fortunate or not. After all, his next target is the path of skin from there to the base of his sac, and his fingertip swirls about there in nonsensical patterns. A ghost of a touch, tempting him towards the edge of self control.

Really, he has to give it to this guy... It is quite the temptation. If Claude were less experienced himself, had less control, he'd probably succumb to it immediately.

As it is, he digs his teeth in against the sheets, and the dull taste of cotton presses along his tongue. Dimitri drags his finger up back to his entrance again. There's a hint of sharper pressure, a graze, his fingernail tipping just enough forward as he slides his finger around, and Claude's tongue arches up, into cotton, into the taste of his own damp saliva. The corner of his mouth, his cheek, starts to get wet.

His prayers, his quiet little demands, are soon met. At the careful push of Dimitri's finger, any resistance is done away with, and he sinks in. The second finger joins almost immediately after, separated only by a minor distance of digit length. Going so suddenly makes Claude tighten around him, body trying to push back against the foreign intruder on simple and impulsive instinct, before Claude breathes out slowly from his nose into the sheets.

This is by far hardly the largest thing his body has ever taken. It's not even that much, frankly, especially with the lube put into consideration. Rather, he supposes, he's just gotten used to the same old cliche foreplay of 1-2-3, or forging straight into it.

This, however... This fills him up just enough, perfectly. Feeling that stretch right at his entrance, nerves tingling... Claude stretches his arms out before him, fists the blankets around his fingers like that can get rid of the want pulsing in him.

Of course, the only thing that can get rid of that want... is the person right behind him, seeing just how deep his fingers can delve. Dimitri presses in nearly all the way, until his palm is cupping against Claude's ass, thumb pressing against him so neatly along with his other fingers. Unbidden, a soft little noise of want slips out of Claude's throat and inbetween his teeth before he can swallow it back. There's something so comfortable about being fingered like this, instead of just one-and-done.

Even without saying a word of acknowledgment, Dimitri clearly understands just what he's doing to Claude. He doesn't pump his fingers in and out right away, instead just gently grinding them against the inside of him. Every little twitch and shift grinds, too, at the very entrance of him, like his nerves are strings to be plucked. That kind of gentle, subtle pleasure...

Pressure goes down against his back, hair tickling at the back of his neck, and Claude's breath catches. Feeling Dimitri's weight bearing down on him, even just this much, sets fireworks off in the back of his brain. Recent memories flick back to him, of sitting down on the couch, having to look up and up at the towering blond. Feeling that difference, the finely toned muscles of him, shit-

And then he's swearing in an entirely different way, syllable leaping off of his lips, when Dimitri's fingers nudge into just the right place, and electricity bursts through his entire body.

A low hum rolls throughout Dimitri as Claude jolts and squirms beneath him, idle, thoughtful, not at all particularly hurried. Of course he wouldn't be. All he does is continue to gently shift his fingers in and out of Claude - not even full thrusts, or pumps, or anything of the sort. Just the barest of movements, like searching for something in a haystack. Claude wishes it wasn't as effective as it obviously is... but he can't help it. The teasing along his entrance was good, of course, but this - the edge of anticipation that runs along the ghost of pleasure he'd felt, that makes the feeling all the more sensational. Heart throbbing.

Claude is all the more aware of his prostate now, with that little nudge, and thus aware of just how close Dimitri's probing fingers get. He's practically drooling now into the sheets, barely caring about the spread of wet cotton against the side of his face, as he feels Dimitri shift inside of him. He's still going so slow...

Could he buck back into those fingers? Make Dimitri go a little faster, even if just for a moment? Claude's leg tense, just as an experiment, a little test. Instantly, there's a palm against the small of his back. It fits so perfectly there, as though they were made for each other, made for this, and Claude's eyelids flutter. "Down," Dimitri growls, the edges of his words almost a snarl, and ooooh. Oh shit. Oh fuck him especially. Please fuck him.

Just like that, Claude gives in. It's like the sudden roll in of fog, covering the shore, bringing in sweet and comforting obscurity. A kind of weight that's just enough to settle him, to wipe away all traces of thought. His teeth let go of the sheets, lips dragging against the damp material just like the noise pulled from his throat. Yes. Yes. That's exactly what he wants.

