bakerstreet | the awkward boner meme.

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[warning] sex

the awkward boner meme.

the awkward boner* meme
*we all know awkward boners are equal-opportunity offenders. get in here, ladies.

it happens to everyone, right? the awkward boner. at a family dinner, during a meeting, in the middle of class, while you're talking to that person you really like. the awkward boner is indifferent to your humiliation. the awkward boner is merciless and cruel. the awkward boner is anywhere, anytime.

how to play

► post with your character name, fandom, and any preferences you might have.
► tag folks using the rng (or not) to pick a scenario from the list below.
► awkward boners for everyone!

why it's awkward

1. because you're in class. just keep your eyes on your work and pray your teacher doesn't ask you to stand up in front of everyone.
2. because you're trying to eat. whether in a public restaurant or just at the table with your family, it's going to be pretty difficult to enjoy your meal now.
3. because it's crowded. riding public transportation? waiting in line for something? stuck in a tight space with someone? that's rough, buddy.
4. because people are looking at you. maybe you're giving a speech or presentation, maybe you're a model or an actor. maybe you should fake sick and get out of there.
5. because you're talking to someone. tell another joke and maybe they won't notice how uncomfortable you're getting. any way we can wrap this conversation up?
6. because you're kind of busy. life-or-death busy, or just trying to get shit done? either way, not the time.
7. because they can't find out. you're super into this person. don't let them notice you're so turned on, or it might blow your chances.
8. because there's no hiding it. if you're wearing clothes at all, they're not doing much to help conceal your problem. good luck with that.
9. because there's no helping it. sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, erotic mind control, heat... whatever helpless-arousal kink you're into, do it.
10. because they shouldn't be hot. the worst kind: the kind that makes you question your own sanity. no way do you find that person attractive.
11. because that shouldn't be hot. the second worst kind: the kind that makes you question your own tastes. since when do you find that attractive?
12. because i said so. make something up! mix some together! mix them all together! do whatever you want, just do it awkwardly.

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[Summers in Luxembourg tend to reach a certain temperature, so in regards to tonight's menu, they'd decided to grill. Outside, on Claude's big Weber grill. Three large, whole ostrich steaks and one sliced for Mireille's salad, because the lady has requested something of a lighter nature than fat-dripping meat over smouldering coals.

Currently, she's occupying their bathroom - having excused herself in order to fix her makeup, leaving Claude and Jean Louis in each other's company alone. Because Vincent has decided to be a bitch and fix their starters rather than function as a conversational go-between.

Glancing to the side, Claude searches his brain for something that would be a fitting icebreaker.]

Have you been to any of the West African countries, Monsieur Duroc?

Edited 2014-02-10 15:27 (UTC)

[He supposes it's a fitting sort of justice - for Mireille to leave their company to fix their common damage. Annoyingly, Vincent has decided to leave as well, presumably not for the sake of make-up. Though to be fair, with people like him, who really knows?

The ostrich steaks look perfectly good, however, and watching them cooking gives him the added bonus of knowing exactly how they've been prepared. It's not that he's paranoid, per say; but he's acutely aware (necessarily so) that while Vincent is a decent acquaintance, his husband is less so. Less familiar. At Claude's comment, he looks up, expression neutrally polite.]

Certainly. The coastal countries in particular. [He straightens up a bit.] The first Ivorian civil war had me quite occupied.

Edited 2014-02-10 15:41 (UTC)

[West Africa is close to his heart, Senegal in particular, but the Ivory Coast is his point of origin - where his journey began, where his father lives and his intermediate landing time and again. Thus, the mention of the civil war is always just a bit hurtful. Like seeing your mother or sister harm herself unnecessarily.]

I have family living in the Ivory Coast. 2002-2007 were five tough years to be an outside spectator to their lives.

[As the African correspondent at Le Monde, he'd - of course - done his fair share of covering the conflict from within the country itself, but there came a time when the guns began to go off too close to him even for his boss to ignore and he'd been called back to France. Getting on that plane, to leave the Ivory Coast to its own devices had been one of the most difficult moments, if not exactly decisions of his life.]

Edited 2014-02-10 16:27 (UTC)

[He doesn't sympathise, exactly. After all, he's been selling weapons to the West African continent for so many years, the mention of any war is mostly a source of satisfaction. In any case, it's supposedly a sensitive topic to the other man and so, he keeps a slight smirk at bay with ease.]

I imagine so. [Seeing no need to encourage any further elaborations on the subject, he adds;] Family. Did you grow up in Africa, then?

