Lion's Den Ch 4

[warmskies]

It's after maybe his second very exaggerated groan that Hilda finally sighs with mingled exasperation and fondness. "Alright," she says, leaning over the breakroom table with their lunch sprawled out between them. There's probably too much of it, but that doesn't really matter. "Just what's got you whining so much now, huh? I thought that you had a really good time, with your last session at the Lion's Den, so... Is it family stuff?" She pops a cheery tomato into her mouth. "Oh," she says around where it's tucked into her cheek. "Actually, no, this is your unserious whine. You don't do that kind of thing when it's important."

"I'm glad that you've come to understand the exact emotions of all my various vocalizations, Hilda," Claude retorts dryly before he sighs and picks up his own bowl of food. Curry, from a new restaurant that started up just down the street. He can only hope that it's worth the hassle it took to get his work done early. "But no. And Lion's Den went great, yeah." Just as he told her, with Dimitri being as caring as he was.

But really, with a guy like that...

"So what's the deal, then?"

Claude clinks his teeth against the spoon before pulling it out with a quieter and less dramatic sigh. "It's just been trying to get another appointment set up at the Den. It's not as though I'm oblivious that Dimitri is a pretty popular guy over there - it was pure dumb luck that I got him when I did. But it feels like every single time I try to schedule an appointment, they're booked up to the next moon." And he would be fine with that, he really would, because he knew what he was signing up for: a long wait time on occasions.

There's a small part of him that almost wonders if Dimitri is avoiding him for that chance meeting the night of their last session, when he stumbled onto the man crouched there in the aisle of some tiny little supermarket convenience store mashup like a feral raccoon caught stealing stringed cheese out from the dumpster.

Probably that's just a stupid thought born from his own frustrations at not being able to actually see Dimitri for a long time, and all the questions he has about why Dimitri was over there in the first place.

...But man if that dumb conspiracy board part of his brain can't help but poke at it.

"So it is about the Den again." Finally swallowing her tomato, Hilda laughs a little bit. "Are you really feeling all that pent up? And here I thought that things here are the company were going pretty good!"

"You always think things are going pretty good because you know the exact tricks to shuffle your work onto Lorenz," Claude counters. Lorenz is just the prime subject, honestly. Hilda's great talent in life is something she would call responsibly delegating and which Claude would call - well, what he just said. "And it's not just about being pent up."

He's about to say that it has to do with the quality of the service, all the way down to the luxurious aftercare. Hilda cuts straight through before he has a chance. "Oh, this is a nosy thing, isn't it?"

Claude falls silent.

Hilda bats her eyelashes at him.

Really, his only recourse is to grab a cherry tomato and throw it at her.





Of course, that doesn't actually solve anything to do with how difficult is to arrange an appointment over at the Den. Claude knows that it's just his overactive brain hard at work and driving him up the wall in turn. It's nothing, he knows that. And he also knows that Dimitri, in their texts together, has offered to help get him set up with any one of the other Lions on duty if he just wants a good session.

Claude knows that they'd all be top of their class, for sure. Dimitri may be the popular one, but he knows that everyone else's schedules over there are nicely busy too. They wouldn't be set up in such a classy joint if their skills were any less, because that's how they bring in money.

Still. He holds out for Dimitri. 

In a case of good luck, it only takes less than a week for his complaining to Hilda to coincidentally bear fruit in the real world. Dimitri finally gets back to him, saying that there's a night free for him if he doesn't mind the timing. Claude really doesn't care. He agrees instantly. He'll figure out the time if he has to, because the alternative is waiting like five years for the next available slot on Dimitri's schedule.

It's only when he's done doing a little victory fist pump that he actually looks back to what he agreed on for their next meeting, and finds brat taming.

Well.

...Sure, he can work with that.

That's what he tells himself, anyway, on the night that he steps in through the door, and gives a friendly little nod of his head over to where Sylvain is at the front desk again, chatting it up with... Right, that's Mercedes. Claude knows he's only been here a relative few times, but, well, that's still enough to be recognized as a regular of sorts. Honestly, with the way that Sylvain looks amused, he kind of wonders if he's been pegged as more than a regular...

"Tea room ready to go?" he asks, waving to Mercedes in return to her own as she holds shut a robe she has draped over her shoulders. "I'm in no rush."

This is a lie. He kind of feels he should be in a rush, with how long he's waited to see Dimitri, but that's not the kind of thing you just tell people. Especially the people at the front end of the business. He knows from experience that people like that are the ones most inclined to gossip. It's not that he's saying anything bad about Sylvain, of course. It's just, like recognizes like.

Sylvain flashes him a peace sign. "Should be all set for you, and Annette hasn't been in that one for three days!" he informs him cheerfully. Funny how one little incident is never forgotten. Although, Claude guesses that for Annette, it's a repeated string of incidents, forever, nonstop. "Need a guide back there, or are you good?"

"I should be fine, don't worry about me. Just do what you guys were doing before." Claude laughs and shrugs it off, going over to the back halls he knows keep the cozier little waiting rooms. He knows he's only been here a few times, but, well, what can he say? For him, it's just second nature to memorize where he's going, what the halls look like, the number of paces it takes for him to go from the front desk to the back halls to the tea room. He can't remember when he first started developing a habit.

It's just the kind of thing that feels as though it's been with him since forever.

Sometimes that's been helpful, he has to admit, and even now it's not as though it's a bad thing. It's handy, being able to escort himself so that he doesn't bother Sylvain and Mercedes's business up front. He's a customer, a patron, and all that really means is that he's giving money to the Lion's Den in exchange for sexual services and, you know, a perfect passable wait time until Dimitri comes down to get him. It doesn't mean he can just be a dick while they're trying to handle the whole rest of the business that doesn't revolve around Claude's asshole.

This is apparently a point of contention for some people, which Claude finds rather fascinating in a couple of different ways. The first is the detached view of someone seeing a really gross bug in a foreign country for the first time.

The second is a very plain and simple what the fuck.

Probably he shouldn't really have too much tea, Claude acknowledges when he steps into the comforting atmosphere of the little waiting room. While he put down 'brat taming', it had just been a spur of the moment kind of thing, and he hadn't had a solid idea of where to go with that. Which is fine, apparently, or at least Dimitri had said so, and Claude agrees with him. Not all scenes are the kind that can be railroaded right from the start.

Some scenes just have to be played out by ear, like catching a current while high up on a wyvern. Claude has to admit that there's an appeal to that sort of thing too.

However, what that means is that he doesn't want to put himself in a bit of a compromising position. Sure, he knows that it almost definitely wouldn't be the first time a professional sex worker would have dealt with that sort of embarrassment, but he'd like to keep some dignity. So instead, he raids the snack cabinet, plucking some of the sweets he prefers over anything too overloaded with sugar. He'll probably have just enough time for a couple, right? It's not like he's going to be here for maybe longer than a few minutes.

...He changes his mind on that when ten minutes pass and there's absolutely no sign of Dimitri.

Fifteen minutes in, and that part of his brain he tried to shut up only last week is back, telling him that he somehow magically fucked up things with Dimitri or he's stumbled onto some great secret (sweatpants?) that means he can't ever see him again or both. That's around the time that there's a little knock on the door, and Mercedes pokes her head in with a smile. "Claude, isn't it? I'm really sorry, but Dimitri needs another moment. We'll make up the time for you, I promise!" And she's gone just like that.

Dimitri is 100% avoiding him, what the hell happened that night.

Claude actually only has around three more minutes to work himself into a (delighted) paranoid spiral of conspiracy before a knock on the door heralds Dimitri's arrival, although the blond dom pauses when he opens the door. "...Do you need a moment, Claude?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine," he says, as though Dimitri hadn't just caught him in the middle of pacing a circle around the room with all the energy of a college student on his fifth pot of coffee in one hour. "Don't worry about it. I guess it's just been hitting me that it's been a while since we've had a session between the two of us, huh?"

For all that he holds the door open for him as politely as he ever does... Somehow, Dimitri seems a little more distant and reserved than normal, not exactly meeting his gaze as he steps out into the hallway once again. "With how busy the Lion Den has been, I hadn't realized that so much time had passed," he says, their steps echoing off the walls until they come to a stop right there at the elevators. "I apologize for how we have continuously made you wait."

"You're fine, you're fine. If the schedule gets filled up really quickly by a lot of people, then it can't be helped." Claude laughs a little bit as he steps into the elevator alongside him. "Besides, I'm a working man myself, you know? I know how it can get. There are just some times in the year when all the business starts flowing in, and the work never stops. For some shops, it's around the holidays, and for other places it's all dependent on what's coming in that season... It'd be hypocritical for me to say anything against you getting busy, ha ha." No reaction still, although Dimitri is pressing in the button for one of the upper floors... "Although, you know, now I'm a little bit curious. When are the busy seasons for your guys' industry? You'll have to tell me about them."

A noncommital sort of noise, before Dimitri seems to remember that the human race was given the ability to speak for a reason. "It is nothing too interesting, but I can ask Sylvain about it to let you know."