Dimitri's fingers go still in him, but only for a fraction of a second. Soon enough - more than soon enough - they're sliding in and out of him again, this time with a bit more distance, a bit more force. Just one hand is enough to keep him perfectly spread open.

The other shifts away from his back, and there's a shift in the mattress, an indentation that affects the whole thing, and Dimitri's breath is at his ear, now - hot and low and dark. "Know your place. You'll get what you deserve, but no sooner than you deserve it. And I am the judge of that, little mouse. Not you." And his lips press down against his pulse, and his fingers press up against that same hot spot of pleasure.

Don't beg. Don't beg, not just yet. Claude tells himself that, even as his jaw goes slack and he tries to spread his legs ever wider for Dimitri's use. The most fun part of the game will all come to an end if he ends up begging this soon. And yet if it isn't the greatest temptation in the world, trapped beneath Dimitri's weight as he spreads him out and teases him straight to oblivion.

It doesn't take that long to get Claude all nice and prepared. Probably he could have been thrust into from the very beginning. Not only is he fairly regular and constant in his libido, but he was ready for all of this probably from the second he and Dimitri stood in an elevator alone together. Still, Dimitri takes his time, torments him more than prepares him - although maybe torment is, in its own way, a form of preparation. So dreadful, really, that the effect when he finally slides his fingers out is a dissatisfied groan rolling out of Claude.

Dimitri snorts, ever so slightly. Claude thinks it might be in amusement. He can't really be bothered to care, both because of what he's wanting, and because of the slight shifting of cloth that he can hear over his shoulder. A part of him wants to look back, to confirm it with his own eyes, but Dimitri's weight is still pressing down against him. It's impossible. And, frankly.... he might not want to.

His curiosity is satisfied all the better by the feeling of fingers digging into his flesh once more, spreading his cheeks apart, and the wet heat of Dimitri's cock slides up against him, right in the middle. Claude swallows, tries to spread his legs more and is stopped by that impeccable grip against his ass. No, of course not. Not yet.

With the kind of image that Dimitri seems to have here, Claude would expect a sudden hard thrust, something to knock the very breath out of him. Instead, there's only a patient and slow press into him, spreading him out even wider than what the fingers had managed. Claude doesn't bother stopping the soft moan he makes this time. There's just that pleasant stretch, the satisfying feeling of being filled... But only partway. The satisfaction of seeing a cup being filled, knowing it should go right to the brim, and seeing it stop at some nonsensical point.

Seriously. Claude groans, feeling as though he could smack his head against a wall. But there is no wall, not within his reach, just the wet grind of cotton against his face, sticking to it no matter how he squirms.

"Not satisfied, then, are you?" Dimitri growls, still shifting just enough to send little sparks up along the base of Claude's spine. It's made even worse when Dimitri's free hand, the most active one, slips back down again. His fingers dip between spread cheeks, grind against soft skin, before finding their place at his entrance. There, the touch becomes a ghost of thing, just enough to pull at the most sensitive parts of him. Claude gasps, from that - and from Dimitri's teeth pressing against his ear. Not even a bite. Not yet. Just the damp hardness of his teeth, and the brush of soft lips as he speaks. Hot. So terribly hot. "But mice do so love to stuff their cheeks."

Is that a reference to his - ? The realization hardly has a chance to manifest itself properly before Dimitri's finger tugs at his flesh, right near his hole, and grinds ever deeper. Claude makes another desperate and wanton noise, things that can't even be considered actual words.

It's not the kind of begging Dimitri probably had in mind, when he first began nudging Claude for it. Asking for it. Demanding it.

And yet Dimitri seems to find it an acceptable replacement of sorts, his cock sliding out of Claude bit by bit until only the very tip of his cock's head is still inside of him. With how much Claude tries to squeeze down the entire time, and doesn't stop even when Dimitri does, it must be agonizing. Good - if it's agonizing, then maybe -

Dimitri thrusts in sudden and hard, grinding right against the most sensitive of his nerves, and Claude makes another startled and stupid squeak of a noise. He wouldn't care, normally, except there's a huff of amused laughter right in his ear, and his face grows red hot. He buries his face against the sheets once more, digs his teeth in like that can properly muffle all of the sounds threatening to spill out of him. Dimitri may have a lot of control over this situation, but Claude at least still has control of his own mouth.