[He doubts it. But with the French colonies, there's always a small chance he might be surprised at the answer.]

No.

[The thing about Luxembourgians, despite being (relatively) fluent in three languages - French amongst the three - is that they know nothing whatsoever about proper French, be it pronounciation or grammar. Mireille's French is passable, but she all but grew up on French soil as is. That Jean Louis can't hear that Claude is French through and through... doesn't surprise him. Not all that much.

Turning over the steaks once, he smiles slightly. His adolescent bitterness at his father's choice has faded by now, so he can manage that much.]

My father married an Ivorian woman when I was a child. Later I came to live with him and stayed in West Africa, on- and off for close to a decade.

[He nods. It's an exotic variation on a common theme, isn't it? A modern thing, for families to split up and re-assemble themselves in a different fashion. Amusing, though, to spend over ten years with the source of the change. He raises his eyebrows slightly.]

That's admirable. Most people would be bitter.

[Of course, he has no idea whether or not Claude's mother brought it upon herself. Knowing women in general, it's definitely possible.]

They were adults at the time, all three of them. Adults can take the consequences of their own actions.

[It's said with the slightest of shrugs. He still resents his father for leaving like he did. His mother for taking her bitterness out on their relation later. But the rest of it? No, they'd definitely been adults about it and accepted the state of things, as they were.

A flick of his wrist and the steaks are flipped over again. The heat from the coals is comfortable. Lazy, in its own way. Turning to face Jean Louis, Claude raises his chin slightly. Absentmindedly, he notices that the shorter man is definitely attractive, if somewhat of a political arsehole. Then again, judging by whom he married - when did that ever deter him?]

As a politician, Monsieur - I'm sure you'll agree.

[He steps back just a bit. It's hot enough outside, particularly in the late afternoon, without the heat of a grill toasting his face. Consequences. He takes a moment to answer, not because he doesn't agree - but because his most immediate answer isn't likely to make their conversation last very long at all. Consequences are for those who're too stupid to work their way around them. That's it.]

Ah, I wouldn't know. [This time, he chuckles.] Looking backwards has never been a policy of mine.

[It is no secret, at least to himself, that Claude doesn't particularly like Jean Louis. He doesn't like him as a politician - while Claude isn't as extreme in his political views as he has been, he still votes for parties much more left-wing than the CDP - and getting to know him personally little by little, he doesn't care for him as a person either. However, like this... Sporting a pair of light summer trousers and an Armani Exchange t-shirt with an intricate pattern that somehow manages not to look gay, he is actually somewhat appealing. If only physically.

Claude raises an eyebrow.]

So sounds one of your more consistent claims.

[Says the journalist. Jean Louis has a mutual understanding with mainstream media in Luxembourg after years of paying the right people to shut up when it suits his business. But there's something about the free press that remains very difficult to tame and he has no doubts Claude would be a prime example of that. The type of person with a mindset for activism.]

It's what makes me popular, I assume.

[Spoken with a tinge of humour, the most he can manage on a casual level without resorting to mockery.]

[Was that an attempt at humour? Jean Louis Duroc is not exactly known to be a funny man, so it takes Claude aback a little, suddenly being faced with something that resembles a joke, coming from him. If nothing else, it gives the man a human face, rather than the dictator-like distance that he usually keeps by way of the press, too. Managing a slight laugh, he looks him up and down. He turned forty last year and for a man his age, he's still got his good looks on his side. Very much so.]

Your politics more so than you, I'm sorry to say. The population is greedy. We like not paying taxes much more than we will ever like you.

[He shifts, without much consciousness of the action, mainly because his trousers have begun feeling a bit tight around the crotch...]

[At that, he very nearly laughs. He rarely does, however, and the result is a somewhat strangled sound, caught between a huff and something else.]

Oh, trust me, Monsieur. I'm counting on the human race to give me no surprises.

[It's a bit odd, though, isn't it. The way the other man keeps looking him up and down, like his face doesn't go with the rest of him. Which safe to say, may easily be a matter of taste. In any case, it unnerves him slightly and his smile turns faint. Glancing off to the side. That's a well-kept hedge. If nothing else.]

[His trousers really are getting very tight, what's up with -- Oh. The familiar sensation of arousal, all his nerve-endings extra responsive, his balls tightening and his cock growing hard. To be honest, Claude thought he was done getting boners at unfitting times in very unfitting company. Hell, he thought he was done with that twenty years ago. But apparently his body has decided appreciating Jean Louis Duroc's looks in more senses than just the theoretical. Which is just plain... yes, awkward. Very, very awkward. Shifting again, this time onto the other foot, he tries to discreetly glance down his own front. Even though he's wearing a pair of loose summer pants, the bulge is getting increasingly visible. Sometimes he really wishes he had a smaller dick.]