There's a very whiny sort of inner voice in Claude's skull that says he wanted Dimitri to tell him, that he wanted to get the dom to ease up a little bit, learn more about him, put to rest the wild conspiracy pinboard he has going on inside of his own skull. Best he can, he shushes it. This makes sense, he argues against his own mental prosecution lawyer. Dimitri already said he has a lot of work on his plate. Why not shuffle things off to the front desk guy, who probably has time to entertain talks like this when he's not browsing whatever on his computer?

But I wanted Dimitri to talk to me, whines the prosecution.

Ok, concedes the defense, it's hard to object to that one.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem as though Dimitri is in a particularly talkative mood the entire elevator ride upwards. All he offers is the sight of him - and, well, Claude can't complain about the sight. He makes for a good one, arms crossed, leaning against the pretty little pattern of the elevator interior. And he's wearing a nice proper button up, too, good slacks, the whole thing.

Which really do fit the scene, when they finally make it out of the elevator and into the room where they'll apparently be doing their session.

Claude whistles, stepping inside and glancing over the various bookshelves appraisingly. It reminds him distantly of many a home office that he's visited for work, talking over things with investors or coworkers or whatever may have you. Big bookshelves (with books that may likely have not been read beyond the cover), enormous rugs with intricate patterns sprawling across them, comfy couches around a pretty little glass coffee table, and then a large desk over at the head of it all. It takes a few more steps inside for him to spot a small door, over in one corner. Probably for props and such that are a little too unwieldy and ruin the vibe of this lovely office space.

"So professional-vibe for this particular brat taming, huh?" he asks, resting his hand along the back of one fancy little couch. Nice, soft, sturdy. Perfect in case he gets shoved face down against it and 'punished'. "You did mention that as one of the options, but I didn't think you'd go with it."

On the opposite side of the room, Dimitri passes behind the other couch, but doesn't linger. Instead, his feet take him straight to the desk, where he strikes an impressive figure. With how the lights are positioned here... It all frames him perfectly, that hair a brilliant gold in contrast to the darkness of his eyepatch, the shadows that fall over one hooded eye. "It seemed as though it would be good in contrast to our last scenes," he tells Claude, fingertips resting so very lightly along the dark grain of the desk. Framed like this, with his looks, he could be an actor in some sort of modern drama. Claude would watch that show. "They were all a bit relaxed... so this will do well for a more proper roleplay, I thought."

"Can't argue there." Just the setting alone is already really nice and getting Claude into some sort of mood. As though he should be a little more prim and proper, a little more professional... and just as much how he wants to kind of ruin the whole thing, a cat delighting in smacking a glass right off its shelf. "Although now I'm wondering if I should have dressed up a bit more."

Damn if all the heavens don't know that he's got a stupid amount of nice and fancy clothing for all sorts of occasions. It's one of those things that was just always a necessity - first when he was a kid and had to match up twice as hard to all his siblings in order to keep even a little heat off of him, then  again when he went to live with his grandfather for a while for an entirely different kind of edge up on life. Even now, at his work, he still has to look all clean and polished, no flaws, not a hair out of place. Charm up to the max. Probably he wouldn't have had to put so much effort into a scene, but, you know. A little effort?

Dimitri glances over to him, however, and simply says, "What you're wearing is more than enough, I should think."

What. Really? Claude glances down at his clothing he'd chosen for the night- a simple orange polo and an old pair of slacks he never wears anymore because they've gone out of fashion. "These little old things?" he asks with a laugh. "I just chose them because I figured if anything happened, like a stain or tear, it wouldn't really matter in the end. I hate polo shirts anyway, but, you know, they're handy for some business casual stuff." He'd almost chosen this in hopes it would get destroyed in some manner that would offer up a trivial excuse to donate or toss it.

For just a moment, he thinks there's a flicker of a smile on Dimitri's face, the slightest curve of his lips, but he blinks and it's gone just like that. "I'll keep that in mind, although it wouldn't do for our reputation if we sent you out the door in rags."

There! There. Claude grins, a relaxed feeling tucked away in the back of his skull and slowly melting like an icecube in the hollow of his cheek. "Hey, you don't know that. I mean, look at the district that we're in. I go out the door in rags and messed up in who knows what ways, people might just think I got a humiliation kink. I mean, they have alleys where the whole thing is exhibition not far from here, right?" So he's heard, anyway, rather than going to check it out.

Dimitri glances away for a moment, over to the door that's over in the corner, and the way his hair falls makes it just a little hard to make out some of the finer details of his profile. "If you're that curious, you're more than welcome to sign up for a session there," he says, and Claude thinks his tone has relaxed a bit. Just a bit! Hard to tell sometimes, with how dark and deep Dimitri speaks. "At any rate... I thought that bogging down the scene with too many planned details would bother you, since you said you were fine with improvisation, so I only have the base concept to offer for now. A boss having called over his secretary for surprise overtime to help with something."

Ooooh, he sees. Sexy office roleplay. Now Claude almost definitely wishes that he could have dressed up a little more. That's the kind of thing porn dreams of, right? It's as classic as chocolates on an anniversary. But then, it also means that his outfit is validated a little bit. If he's a secretary called on emergency overtime, then business casual isn't too bad, now, is it...?

"I can definitely work with that," he agrees, before glancing Dimitri over again. "So, with how you've been looking away, do you need a moment to get prepared yourself?"

"Just a few minutes to look the part more, to properly sell the scene." Stepping behind the desk properly, Dimitri crouches down and then there's the soft creak of unoiled hinges. Certainly not the worst that Claude has ever heard, but still probably more notable than he knows some people would prefer. Shuffling, rustling, a light thud here and there, before Dimitri rises up again. In his hands are tons of binders, folders, miscellaneous papers, that kind of thing. "Some props," he explains simply, before there's a pause. "Ah... But you do work in an office, do you not, Claude?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, that's right." There's admittedly more detail to it than that, but hey. They don't need to get into all the nitty gritty specifics. "Why, what's up?"

With everything set down on top of the desk, Dimitri crosses his arms. "Then, even as you use these props, you may want to ignore the specifics detailed on them. They are ultimately unimportant, simply to fit the look of the scene. Now. I'm going to finish on my end, and, when I step inside, we will begin. Understood?"

"You got it, boss," Claude says, and barely waits for the door to click shut before he's right over there at the desk. When Dimitri goes and says something like that, why, a guy has to go and take a look to see just what exactly would make him say it, right? Who on earth could resist something like that? Not Claude, that's for sure. Good thing he doesn't even have to waste time going around the desk when he can just lean over to snag something for a quick looks-see.

Within seconds of skimming the thing, Claude wheezes out a laugh, because he gets it. He so very gets it.

By the time that there's the swing of the door signifying Dimitri's return, Claude has already gotten most of the work transferred over to that nice little (big) coffee table. Sure, it's a scattered mess by all means, but Claude thinks that just adds to the charm. Certainly it adds to the realism, in his professional opinion. How many times have he and his own team sent papers scattering all over a conference desk while they worked together to figure out some stupid complicate little problem?

Sometimes not even complicated. Just kind of stupid. Or actually really stupid.

"You know, I was enjoying my day off," he says idly, keeping himself from looking up over at Dimitri for now. Just for now. He can have plenty of time to indulge in his curiosity, and that will probably be in less than two minutes. That's if he's being generous. Claude probably shouldn't be. "It was a really nice day off. I got to sleep in and everything. There was a big luxurious breakfast. I had dinner plans, if you're curious."

Big and fancy as the rug may be, it doesn't cover every single bit of floor space in the room. That much is made all the more clear by the sound of Dimitri's nice dress shoes clicking against the wood. Slow and deliberate. Dimitri has a tendency to do that, when he knows for a fact that Claude isn't looking at him. Nice little aural trick of his, Claude has to admit. Especially in a large office-type room like this, where the sound just has enough of an echo to it. The kind of sound that bounces into his ear, and rolls down his spine. "And that's why you get a generous overtime," Dimitri says, in a tone like a reminder. "So I won't listen to any complaints."

Ha. What a mean boss it seems that he's got. Claude grins, even as his hands move along the papers. "It's why I've got such a nice salary in general, I suppose," he concedes. "Just where would you be without me?" With that, he finally looks up, to lay his eyes on his brand new boss.

And what a boss he's got, as it turns out.

Dimitri already looked plenty good earlier, when he was just posing there by the desk in his nice button up and dark slacks, hair loose around his face as it so often is. But all cleaned up? Slick? The feeling is completely different when he has a nice tight waistcoat wrapped around his torso, showing off that broad chest of his so perfectly with pretty navy blue. It's a blue that matches the hair tye he now wears, pulling back that shaggy mane of his to something almost respectable - just almost, however, as though he too was just pulled from relaxing and had to make his hair look more decent than it was.

Then there's the tie. Oh, and then there's the tie. A pretty little patterned thing that Claude can already tell is no doubt made with some good sourced silk. What is it about just seeing a tie that gets his heart all fluttering? Maybe it's the mental image of just what fun creative uses a tie can be sourced for.

Maybe if he's really really bad, he'll get to see some of those uses.