That's what he thinks, anyway, until those fingers wind not around his hair, but his throat, and Claude is suddenly jerked upright just in time for another thrust into his body. Claude's entire body jolts in shock, squeezes down all the harder, and Dimitri's own moan is growled out against the curve of his ear. As the sheets flutter back down to the mattress, Claude's hands scramble against Dimitri's.

For what? He has no idea. It's sure as hell not exactly a conscious decision. But it's almost a comforting one, when Dimitri's other hand slides around the curve of his hip, settles against his pelvis so that one hand can grip at it.

"Cheating," Claude rasps, although it's more from surprise than Dimitri's hand at his neck. Despite the initial pull, nothing hurts like Claude would have thought. Maybe his unconscious follow of the movement helped. Maybe it was Dimitri's professional handling of his body. In the moment, it doesn't matter. Certainly, there are more important things to focus on - the way Dimitri's fingers along his pelvis make his own arousal twitch in greedy anticipation, that cock nestled all the way into his body.

Being in this position, forced upright on his knees, their bodies joined so close together - it changes something. The angle. The movement. All Dimitri has to do is grind his hips a little further against him, and there's another shock rolling through Claude. Helplessly, he tilts his head back all the further, exposing more of his throat to Dimitri's hand. Whatever noise he makes can't even be described.

Dimitri seems to enjoy it anyway, a low hum thrumming through him and into Claude, too, from where chest and back are pressed against one another. "I'll take your complaints into consideration," he murmurs, warming Claude's skin with every word, before his hips roll against Claude's - once, and then again, and again.

It is not the rough and brutally fast fuckfest Claude was expecting, when he first had his head pressed down against the mattress. And yet, despite that, it's everything he could have wanted as Dimitri's hands alone are enough to keep him perfectly locked into place, his jerks and spasms doing nothing to get him away from how deeply he's delved into. Each thrust seems to hit his prostate easier and easier, until his nails are digging into Dimitri's skin, and cries are leaping off his lips. Pleasure overwhelms him like a wave, the initial hard crash serving more to drag him under than anything else. Heat boils in his stomach, tenses his thighs. Every little bit of him pulls together in preparation, ready for sweet release-

So of course that's around the time that Dimitri thrusts deep inside of him, and then doesn't pull out.

Claude squirms impatiently against him, normally quick wits stumbling in the face of his pleasure. Why Dimitri is stopping is an unimportant question in the face of his lust. Surely a little bit of encouragement is enough to get Dimitri started again, isn't it?

It's not, of course. Dimitri's hand slides down from his neck, spreads fingers out along Claude's chest. The way he brushes against one of Claude's nipples earns another jolt of pleasure, a little shock of it, and Claude would enjoy it a lot more if he didn't want something more.

A tangled noise of frustration snaps against the back of his teeth. He really has to do everything himself, does he? So he tries to shift, thrust back against Dimitri and that cock of his.

No dice. The hand on his pelvis presses down all the harder, close enough to drive him up the wall and never quite off the edge. Claude digs his fingers in a little more where he's holding on, and, shit, fuck, right, hands. He reaches down, seeking the heat of his own arousal.... only for Dimitri to reach out with his own hand, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him away.

Another low rumble of a laugh, one that nudges that spot deep inside of him with more mocking pleasure. "I think you'll have to listen to me better than that, little mouse." He presses forward, pushing with his chest and guiding with that hand on Claude's wrist, until he's bent down once more with his face down towards the mattress. "You wanted to be filled, didn't you?" A graze of teeth against Claude's ear. "There were no requests for anything besides that."

Oh. Oh this bastard. Claude is almost breathless with the bastardry of it all, really. Technically, he never asked to be filled up either, but those are just technicalities. He's gotten exactly to the edge of what he wanted, but before he can take that thrilling leap down, he's held back. Fuck.

For the next - who knows how long, it doesn't matter, time is meaningless - Dimitri doesn't move. All he does is layer lazy attention along Claude's skin, from the curve of his ear down to where his teeth press insistent marks along the back of his neck. All of Claude's actions against him mean nothing. No amount of squirming can dislodge Dimitri from his position right against Claude's back. No form of jerking can make him budge to get any sort of satisfying friction. If anything, when Claude is too unruly, Dimitri just digs his teeth in harder, right at the junction between neck and shoulder, until Claude is grabbing back at his hair instead of down against the sheets.