I'm sure no one is trying to surprise you.

[It's the best response he can come up with right now, thoughts elsewhere like this.]

[It's a standard response, so devoid of anything substantial that it almost negates itself. Considering the fact that Mireille willfully associates with Claude, one would assume that the man has something interesting to say in most contexts. The hedge isn't truly that fascinating at length and surely, the man has stopped looking at him by now --

...

The fact that Claude's looking down his own front doesn't really help, his point of focus very much... contagious. For half a second at most, after which Jean Louis starts finding the hedge very interesting again. Very interesting. For once, he doesn't know what to say to advance the situation; all things considered, he's not sure he really wants to.]

[So he noticed. Great. Just great. Won't this be a tale to tell Vincent when they've gone to bed tonight? And today, honey, I was turned on by your boss and he saw my awkward boner - I had nowhere to hide it. Swallowing a bit thickly, Claude tries to step to the side, behind the grill... only to discover that it cuts off mid-thigh and covers nothing of significance. Looking up at Jean Louis again, finding him studying their hedge with great determination, he decides to just... address the issue. Surely Jean Louis is a man of words as well. Must be.]

Listen. You know how it is, right?

[No. No, he really doesn't know. At least, this kind of thing... in this context... Jean Louis' grown up with Marcel and he's no stranger to perversity of practically any kind. Under most circumstances, sexual implications don't bother him in the slightest but in this particular situation... because Claude is...]

No. [He clears his throat. Awkwardly.] But never mind.

[He looks back at Claude, trying in vain to hide away behind the grill. Keeping his gaze completely and utterly at eyelevel because no one wants to see that. Least of all him.]

Edited 2014-02-10 21:01 (UTC)

[Okay. Time to lie. He can manage that.]

It has nothing to do with you.

[Yes. Yes, it does. It's got everything to do with him. With his torso in that tight-fitting T-shirt. The heat of the afternoon, adding the slightest sheen of sweat to his skin. Claude could easily imagine bending him over the garden table and pulling down his pants... Well, that isn't helping his boner, at all. Actually, it's only making it worse and Claude can feel himself blush a little, heat rising in his cheeks. He's 51, for crying out loud. He's over this.]

[... that was everything but convincing, even if Jean Louis would gladly, gladly accept his words. Take them at face value. Except he can't exactly miss the blatant rush of red, spreading over Claude's face and it's really very unfortunate. Dear Gods. Why would he even...]

In any case. [He makes an attempt at steering the conversation in another direction. Any direction. If talking about the grass would make things less awkward he'd do it. He nods towards the grill, trying in vain not to look down at the same time.] You need to watch the meat.

[It's not a very appropriate sentence, is it. When he thinks about it. He doesn't want to think about it.]

[Talking about something else might be a good idea. As would thinking about something else. Without answering Jean Louis, Claude looks around the garden, mind racing to find something that won't add to his hard-on. Something that doesn't involve arses and chests and male sweat and... Here he goes again. It's the heat. It has to be the heat.]

You should take over my job of flipping meat while I go take a cold shower.

[If it's the heat, that must be the obvious solution.]

[On the surface, that's a decent solution. To the problem. But there are a lot of things Claude hasn't taken into account by his suggestion, mostly because he wouldn't know; that Jean Louis has absolutely no intentions of getting his clothes smoked up by the grill. Or that he probably wouldn't know when to 'flip the meat' until it's all charred and inedible. Swallowing somewhat unnecessarily, he manages a very thin, less than genuine smile.]

No. Don't trouble yourself. [He turns away, watching the house. The door INTO the house, away from this situation. Yes please.] I'll go find Mireille.

[And that's his cue to start walking without looking back because if he does, he's certain he'll lose all appetite before the main course ever gets to the table.]

Edited 2014-02-10 21:42 (UTC)

[And while Jean Louis watches the house, Claude watches him - watches his arse moving and the muscles of his back underneath the fabric of the shirt and if it wasn't so damn awkward, he'd go take a bloody wank in the shower, but he's not sure he could ever face Jean Louis again, if he did.

So instead, he turns back to the grill, flipping over the meat. The smell delicious.]

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the awkward boner meme.

Jean Louis Duroc | Silver Wolf (modern AU)

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