While he's drinking in the view, Dimitri flashes him one of those dark looks he's so good at making with his eye alone. Really, it's a talent, especially considering he only has the one to work with as far as Claude knows. Lid lowered just enough to show how unimpressed he is, while his eyebrows don't budge too much and risk making it a real glare instead. "Don't let your salary start giving you a swollen head, now."

He can't help it. It's the perfect porn scenario, not real life. He has to say it. "Ah, if only I could get a different kind of swollen head with you around."

Yes. Yes. A part of Claude wants to break his bratty subordinate demeanor and just cackle to himself a little bit, because yes! He got to say it! He got to say the kind of stupid line that you only ever hear in a porno! It's the kind of thing that, in a lot of other scenarios, he'd probably get kicked out of the bedroom for saying it, but what can he say? Sometimes, it's just really stupidly fun to lean into that kind of nonsense. If nothing else, he can cross it off the bucket list.

Would Dimitri also kick him out of the bedroom if they were actually dating and this wasn't just something that Claude was paying him for? Hard to say. For all that his hair is pulled back, Dimitri is still partially facing away from him, staring down at some piece of paper or another. It actually takes a good few seconds before he finally looks up at him with what Claude can only describe as the most deadpan stare in all of existence. "Please go see HR about fixing your embarrassing sense of humor tomorrow when you return from your day off," he says flatly.

It's such a perfect response - going to HR not for the fictional sexual harassment but because the joke flopped. Claude's snort bubbles up through his nose enough to nearly make it hurt, and he glances back down to his very fake work with a grin. "Oh, you always say that," as though this is not the first time this naughty secretary has said something stupid and inappropriate. "Anyway. I've already got an idea of what's probably giving the guys downstairs some trouble. I don't suppose I could just write it down on a sticky note and then go home, could I? It'd be simple for someone else to follow the lead so long as I can find that."

"You always say that, and then it turns out that it is such a difficult and annoying matter that I must call you in again." Dimitri's little hand gesture, that broad palm swatting through the air as if knocking the very notion away outright, is so perfectly done that surely this can't have been his first time acting the role of a serious boss. Claude supposes that makes sense. "Stay, and get it handled. If you keep complaining..."

He doesn't finish with the threat. Just an idle thing said, almost, as though it doesn't really matter, the ending to that sentence. And it doesn't, does it? The specifics aren't important at all, in the end.

If Claude complains, then Dimitri will act. That is the most important part. That is all both of them need to know.

Well, his dom has so kindly set things up for him, hasn't he? Now it's up for Claude to play his own role, too, and be a wonderful little brat to wrestle back into place.

However, there's more to bratting (in Claude's personal opinion) than just throwing a fit and not doing anything. Ever since he made the appointment and realized his own predicament, he's had a lot of time to think on it, really. Just what exactly is the fun in throwing everything down right there at the start? It's like sex without the foreplay, BDSM without some dramatics.

Being a brat, he decided after a long time of thinking how he wanted to approach this session, worked best when it had something to contrast the brattiness against.

So he plays it quite nice and cool for a little while. Not ages, of course, but a good five minutes or so, patiently faking work and shuffling papers. He makes up names to reference so that he can make a pile and talk to Dimitri about vague enough work that has to be done with them. Considering he does work an office job, as Dimitri pointed out, he can fake it pretty well.

Dimitri fakes it pretty well too, he has to say. He just knows the guy has to be keeping a steady eye on him, so that he can respond quickly and decisively in this little scene that they've cooked up, but you wouldn't know it just looking at the guy.

Patient. No-nonsense. Knowing how to do more than just mindlessly shuffling papers and getting obviously antsy. It's like he's worked in an office himself and who knows? Sex work like this can be a fun and interesting thing, judging from what Claude's seen on the outside, but it's also not a kind of thing that some people jump into right away, or necessarily stick with consistently. Who knows what kind of life Dimitri lived before the Lion's Den.

Claude just knows this: what he's going to do. And it starts out like this:

He knocks a folder off of the coffee table.

"Whoops," he says, and almost manages to make it sound believable. "Could you get that for me, boss? I think I might be onto something for what got Leon and Ashley all mixed up."

Just for a moment, Dimitri pauses. No doubt he's taking in this latest change, and... probably smart enough to know that it's definitely outside of the quiet  routine that Claude has set for them. Still, it's not as though he refuses. Instead, he moves over, bending down in a seamless manner that nearly makes him look like a model. Just, perfect bend, kind of unbelievable, he has to admit. "I understand it was your day off, but I expect a little more professionalism than this," he says, letting the folder fall carelessly and, arguably, making a slightly bigger mess as the papers within threaten to slide out. "Try to keep that in mind."

"But of course." Claude winks up at him. "Nothing but pure professionalism in mind over here. I'll keep these fingers more on the ball."

And he means that! So of course he doesn't "accidentally" let slip another folder again. He has more standards than that! He's better than that.

He smacks his elbow into a stack of papers.

Deep within his poor corporate-shackled heart, a part of Claude cringes so hard that it might be felt in future generations. If this were a real job, then he'd have to spend ages not only picking everything up, but looking through it all carefully to make sure it was all in order, too. There's very few things quite as embarrassing as getting a stack of papers together, thinking that it's all good, and then showing it to someone important, only for there to be that awkward and heart-killing moment where they pause, squint, glance at the bottom of the paper, and then both parties involved needing to shuffle through it to find the right page number.

But you know what? It doesn't matter here. He can watch all those pretty sheets of white flutter and swoop through the air and it's not his problem.

Well. Kind of it's not his problem.

Dimitri's absolutely dead eyed stare implies that it will be his problem, soon, in short order, as the paper swoops back down to the ground at the request of gravity. "I see your day off was making you far too last," he says, in the deep, dark voice of his. Real hard to regret any of his actions when he talks like that, Claude has to say.

Claude bats his eyelashes. "Well, I did warn you that I was settling in to sleep late and be cozy," he tells him innocently. "Of course I'm not 100% at my best for work. Can anyone really blame me for that?"

Ever so slightly, Dimitri's eye narrows. However, true to form as a proper dom in a scene, he doesn't just lunge for Claude right away. Instead, he breathes in (Claude doubts he's really as annoyed as someone in his actual position would be) and his expression relaxes a bit. By that, it's still that serious and sexy stern look of his, just not weighed down by any sort of tension. "I suppose not," he says, which, well. That's not the kind of worked up annoyance Claude was aiming for. Still, he's interested to see where this goes. "As your boss, I should be understanding of your particular situation."

For an actual employee who has made a mess up during work, really, that would be a wonderful thing to hear their employer say. Seriously, would leave fantastic reviews on the internet for workplace expectations. But for this, Claude himself is the one who has to actually pause a moment. "Glad you're so understanding," he says, as a placeholder, while his brain tries to see exactly what the catch is.

Dimitri isn't done yet. "I think I know exactly how to help you come back to a proper professional mindset," he says, leaning down to pick up some of the papers off of the floor. "Here. I'll leave the rest to you."

Hm. Curious to see just where Dimitri is going with this, Claude goes ahead, getting down on his own knees so that he can pick up all the papers which still remains on the floor. Frankly, Dimitri was rather generous with what he got back onto the table. There's only a few left for Claude to deal with, although he has to admit they're all the most annoying ones to pick up. You know, the kind that ended up sliding the farthest on the rug, or those that went under the coffee table, even a couple that went underneath the couch.

Yeah, it's definitely his problem now, just like at work, Claude has to admit while bending down far forward. There's no other way to paw the other page back a little closer to him. While he does so, squinting into the gloom between frame and floor, his ears catch the sound of wood sliding against wood, the faintest of clinking.

Not knowing, as much as he hates it in every other aspect of his life, only serves for arousal to curl in the pit of his stomach and heat up right there between his legs. Just because he knows the sound, can hear just a bit of metal, doesn't mean he knows exactly what Dimitri has planned.

He's excited to find out.

There's no need for him to wait long. He's just managed to pull himself out from underneath the couch, straighten up, when he can feel a presence right there against his back, and Dimitri's fingers sliding along his jaw. "It wouldn't do for me as your boss," Dimitri murmurs, "if I didn't help give you a bit of guidance when you're clearly struggling. It was my own request that brought you here, after all." And it's right there, with those fingers sliding his chin upwards, that Dimitri takes that moment to slide something nice and sturdy there around his throat.

This isn't the first time that Claude has worn a collar, nor does he figure it will ever be the last. It is the first time a collar has ever come to rest around his neck while he's wearing a shitty little polo shirt, however, and it's no small collar, either. It's... thick. Well made, sturdy, the kind of thing that corrects his neck posture without even trying.

Yet that's not the only thing getting straightened out. His hand, the one he had been using to brace against the floor, is pulled back behind his back, and there's something else now, too. A cuff. Leather, no doubt, just like the collar, and just as sturdy but soft with its nice lining.

And just like his collar keeps his neck in place, so too does the cuff keep one arm folded there behind his back, a neat little 'L'.

Whatever connects cuff and collar must be some pretty sturdy stuff, no loose chain or anything else. Cloud can't see it, for some fairly obvious reasons, but he can tell that much with how his arm can't move much at all. Just his fingers, flexing in and out, brushing against something else. Something that still lays a dangling weight attached to the collar. Claude has a pretty good guess on just what it might be back there, brushing against the back of his shirt.