Bit by bit, steadily, his arousal eases up... Not enough to make his cock any less rock hard, of course, but enough to guide him away from the edge that he desires so badly. Enough to bring him to a solid and steady '8' on the 1-10 horny scale. When he's left panting and fidgety against the sheets, he feels Dimitri's lips curve into a smile against his skin. "Good," is all he says, and then his hips shift back.

If he were more naive, Claude might think that he'd finally be getting the rewarding fuck he deserves after being jerked around like that. But it's exactly because he was jerked around like that which has him know better. Dimitri pulls back, the length of him going around halfway, before he sloooowly slides right back in. Same as when he pulled out. It hardly takes any effort whatsoever, doesn't even disrupt the steady flow of Dimitri's breath even when he repeats the action. Out, in. Out, in. Steady and patient, making sure to grind right against his entrance, and then down against his prostate whenever Claude's breath catches as a dead giveaway for every graze.

It's like being fed drops of the sweetest and most luxurious food - it satisfies something, but what it truly does is leave him ever more ravenous. The taste delights the mind; a single drop never sates his hunger, only sharpens it.

And every time he dares to think that he could still reach climax like this, every time pleasure twitches through his cock... Dimitri dares to stop, and drags his nails up along Claude's stomach. His chest. His other hand is what keeps Claude's own pinned against the bed. That leaves Claude's other hand, of course, which he could try to touch himself with... if he didn't feel certain that Dimitri would pin that as well. If he didn't long for those nails, biting into his skin and twisting one nipple until Claude whines.

Fuck. Fuck. As Dimitri grinds up against his prostate, sends stars glittering behind his eyes, Claude finally gives in. How is he supposed to hold back like this? "Fuck me," he moans, forehead pressed into the sheets - dry, this patch, nudged out of place from all his squirming. "Please."

Dimitri's face pulls away from his neck, only to press down on the other side. By the end of the night, he's going to be wearing a collar made out of hickeys. "Isn't that what I'm doing, little mouse?"

Almyra is a country of fine tradition, and a part of that tradition means some inventive swears. Claude indulges in some of his country's culture by letting them loose under his breath, and he tugs impatiently on Dimitri's hair. As befitting of someone who engages in such rough play, Dimitri doesn't react a bit. "Fuck me harder," he groans, trying to grind back against Dimitri. It's a paltry bit of sensation, not even enough to match what Dimitri's been doing all this time. "Fuck me through the mattress! I just want to come already!"

"So that's what you want, is it?" A nip against the shell of his ear, like a reminder of their positions. As if Claude needs it. "If that's all it is, little mouse... I'll give you exactly what you're asking for."

Far off in the back of his mind, the monkey's paw of Claude's intuition notes the curling of one finger. That's only a tiny fraction of his mind, however. The rest of him doesn't have time to focus on such trivial matters, not when Dimitri pulls back and slams into him.

Thought quickly becomes an unattainable thing, after that. Dimitri pounds into him like a machine, relentless and hard in more ways than one. Both of their hands join together on the bed, each of them bracing for slightly different reasons, and Claude's moans ring out in the large room. And once they start, they don't stop, can't stop - not with the punishing pace Dimitri quickly establishes, so much that Claude can barely keep up.

His body sure as hell is barely hanging on, with the way Dimitri slams into that electric little spot of his again and again. Claude's moans rise, intensify, and holy shit his knees can barely keep him upright. Something wet splatters against his stomach, makes him jolt as it cools there, and oh, oh, precum, precum from the way his dick is bouncing with every slam of Dimitri's cock into his hole. It's coming. It's coming. Beneath his wailing lips, the sheets grow wetter again. Finally, finally, finally, he's going to hit it, going to fall-

The movement of Dimitri's hand doesn't reach him until it's reached its destination, smoothing over the dip of his pelvis and fingers sliding around the base of his cock. Claude has an inkling of what he plans to do, even before he does it with those fingers wrapping exactly so there at the very base.

It's like plugging up a hole in a crumbling dam. Claude's breath leaves him in a rush as he feels every little pulse in his cock, pleasure building up with nowhere to go. "Oh no, no no," he rasps, giving up stability as he jerks one hand back down to between his legs. Just touching his own arousal draws tears to his eyes, the sensation overwhelming. Yet he finds no relief at tugging Dimitri's wrist, either. He's like a god damn wall of iron, refusing to budge or give way, ramming straight into him until Claude has to give up the fight if he doesn't want to break his neck just by hitting the pillow.