"This is a pretty new way of helping your beloved secretary out," Claude says, able to feel the way the collar tightens around his throat with the simple and natural movements that come with speaking. "I didn't know you were in the habit of giving accessories."

"Does the company tee shirts I give away every year mean nothing then?" Dimitri says with a deadpan so beautiful that it actually makes Claude choke in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the collar around his throat. As though he didn't just say one of the funniest things in the world, Dimitri continues. "Besides... It seems as though, due to you relaxing so completely during your day off, you've gotten terrible with your posture, and hand-eye coordination. This should help keep you focused."

His fingertips brush along the tip of Claude's neck, teasing the hairs along the nape, while the collar is secured firmly in place. No chance for it to slip, or to mess with the positioning of his arm, either.

"So I expect you to do a little bit better now, Claude. We wouldn't want any more accidents."

Just like that, Dimitri steps away, and Claude breathes a little easier, unaware how he'd been holding his own breath for the simple purpose of soaking in the other man's presence behind him. Yet just wanting to turn back and look at Dimitri is a little harder than he would have thought, three minutes before. He can't turn his head so easily with such a nice collar there in place. Instead, Claude has to turns nearly his entire torso to follow the sight of Dimitri just walking away without a care in the world, going back to the desk to inspect some meaningless piece of paper or such. As he does so, he can feel the muscles in his shoulder shift along with the cuff, the positioning of his arm in that perfect little 'L' shape.

Claude grins, adrenaline kicking up just a little bit, and flexes his fingers one by one against his palm. "Heard you loud and clear, boss."

And he really does do his best after that. Claude swears he does. The positioning of his arm and the collar around his neck, they might seem like just a couple of really minor changes, but they do so very much. No longer is Claude able to simply twist around to grab some stupid little paper or another. No longer can he simply tilt his chin down to even fake reading what is on the paper.

He considers not even faking the reading, quite honestly. Tries it out. Yet for all of his presented professional apathy, Dimitri is doing a wonderful job as a watchful dom, because he calls him out on it near immediately. "If you want to leave this bit of overtime on time, I expect you to read what you sort, Claude," he says dryly, not even looking at him to give the order. It makes something electric curl around the base of his spine. "Or else I will have to call you back all over again, and you were looking forward to this weekend, yes?"

So he has to actually look at the papers, of course. And he can't just lean lazily over the coffee table, not anymore, because the collars presses down against his throat, reminds him of his presence, and so what else can he do? Lean his whole body over the coffee table and look like a dunce about it? Easier to just pick up each paper and holds it up to his face as though he's an old  man who lost his spectacles and now has to make an embarrassment of himself in public.

"Doing alright, Claude?" Dimitri asks him, as though he didn't just trap one of his arms behind his back, and is looking for literally any excuse to give it a partner.

"Doing peachy," Claude says, half because that's the act he's decided to play for this scene, and also, if he's honest, half because he is actually incredibly stubborn and refuses to lose just because of one little handicap. Or, well, two, kind of. It's going to be fine. He's determined to make it fine. Yes, he knows that he's going to get dicked down and it might be better if he just surrendered to it, but, well. So sue him. A competitive part of his brain has kicked in, and he can't pull the breaks on it.

It wouldn't be very bratty of him if he just gave in so neatly, now, would it?

Of course, it's easier to think that kind of thing than it is to put it into action - the story of so many goals in his life, from the personal to the professional. Still, well, he wouldn't be anywhere if he wasn't stubborn. So Claude does his best, having to put even more concentration into the simple act of looking at papers and organizing them.

At first, it goes pretty well, he would say. And then it goes all to shit all too quickly, as things so often do, and, well. There's really no stopping a pile of papers from toppling over once the process begins. Not when he only has one hand to work with, and its connecting elbow is what started the problem in the first place.

"Shit," he says.

"Language," Dimitri replies, even as he sighs and sets down the folder he was flicking through for absolutely no reason. It's wholly unsurprising to Claude that he walks over to him after that, one hand partially slid down his pocket as he looks over the mess that's come to a slow stop right there all over the floor. It is, admittedly, a decent amount of paper. Not the biggest stack that Claude has seen fall down in an office setting, thanks to working around Raphael (poor guy and his giant muscles), but, you know. Definitely far over the line of what Claude would have liked to knock over.

Alright, so, the number of papers that Claude would have liked to knock over is currently 'zero' at this very exact second, but that's what he means by definitely far over the line.

Dimitri looks down at him. Claude just looks up, still awkwardly positioned with his elbow braced against the coffee table from where he'd been a sort of half-hearted and last-ditch attempt at grabbing some papers (unsuccessfully) before they fell. "Hey," he says, casually, plopping his chin down onto his hand while it's still free. You know. As though this is a situation that can be salvaged in any capacity.

Just as expected, he's proven wrong within seconds as Dimitri takes him by the back of his collar, and Claude is unceremoniously shoved face first right there against the back cushions of the couch. "I had thought that you perhaps would have taken this opportunity to do a little self reflection," he says, a hint of that attractive growl rolling up through his throat. Claude's remaining free arm is taken, although not as hard and rough as he would have thought. "Yet I see that you are still incapable of messing about as a form of rebellion just because some trivial plans were interrupted. Things you could do at any time." There it is, that firm but soft feeling around his wrist, the way it is completely impossible to move away from. On his knees, face in the cushions, Claude can't even try to move. "A little more discipline is in order for you to take your work seriously."

Only then does Dimitri move away, and so too is that overwhelming pressure - something not as physical as his knee against Claude's spine yet somehow still tangible in some mysterious way. Letting out a slow breath, Claude straightens up again. The carpet is sure soft, for sure, and yet there's still an ache right there in his knees as he puts all of his effort and weight there.

What else is he supposed to do? It's not as though he can use his hands.

"I'm glad that I have a boss that is so considerate to clearing up his subordinate's flaws," Claude manages, without too much strain at all as he adjusts his knees and feet beneath him to properly turn around. "Although I have to wonder how exactly you expect me to get any work done when I'm all tied up with a few different things." He tries to tug his hands a little bit to show what he means, but it's no use. They're completely trapped in place. "My hands are full here, boss."

Dimitri only barely gives him a little bit of sanctuary. He steps back, just enough, so that Claude doesn't destroy his neck looking up at him and meeting that single cold blue eye. A perfect look of being perfectly unimpressed. "I always took you to be a little more inventive than that," he says. Even as he comes closer, bending down to where Claude kneels, something about him gives off an air of being utterly untouchable. It doesn't matter that he actually reaches forward, his fingers curling underneath Claude's chin, still a little warm from how they held him down moments before. His thumb grinds against his chin, just for a second, before it slides upwards. "You should know that there are plenty of other ways to get things done... shouldn't you?"

Really now. Claude supposes he could play stupid, act like he has no idea what Dimitri is asking of him... Yet that ship has probably sailed with the way that he grins up at the blond. "What a mean boss I have, demanding that I keep going when I can't do my best."

There's no shying away from Claude's gaze, his grin. Dimitri only stares right back, now, and a slow vicious little smirk spreads across his own face. "Yet it would behoove you to figure out a way."

It's kind of unfair, the power that a professional dom has clearly learned to wield. All he was doing was holding Claude's chin, his thumb brushing against his lip, and that alone is enough for Claude to want him right back in place instead of pulling away like he does. Still, he's an experienced sort. He doesn't let himself show how eager he is already. All he does is take a breath, and shift back on his knees. "That's a boss for you," he says. "Always asking for more and more when you've proven how good you are. I expect a little more vacation time for this."

"You get only what you deserve."

There's no need for Dimitri to say anything more. Certainly he doesn't seem to think so at any rate, with how he walks away just to lean right there comfortably against his desk, watching him. Claude doesn't immediately understand it, not with how he's still adjusting to the way his arms are folded behind his back so neatly... but he's a quick study. Always has been.

Considering that the papers he accidentally knocked over are still scattered all over the floor, there's nothing left to do but clean things up himself.

It's a pain in the ass just on a regular basis to pick up paper spilled onto the floor, honestly. Sometimes it's just too damn slippery, and thin. Really inevitable that a person is going to spend a second or two longer just trying to get a good grip on the thing in a way that doesn't absolutely destroy it when you want it looking nice and presentable so that your coworkers or business partners or boss don't think you're an absolute slob. Business is all about presentation, infuriatingly enough, even when the presentation is just over nonsense.

There's absolutely zero chance of a good presentation when he's trying to pick up paper with his mouth. Logically, Claude knows that. It's just not going to happen. Yet for a split second, he really does consider it as he shuffles his knees around so that he can face where most of the paper has fallen.

And then he remembers that if he tries to do any delicate paperwork with just his mouth, there's a 90% chance he's going to get a paper cut on his tongue, and he's definitely not going to be eligible for any oral moments in this scene, and that decides it.

Biting straight into paper isn't the most pleasant sensation in the world. Still, if there's any good news, it's that it's still fairly fresh paper instead of old paper that's been gathering dust on someone's cabinet for a week. Just the fresh bland taste of paper and, so long as he's quick, not much ink at all. Oh, it's not pretty, when he dumps it onto the coffee table, all crumpled and spit-ridden, the smell of soggy paper slowly filling up the air even with just minor amounts spilled...

Claude has to admit it's one hell of a workout for his jaw. Not only his jaw, but really his entire body - legs having to brace and tense extra hard to make up for the absence of hands giving him balance, his core from where he has to bend fully down to the floor, all of that. Claude has always joked that BDSM and an active sex life has done a lot for his body. This is more than he'd ever think of.

The problem, or at least one of them, is the disgusting taste of wet paper in his mouth, and he drops down perhaps the fourth attempt onto the coffee table before turning his head. It's automatic, really. He doesn't think twice about it. All he does is a small spit off into the carpet, paper too bland and yet overwhelming a taste where it coats the inside of his mouth. Just a single shot of saliva, as though that's all it will take to clear his mouth.

Dimitri's footsteps are the kind of thing that seem to be felt, sometimes, more than they're heard, or at least that's how it seems sometimes. That's especially how it seems right now, with Claude's head turned to the side, Dimitri out of sight, but not out of mind.

Not with those heavy footsteps that reach him in only but a few strides.

Instinctively, Claude knows that turning his head is just a waste of time. All he does is react with his body, faintly sore knees bracing against the carpet. It's not as though he can go anywhere, either. What he can do is make it easier for himself, legs moving along with the movement when he's grabbed by his shirt and hauled straight up onto the couch. "You know, you usually only grab people like this when they're about to insult a big name business partner," he says, still as smug as relaxed as ever. At least, he is on the surface. Inside his chest, his heart is pounding a mile a minute, faster than anything. "And yet here it's just the two of us."

The hand which had so tightly gripped his shirt shifts upwards, relinquishing its hold there only to slide into his hair. With the collar, there's only so much that his head can tilt back, but Dimitri pushes him to his limits, knee pressing there against the cushions as he remains towering over him. "No more playing cute," he snarls, even as his eye seems to shine all the brighter. "Here in my home, you would do something so revolting as spitting upon my things?"

So that's how he's playing it, huh? The last straw broken. Claude nearly can't think straight, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Probably, he should keep playing along with it. String things out for a little bit longer.

Instead, he just rasps out, "Think I'm cute, boss?"

To the surprise of neither of them, that earns fingers straight into his mouth which pin down his tongue. Distantly, in the back of his head, Claude thinks about how clean they taste, just a little bit of salt there. Probably done just for him, for the scene. It's really all he can manage to think about, considering how the rest of Dimitri's fingers help brace against his jaw to keep his mouth forced open.

"You really are an insubordinate little thing," Dimitri tells him, as though that's news. The collar bites into the back of his neck, right at the junction where it meets his skull. "All you do is mouth off, despite being in such a position where so many others would do unspeakable things to reach. All I ask is that you do your job and are respectable in my own office. One would think that is not so difficult to do, and yet here we are. Is your mouth truly only good for nothing but mouthing off to me constantly, despite how I am the reason you have this job?"

Claude arches his tongue up against those rough fingerpads, and makes a sort of noise that might be a gurgle of some sort.

Fortunately, Dimitri isn't looking for an actual answer. All he's looking for is the best way to remove his other hand from Claude's hair, and reach down to his pants. "Well," he says, the sound of his zipper incredibly loud in Claude's ear. Louder, even, than his heartbeat. Between his legs, a heat that's been patiently and steadily growing flares up and aches. "I think we can find something else to do with this impertinent mouth of yours."

The fingers drag themselves out of his mouth, take their sweet time pressed down against his tongue, before their absence only makes his lips all the hungrier. At least he doesn't have to wait long. A proper hypocrite in the fashion only doms can be, Dimitri ignores all cleanliness to maneuver himself further up against the couch with his legs straddling Claude's body. One knee presses up past his shoulder, there at the back of the couch cushions. The other brackets his opposite side with ease. Why wouldn't it be easy? With how his arms are still pulled behind his back, fingers scrunching up the cushions right beneath him, there's nothing blocking Dimitri's way.

It's all too easy for him to get into the perfect position to slide his cock right between Claude's lips.

Some people have always said that Claude has a big mouth, although he'd like to make a correction to that in that it's only big for all the things that don't matter. Dimitri's cock? That matters quite a bit, and he's more than glad to have a big mouth as the stretch pulls at his jaw, and the thickness of him keeps his tongue absolutely stuck in place with no chance to wiggle it around. All he can do is be pinned perfectly in place.

And this is just Dimitri while he's mostly flaccid, as far as Claude can tell. Thinking about him when he's all worked up, all the way deep in Claude's throat... His own arousal begins to push up against his pants, just a bit.

"There," Dimitri pants as he presses down further and further into Claude's throat, finding no resistance. Claude's proud to say he's flexible... and while that's not exactly the kind of term to use for one's throat, he can take in something this long and thick down with no troubles at all. "A stop to all of your nonsense. I have to say, it suits you much better than your work desk."

Can he even make a quip here? Dumb question. He knows he can't. That doesn't stop him from working his tongue up against the massive intrusion, or the muffled noise he makes somewhere so deep in his throat that it might as well still be stopgapped right there in his chest.

Not that he really needs the words, they both know that. It's all a part of the show. It's all for Claude to really feel his inability to speak, and for Dimitri to make that small scoff that's almost darkly amused. "Maybe this should be your new title," he says, continuing on his dark and heavy voice, some of it strained now as he reaches the end of the road - or, at least, as far as they can go when he has Claude in this position where he's trapped between the plush comfort of the couch and the demanding careful weight of Dimitri's body. It's still an incredible amount of dick, pressed throughout all his mouth and down into his throat. It's all he can smell, that faint hint of musk which rolls in from Dimitri's pelvis and makes is way through his nose. "Private cocksucker."

Claude likes his job. Is satisfied by the work he does, and his own stubbornness most of all. But with the way Dimitri is buried right deep into him, how he slides up against every single bit of his throat and tongue as he drags himself out up again, those fingers pulling at his hair...

What a fantasy. What a thing, to not have to think anymore, and just lose himself to the fuzziness in his skull where the only thing he has to care about, the only thing to focus on...

Would be the salty taste of Dimitri filling up every single centimeter of his mouth.

Dimitri's voice filters into his ear, the meaning of the words coming in a second later. The kind of delay that Claude gets sometimes when he's switching between languages. "Such a tight throat for how loose your lips flap, you know. Mmm - squeezes down on me perfectly with every thrust. Like you were born for it. No more dealing with any of your smart mouth during meetings, or toying with the schedule as a joke. Just keep you right there under my desk for whenever I need you, mouth held perfectly open with a bit of metal and leather."

And probably it should be embarrassing how hard that makes his dick twitch, the crotch of his pants already starting to get stained wet with precum. Probably that's what he should be feeling right now. It's not. All Claude can focus on is how much, now, he wants an o-ring there, right in his mouth, the stretch of it.

Unnecessary, probably, considering Dimitri's, well, everything. Especially his everything as he rolls his hips more and more in practiced movement, no awkward stuttering or movements. Smooth as silk, as butter, as the way his budding arousal becomes so firm and pressed down so much against his tongue that Claude can feel every little twitch and veins. He swears it. It's almost addicting, relaxing, head slipping into something sweetly blank where he doesn't have to scramble his fingers against the cushions.

Even the stretch is becoming something numbing, constant, comfortable. Like keeping an arm stretched all the way out, where the pain is low and sweet. Claude knows what he's doing, knows exactly how to keep this throat relaxed. Not hard at all.

Unlike Dimitri's arousal, undeniable, pressing so far back into his throat that he can gulp around it and feel the entirety of his throat convulse around hot flesh. Breathing is half a dream, sometimes, except for when Dimitri pulls back. Then he rasps in air from his nose, pulls everything in and out, fills up for just a split second before Dimitri is in there again, in him, and his mind is nothing but pure bliss.

Time gets to be just a little inconsequential there, for a second, fading away in favor of the reassuring rhythm of Dimitri's hips and the heat which pounds right there inside of his mouth, his throat. Every single breath gets swept up in the heady scent of Dimitri, the sweat and warmth of him right there in front of Claude's nose. Then it's sealed up again. Just like that, back to the rhythm and the heat. There's a pleasure to it, although a very different kind of pleasure than the one incessantly hitting a slow burn right beneath the belt.

When Dimitri finally growls out a simple set of words - "Hold still" - eager anticipation bites at Claude's heels. Even with that simple vague command, he already knows exactly what's coming. There's only one outcome.

And he's practically hungry for it.

Dimitri's release is thick as it pours all the way straight into his throat; there's hardly any need for him to even swallow. It just rolls in and all his throat can do is frantically gulp it down as fast as he can, without choking. He's dizzy with the effort, how it seems as though it will never end... And then there's Dimitri pulling himself out, a thick trail of mixed saliva and cum connecting the two of them for a moment.