Despite the restriction, despite the pressure that feels as though it's going to break his mind jaggedly in half, the pleasure doesn't stop rolling through him. Doesn't stop reaching the peak, the crest, and then - and then -

Orgasm slams into him harder than Dimitri had, an overwhelming wave that drags him under and leaves him weightless. No words form in his head, leave his lips. All Claude can do is arch his spine helplessly against Dimitri's broad chest, and let the pleasure sweep him away. When he finally comes down from it all, Claude's head drops with it. His legs are still shaking, propping them up as they are, and he pants, looking down mindlessly at the sheets... and then, his forehead against them, he looks down between his legs when an ache pulses there.

He's still hard.

Ah.

While Claude stares, practically uncomprehending, Dimitri's laugh rolls against the back of his neck once again. "You said you wanted to come, didn't you, little mouse?" Even as Claude watches, the shadow that is Dimitri's hand slides away from his still aching length, and he can feel it as it anchors itself along his hips again. "Then by all means... I'll be sure to give you exactly what you want."

And then, with his grip on Claude nothing less than completely firm, Dimitri pulls back, and pounds into him.

After that - well, after that, the details get pretty fuzzy, on account of Claude's overly-sensitive body overriding all senses and leaving him a drooling mess on the sheets. In such a state, his cock already so close to coming, it's child's play for a professional like Dimitri to hit exactly where he needs to until Claude is spilling everything against the mattress with a cry that shatters against the walls.

When he comes to, he's against a comfortably warm body that's only a little sticky from all the sweat. (Or, if it's more than a little, Claude can't quite bring himself to care.) A blink or two, and it hits him that all the filthy sheets have been shoved elsewhere, leaving him underneath a comfortably thick and warm blanket that weighs down on him quite nicely. His head is lolled to the side, and resting against a familiar sturdy shoulder. There's movement, too - feeling. Dimitri's hand gently rubbing along his side, stroking him. It's such a minor little thing, and yet something about it feels comforting.

Not much time seems to have passed since he came; his cock still feels a little bit sticky and wet right at the tip, and the sweat on their bodies hasn't become completely freezing - the worst part of any sexual encounter, in Claude's opinion.

Certainly Dimitri is doing nothing, which helps him pick up quickly at Claude stirring. "Good. You're still conscious. If this session was satisfactory for you, then we can later on discuss if you would like to set up another appointment in the future, but for now I- What are you doing?"

What Claude is doing is clumsily trying to crawl over Dimitri's sexy, sexy chest, over to the folder he can see that's been set up on the bedside table. It must have been there ahead of time. He'll think about it later. Right now, all he cares about is fumbling around for a pen that needs to be there. "Signing," Claude says, although the syllables kind of drag out of his mouth sluggishly. Hoo! He's in more of A Shape than he thought. "I'm... gonna sign, and have you fuck my brains out every night I can get. Wow. Hi. Where is your pen?"

Dimitri does not tell him where his pen is. Instead, with a surprising amount of gentleness for someone who let Claude's head hit the floor, he takes him by the wrist with one hand and uses the other to guide him back against his body. This time, instead of at the side, it's directly on top of him.

"The signing of any contracts," he says softly to him, "can wait for a little later." With Claude positioned roughly where he should be, Dimitri guides his head down to rest right on top of that perfectly splendid chest of his. It's incredible, how muscle can be soft like this. With his ear against skin, Claude can hear the reassuring beat of Dimitri's heart. "For now... All you need to do is rest, right here." His fingers thread through Claude's hair, so much more gently than they had before. "When you wake up, I hope you will let me pamper you in the baths, and look over you for any injuries. When all that is done... Then we can discuss contracts."

Has anyone ever told Dimitri his voice is soothing? There's something about the depth of it... His eyes drift shut, or maybe they drifted shut a while ago.

And Dimitri keeps talking. "Just rest here. You only need do that, and not worry about a thing."

Claude hears... Well, while he hears all of it, he comprehends maybe a third of it in the moment. But... It's fine. It really is. He understands the most important and immediate thing, after all... which is that he just has to lay his head down against Dimitri's chest, and let himself be lulled to sleep for a short while as that heartbeat follows the rhythm of his own.

It's not yet his birthday... But he thinks it's still the best one he's had in years.