In a way that is unfortunately not very sexy or elegant, Claude coughs up a wonderful spittle-semen combo - partially over his own shirt, probably, and also almost certainly onto Dimitri. Maybe some of the papers, if he's lucky enough. It's kind of hard for him to tell when he's still kind of left leaning into the couch, a straight rod of a human being that's otherwise not straight in any other capacity. "For your new job, you did admirably well on the first day," Dimitri says, in a way that's sort of distant and dream-like.

Very different from the extremely physical and not at all distant way he cups his palm against the bulge right there in Claude's pants.

"Okay," Claude says, after his brain has stitched itself back together after yet another explosive orgasm, and the restraint has been removed from both neck and wrists. He's kind of slumped all across the couch, which actually has a good deal less semen on it than he thought it would have. "I know that I said that I put on clothes that I didn't care about getting ruined, but I wasn't exactly expecting you to really take that to heart, I won't lie."

Not only are the collar-cuffs completely removed, but so too are all his clothes, leaving him completely ass-naked right there on the couch. This is probably not the first time this has happened to the furniture in question, honestly, and he doesn't need Dimitri to tell him that. All Dimitri is doing is putting his very messy clothes into a little plastic bag. So considerate. First class treatment at the Lion's Den.

"It's only a minor stain that will come out with some washing," Dimitri says dismissively. Even in this sort of dazed state, Claude can tell that he absolutely has to be struggling with maintaining the kind of distance he had in the elevator and something a little more reassuring for aftercare. That has to be it, right? He's positive that it is. There's literally no other explanation. "The Den will handle it. In the meanwhile, I could have swore that I told you to stop speaking so much when your throat is rasping like that..."

Well, now that he mentions it like that, Claude thinks it might have been said. It's just also the last thing on his mind. "Mmm," he says anyway, taking in the way just that simple sound grates along the back of his throat. He's at least recovering a little better - he hadn't hit subspace quite as hard as one of the last times. He thinks. Probably.

It's not exactly complete silence on his part, that answer, but it seems to do well enough for Dimitri. He finally pulls back from where he's been rummaging in the desk again, this time with a nice little robe there in his hands. "Can you get up onto your feet?" he asks.

Claude wants to say he can't, frankly speaking. Not because he actually can't. It's just, after being carried around in those nice strong arms before, he thinks he's gotten a bit of a taste for it. Fortunately or unfortunately (all a matter of terrible perspective), their session this time didn't exactly fuck the life out from underneath his own two feet. All the sexy sexy sex damage was in his throat over everything else. So after a bit of dramatic sighing that rasps up through his throat, Claude pushes himself up straight on the couch. "I can put on a robe at the very least," he informs him, holding his hand out.

There's another small sigh at him still talking. Still, the robe is handed over, and Claude bundles himself up in it. He has to say, it's extremely soft for being an item that's probably been worn by a bunch of different people in the Den's run time. No cheap shortcuts for the Lions, huh?

Only problem is that it makes him want to just sink back down onto the couch again, maybe take a nice little nap. Before he can so much as glance back to the couch in consideration, however, there's Dimitri again, hand at his elbow. "The cleaners will be coming in soon to help make this place presentable again," he tells him. "I'll escort you to the rest area we have on this floor."

"Fancy," Claude says, as though that isn't just good practice to have when you're a business as detailed as the Den is. It's a bother to the customers, after all, if they have to be taken all the way back down to another floor for their aftercare. Much better for them to just go right down the hall, with Dimitri's arm around his shoulders keeping him upright and comfortable. Probably it'd be better if each room had its own little space, but that would probably ruin some of the vibes for particular scenes and cost even more as well.. Business sense is all about juggling little things like that.

And it's a pretty nice room, too. Not too extravagant in its decoration, but nice. Cozy. There's a little tiled nook with a small tub in it for anyone who might need it, and then, opposite to that, a little kitchen area. Add in a nice cozy couch that looks like it could fit guys far taller than Claude, and, well, it's a nice little haven with not too much that would overstimulate an already antsy and sensitive client.

Considerate as ever, Dimitri helps him down onto the couch where Claude promptly curls up in his most comfortable way, and then he's off over to the small kitchen area. No reason for the bath today. Well, that's fine. Sometimes, it's nice to mix things up in the afterglow too. Claude will just have to make sure to be more specific in his next session sign up.

For now, he's perfectly content with just watching Dimitri's back as the man goes through the small selection that is available here. "Ginger tea was one of your preferences, wasn't it?" he asks over his shoulder. "I will make that for your throat then."

Ginger tea sounds great right about now, Claude can't lie. And yet that's still not on his mind as he watches Dimitri's shoulders shift and move, all in accordance with his hands as he sets things up. He's still in that nice and tight little professional get up from their scene, so Claude can see just about everything, honestly. Nothing at all like that baggy hoodie which had done its absolute best to hide everything, to no avail.

Normally, he'd approach things more carefully. He would. Yet maybe it's just because his mind is fuzzy, or because he's under threat of drifting off for a moment as the smell of ginger fills his lungs. So many things like that.

So many excuses that have him ask, "So do you guys pick up ginger tea at that little hole in the wall where I saw you last time?"

Even a little bit facefucked stupid as he is, Claude has a few habits that are just too bonedeep to not be active at all times. He's proud to say that his skills of observation count in those. When Dimitri hesitates for just that split second, he picks up on it instantly. Or, at least, close enough to instantly. "We have our own supplier that delivers directly to the Den," Dimitri says, still not facing him properly. "It was good to see that you were in good health and energy so soon after our prior session."

Considering what Claude remembers of Dimitri's expression from back then, like a cat caught rummaging in the cupboards for treats to tear through, Claude has a feeling that's just a little bit of a fib. "Mmmm," is what he says in the end, which isn't quite an answer he guesses. "The aftercare in this place always is top notch. I just had a little bit of a craving when I woke up." He wiggle-shifts in place. "Guess you did too, huh?"

Dimitri's words are slow and careful. "The Den had other business in the area that I was seeing to. Afterwards, I was feeling somewhat tired, and so that was why you did not see me at my best when we encountered one another in that store. You... have my apologies for the messy sight which you were subjected to."

...Huh. This is feeling somehow way more awkward than he ever could have imagined in his head, and he was honestly imagining it being really awkward on his end more than anything. Dimitri seems more stilted than truly upset, but still. Something about the situation has Claude sitting a little straighter, tone subconsciously easing into casual and relaxed. "Nah, I mean, you were off the clock, weren't you? It'd be silly to think of you in just being in nice scene suits or walking around topless, especially in this weather." He thinks he recalls reading something about how the Den is mostly staffed by Faerghans, and there's a long-running joke that those people are just bears in human-skin, but hey, regardless. As someone who doesn't have bear-blood in him, Claude wouldn't subject that to anyone. "You're a guy as much as anyone else. Although I didn't think the string cheese would be a favorite of yours."

There's no reason it wouldn't be, of course. It's just... funny, somehow.

There's nothing left to really do with his hands while the water heats up, as far as Claude can tell from his position, and yet he suspects that's not the reason why Dimitri has gone a bit still. "It is nice to have after a long day," he says, and he's definitely stiffer than he is normally when he talks, right? "Your expectations weren't lowered for this session from seeing that?"

If he were some sort of cartoon right now, Claude knows there would be question marks floating around his head. "From you just having a snack?" he asks, although it shouldn't even be a question. "Of course not. I'm only paying you for the time that we have together in our scenes. Everything else after that - Seriously, that can't be my business or problem, right? What kind of person expects someone to be on twenty-four seven?" Hell, that exact problem is exactly why he's signed up as a member of the Lion's Den in the first place. If he didn't have something...

That particular train of thought doesn't have a lot of time to go much further down the rails. At least, not before Dimitri finally glances back over his shoulder...

...with that single blue eye of his so big, and so soft, and so- so -

"You are certain, then?"

Is this gap moe?

That thought flickers through Claude as all he can do for a split second is smile and stare at the incredible change which has washed over Dimitri as he stands there. It's almost like a magic trick, honestly. No more is there the imposing and silent and occasionally gruff dom that drew him into the Lion's Den to start with. Instead, there is a sort of slump to his shoulders that washes away all of his presence, and his brow is swept upwards in a sort of tentative and worried hope. It's the transformation of a wolf into a stressed little puppy.

Stressed. Right, right. He can't get lost in his head for any longer than just a second. "Well, of course I'm certain," he says, and somehow feels a little more clear-headed. Who wouldn't be, after a shocking change of scenery like what he's just gotten? At least it's not the worst way to jump out of subspace. "I mean, I know how much work goes into being a dom. You deserve a little time for yourself without worrying about me, I get that."

Actually, he more than gets that. Even as he talks, there's something hitting the back of Claude's brain, and it's the fact that the aftercare in their sessions has always been focused on him. Yeah, he's paid for it, but what about Dimitri himself? Doms need almost as much aftercare as subs, if not more.

Those thoughts don't have long to roost. All it takes are his words before Dimitri turns back to him with a relieved smile and, "Well, thank goodness, then! I had been rather worried that it would have disrupted the session in some manner if that was still on your mind. It's a blessing that you were so easily able to forget it!"

Claude very politely doesn't mention it did in fact haunt his brain just a little bit, but for entirely different reasons. "Well, you know," he says instead, trying to play it off as the kettle whistles again. "It's no big deal."

Turning back to the mugs he has ready, Dimitri says over his shoulder, "Still, I do appreciate it. Some people can be rather particular with what they see of their doms, so I do normally try to stay rather, what is the word... low-key when it comes to being out and about. This went rather well, I think."

Ugh. Now that he's gotten over the shock just a little bit, Claude makes a face. "I'm going to be real with you, but that's just ridiculous. I mean, that's just making your job a full-time thing that takes over your entire life, instead of something you clock out of. We're only paying you for the time that we have with you, not your whole day." Well. Generally speaking. Probably there are people who do that kind of thing, for all sorts of reasons.

It's not a surprise to him that Dimitri merely shrugs while he pours the tea for them. "It can be rather bothersome sometimes, although some of the others deal with it less or more, depending on their style of doing things. Mercedes actually has to deal with it a bit more sometimes, although she's also far more skilled with putting down such attempts to bother her while she's off the clock. Still, while it is hardly life-changing, I still prefer to keep things as separate as I possibly can. Besides, for some, it helps them keep a clear and sturdy line for professional purposes. They get burned so badly by prior bad experiences, that they only want to know the professional face. Normally as time passes, they get over it, of course..."

Nice explanation and all, but it doesn't quite wipe the frown away from Claude's face even as he accepts a warm mug of tea. "I suppose, but this is a bit too far... And it sounds like they wouldn't think about aftercare, either."

"Well, for a professional business such as ours, we wouldn't have the client do our aftercare regardless," Dimitri explains, settling down besides Claude. Now that he's got his question asked, the dom actually seems far more relaxed. This isn't at all how Claude thought their relationship would settle back down again, but he'll take it. "That is fine when it comes to interpersonal relationships without money involved, of course. However, for us, we prefer more experienced hands to deal with such matters, who are trained in first aid, or mental health, at least in regards to the aftermath of a session." A thoughtful sip of his mug. "Ah, and that is also a way for some to keep the professional line properly in place."

"Seriously? How?"

With one more sip, Dimitri sets his mug down besides him. "It's just bad prior experiences - they happen more often than some think if they are not involved in the kink scene, or at least the scene here in this city. There are quite a few people who simply want to engage in kink on its own, without a romantic development or relationship being involved. There are many reasons for this sort of thing, really... I can't speak on it personally."

Claude huffs out a bit of a laugh. "I mean, it does look a bit as though you're involved in it for the money, or at least that's a factor that would drive away romantic aspirations." Still... Yeah, he thinks he's heard about scenarios like that, now and then, just from casual chatter. "Aromatic kinksters, right?"

"That is certainly one type of individual who often runs into this sort of scenario." Dimitri raises a finger. "After all, when it comes to the aftercare... That is when everyone involved is at their most vulnerable. Whether it is while they are in that sensitive state themselves, thus being more susceptible to heightened emotions, or because they read into the vulnerability of the other party... It's not unusual for what should have been a simple kink relationship to get rather messy quickly, from that." He lowers his hand with a small smile. "And so, to avoid that entirely, they go to a business like our own, where they know that we handle our own aftercare just fine."

Kicking his legs out from the blanket, Claude stretches out with a low hum. When Dimitri explains the entire professional business like that, it honestly makes a lot of sense. Not for him, definitely not. But it makes sense. "And then there's the people who are worried about doing aftercare incorrectly, or just don't have time for it sometimes..."

Dimitri nods along. "There are a great deal of reasons. I don't always ask, personally, yet I know a few tales, and many of the other Lions know even more. It isn't something that we inquire upon, of course."

"Of course," Claude echoes. When it comes to any kind of business, while the actual skills and details may change, well, one thing doesn't: picking up all sorts of knowledge and gossip from other people whether you're inquiring about it or not. Humans really are a chatty little species in the end. "Well, when you put it like that, it does make sense." Another nice long drink of ginger tea. Just the heat alone is enough to soothe the rough state of his throat. "Still, when I think about it, I almost feel lazy."

The statement draws out a softer kind of laugh from Dimitri than Claude is used to. "You shouldn't. You are paying us, so don't worry about it. Although if you really are interested in aftercare, then we can arrange that for another session. Some people actually do like the aftercare portion of things almost more than the entirety of the session itself."

Distantly, Claude wonders if Dimitri is that kind of person himself. Certainly, he's so carefully considerate and doesn't miss a thing in their aftercare session. And now, with the way he's transformed so much just from taking off the mantle of being a dom to sit here and talk with him...

Maybe one day he'll ask about it.

For now, he just closes his eyes and relaxes. "I'll think about it. Wouldn't be too bad to do that now and again, keep my skills sharp, all of that." And even though he knows that Dimitri is at least presenting the image of someone who is very much fine and relaxed with his situation, well. Maybe Claude just wants to work off some of his own guilt for not thinking about this sort of thing sooner. "So, was that why you acting so differently for this session, or at least in the lead up to it? You were pretty stiff there, big guy."

When he cracks an eyelid open to sneak a peek at Dimitri, the other man actually looks a tad embarrassed, almost hiding behind his mug. "Honestly, I was thinking that perhaps I needed to be a little more into the role of a severe dom so that our last meeting could be smoothed over," he admits. "And it had been so long since our last meeting as well, with how busy I've been since my schedule was so booked. I felt I had to make a good impression again."

"I think you just existing is making a pretty good impression on anybody who can see you," Claude teases, even as the stupid paranoid part of his hindbrain starts to relax a bit. They're already being more honest with each other; he doesn't see a reason to disbelieve Dimitri when he says that he really was busy.

Because of course he was. Obviously. Claude knew from the very beginning that Dimitri was one of the most popular doms in the Den. What was he so stressed out about anyway?

"Anyway," he continues while it's still on his mind. "If I make an appointment right now, do you think that I'll get more of a chance to see you sooner rather than in five more months?" It wasn't that long, but, well, he can whine a little bit, can't he? Just as a joke?

It seems to work, anyway, with Dimitri chuckling a bit. "We can definitely arrange for that, although after a little while." A huff. "I think, after all, that I told you that you shouldn't talk as much until your throat has had a little more time to recuperate from the session, and yet here you are with all the questions in the world."

Claude opens both of his eyes purely so that he can wink at Dimitri. "You wouldn't be the first person to complain about my talking a lot," he says, before he obediently takes another gulp of his ginger tea.

It honestly takes less time than they both think for Claude to feel better and more down-to-earth than he was at the end of their session. Dimitri just seems to take it as good luck. Claude doesn't tell him that he thinks he could have been shocked out of a coma by Dimitri acting so demure and unsure about things. So they actually have a good chunk of time to themselves and to look over what Dimitri and Claude's schedules will allow for the two of them.

If he's honest, Claude has to admit that he makes out his schedule to be a little more flexible than it actually is. Just a little bit.

Even better, Dimitri confirms with him that they can be a little bit flexible with deciding on the exact scene. "It would be better for you to think it over when you've had more time to recover from this session," he explains, just in case Claude is still feeling a little loopy from a good facefucking. Now that he's not in perpetual glowering mode, he has to admit that Dimitri really is extremely polite. "Just remember the paperwork we gave you that depicts the time limits on some scenes, and you should be fine."

"No worries. I won't spring something really complicated on you in just twenty-four hours," Claude promises him. "I'll hit you up in probably a couple of days, at worst. Wouldn't want this to drag on for too long, right?"

And that's that. Unlike with their last session, Claude is in perfectly fine walking condition - more than fine enough to make it all the way back to his apartment. It's a bit of a shame, honestly. He has to admit that he really liked being with Dimtiri that one time, out of it as he was... but he's only paying him for so much. So they depart with a pretty friendly wave before Dimitri disappears into the back rooms of the Lion's Den, and Claude hops out the front door all the way to the subway system.

It's a nice night. The night owls are still out in full force even with the time being what it is. Claude takes his sweet time enjoying all of it rather lazily as he makes his way back home: the wyverns dominating the skies since they do so much better at this time of day, the bustling cafes which help keep surprise night shifts going, all the bustling sex work which flashes by in advertisements only allowed to play around now.

There's something to be said for it all. A kind of reassuring buzz of noise and light which helps soothe his overactive brain, and let him drift off into his thoughts while he sits down comfortably until his stop.

Maybe if he'd had this sort of train ride back when he was stressing himself out all the time, worrying over something that he was overthinking far too much, he wouldn't have been so on edge when he'd stepped into the Lion's Den. But then, maybe this all works out too. After all, he's gotten to see something really interesting, he muses as the train slows down for another stop. With how Dimitri clearly is, how many other clients have gotten to see him take off his dom persona and talk so candidly about everything?

It's enough to make a guy feel just a little special, really, even if it'd just been because of his fat mouth running loose with nothing to pull on the reins.

But it's a good while to his own stop, and Claude has a lot of time to think. He ponders no small amount on the conversation him and Dimitri had, the kind of situations and personalities and little things which would have someone want to draw those 'professional lines' Dimitri had talked about. It's a good thought exercise, he finds. Lots of people have that kneejerk reaction, and then just stick with it. Harder to think of something one finds unpleasant, and then find something about its existence that they'd accept or understand.

Good way to keep his brain thinking, especially when it was kind of facefucked out of him for a minute there. Keeps him not exactly humble, but maybe a little bit wiser, or not such a jackass, too. Claude is rather pleased about it, considering he just signed up for a night of fantastic kink.

There's something else his mind keeps turning about too, although it's a little less... of a conscious effort. It just rolls about in his head, the same way he might fiddle with a pencil during a meeting, or tap his fingers against something just to hear how his fingernails tap against a new hard surface. "No romantic developments, huh?"  he murmurs to himself, before the signal for his stop sounds off, and he gets up to his feet.




"Alright, big guy, let's see 'em!" Sylvain declares cheerfully by way of his announcement into the Den locker rooms. He doesn't wait for an answer before he's coming right up to Dimitri and smacking his rear.

For anyone else, Dimitri would have... words to say for such an engagement, at the very least. Maybe worse things, depending on his mental state or mood. However, with Sylvain, this is almost a part of their routine. Frankly speaking, Dimitri supposes he would be more off-balance and worried if Sylvain wasn't so touchy-feely with him after all this time. If he were in a particularly stressed mood or coming off adrenaline, it might even be enough to make him just a little more worse.

Tonight, however, he's fine. So he is in more than enough of a decent mood to sigh and send a rather unimpressed look to his redheaded friend and coworker. "I am already half-dressed, Sylvain. What more do you need to see?"

"The whole package, of course." Sylvain plucks at one of the loopholes of his slacks, the belt he'd worn discarded on a nearby bench. "You know how it goes. No hoarding things all to yourself, lets see that pinup pose, Dimitri." Which is certainly a way to put it. Still, they've had this song and dance many a time before. Dimitri has long moved past his own stubbornness which has kept him sometimes near avoiding his friends on this.

So he finishes removing the nice clothes he'd put on for Claude's session, folding them up so that they can be set up neatly out of the way and to the side. He stays upright for a moment as Sylvain does a quick look over his body, makes sure that there's nothing left on his body that he might have missed.

Of course, there'd been no plans for that particular session to get rough, especially any roughness directed to Dimitri. Bratty subs might go that way, sure. Claude had simply not expressed any interest for that. The session as well left no real opportunity.

Yet one can only plan so much for a session. As it requires humans by way of simple fact, is in fact, made for humans... Then anything can happen. That's just how life goes. And so Dimitri knows that for every session, every member of the Den needs to be inspected, just in case they missed something with the rush of adrenaline that so often accompanies a session. Or, for some of them, what they miss when they're lost too deep in subspace.

Fortunately, Dimitri is pleased to say that he has nothing to worry about on this, and he can say that quite confidently. It doesn't take long for him to have a clean bill of health, and thus for Sylvain to shove a large and soft robe over his shoulders. "Alright, settle down," he says casually, as though this isn't his favorite part of his job. "How are we feeling?"

"Quite relieved, honestly," Dimitri admits, trying to pick up some of his session-wear before he forgets. It's not something he gets to make a lot of progress on, due to Sylvain whipping his own tie at him, but he does try. "Claude and I had a talk during the aftercare portion of his session, and it did clear some things up for me. I'm glad that he wasn't quite as bothered as some other more sensitive clients would be."

"You worry about what the clients think far too much," Sylvain sighs. "I'm always telling you, if they'd be chased off just from seeing you relaxing a little bit in a convenience store, then they shouldn't even be in the Lion's Den to start with. No one else stresses over this as much as you do."

Dimitri raises a brow. "Those are quite some words for you to say out of everyone, Sylvain."

"Ha ha. Well maybe it's exactly because I'm saying it out of everyone that I know what I'm talking about the most." Sylvain smacks at him again with the tie until he finally sits down next to him on the bench. Picking up the clothing will have to come later. "At least, I'm glad to hear that Riegan was good to you about the whole thing. I figured he would be when you first texted me that one night like someone who'd just had their crush see them buying a First Time For Kinksters book at a cheap grocery store. Not to say that my understanding of people is perfect and the best, but..."

"You say that constantly," Dimitri shoots back, fighting the smile that wants to grow along his face. "In fact, you have explicitly boasted as much before, and specifically stated that such a skill is what has allowed you to get so many clients for the Den."

Sylvain places his hand over his mouth to stop him from saying anything else, and in fact speaks even louder before he's even finishing. "Not to say that my understanding of people is perfect and the best, but I could see a kindred spirit in that guy. I knew that he wouldn't care too much that you dared to wear a stinky hoodie that I know for a fact that you haven't washed for five weeks. And don't give me that puppy dog eye of yours either. I've known you all our lives, that witchcraft doesn't work on me."

Always with the puppy dog eye. Dimitri has no idea what Sylvain is talking about when he mentions it. Quite frankly, he thinks his dear friend is lying about the entire concept. He also thinks that Sylvain is going to get bit if he keeps his hand on his mouth for any longer.

Fortunately, he does it on his own after a few seconds, and his words keep coming. "We haven't had him for too long, compared to some of our other regulars, but he's shown to be pretty flexible, honestly. There's always something to those clients who don't just come to us for one single thing, but rather to try out a whole bunch of different things. You know how it is."

Of course. Dimitri wouldn't say he's been in all of this quite as long as Sylvain, but both of them have been around long enough, and so Dimitri has had to deal with no small amount of clients to the Den. While not everyone who is strictly into one kink is bad, there can be certain... inflexible qualities which arise sometimes, depending on the temperament of the individual in question. People who settle so firmly into their preferences or habits that the slightest jostle against them can upset them far more severely than such otherwise would.

This isn't something restricted to either subs or doms, as far as Dimitri can tell while being fair to the ratio of both that the Den deals with. It's simply a bad habit that any can either come in with or develop as they spend time with any of the Lions.

In contrast... Dimitri rather likes Claude's flexibility and willingness to explore things he otherwise might not have the time or resources to look into himself. It can be somewhat troublesome, he supposes, if it require a bit more set up, but that hasn't been a problem yet. If anything, it makes those sessions a little more interesting as they try new things. "That reminds me, we set up the date of our next appointment, although he hasn't yet decided on anything concrete. However, during our conversation, he did express a bit of interest in engaging with aftercare for the aftermath, so we may have to consider that for future sessions."

He doesn't think he's said anything too strange or anything, yet there's a beat of silence after his words which draws his attention back to Sylvain. He's being stared at again, one of Sylvain's brows quirked up. "Yeah?" he says, perhaps a bit belatedly. "And you think that should be all fine and good, huh?"

He doesn't think he's said anything too strange or anything, yet there's a beat of silence after his words which draws his attention back to Sylvain. He's being stared at again, one of Sylvain's brows quirked up. "Yeah?" he says, perhaps a bit belatedly. "And you think that will go alright?"

Well, Dimitri supposes he can understand some of the concern. Claude is still a relatively new client of theirs, and he's been on the submissive end of things fairly consistently. Subs can be absolutely fine caretakers for aftercare, of course. Often, depending on the scene and how much is being demanded of the dom for the scene, that's almost a necessity. However, especially in their line of work, some aren't quite up to snuff when it comes to such matters. That's part of the reason, as he told Claude, that businesses like the Lion's Den prefer to have their own employees take over the aftercare rather than allow the client to oversee such a thing even if they do have the time for it.

But, of course, that doesn't mean it's impossible for a client to do the aftercare for their session, depending on the rules of the business and how much trust that they think their client has warranted. That, too, can be considered a way of playing to the client's desires.

Dimitri understands it, he really does. While he takes no small amount of pleasure in the session itself, for a wide variety of kinks and scenarios, well...

Sometimes he does have to wonder if he's in such things more for the aftercare than anything.

"It could," he says, not having to really think too heavily on the answer. "I can't be certain on how Claude handles aftercare when it is all in his hands, and of course it would have to be a session where we either have supervision or doesn't exhaust him as heavily as certain other scenes... But I see no reason to not give an attempt. In our sessions together, he's been flexible, as you said, and more importantly very understanding and doesn't try to 'cheat' out of the scenes or any such thing."

A problem, with some inexperienced or insecure subs. Rather than speaking beforehand about what they desire out of the scene, or because they misinterpret their role (whether brat or anything else), they buck against the dom in ways that hadn't been agreed upon... or even directly against what had been.

Claude does no such thing. There is no entitlement or uncertainty or shyness in anything to do with his style of submission. Dimitri rather likes it. "I think it should be fine, when we get to a scene that will work out well for it," he explains further. "Of course, I'll be sure to keep you updated on when that might be." As they all always do, when it comes down to the sessions they schedule down.

That is enough for Sylvain, at least for right now, and he heaves out a sigh. "Well, I'll trust you on that one. In the end, he's your client, so I guess you know him the best out of everyone, huh?" Hopping up to his feet, he wind the tie up in his hand and grins widely. "Now let's get you all cleaned up and relaxed for your next one."

"Sylvain, I swear if you smack me with that tie one more time-"