bakerstreet | taken from a prompt on rpanons

taken from a prompt on rpanons

TRAPPED TOGETHER
a fuck or die smut meme

You don't remember falling asleep, but now you're waking up, and it's nowhere familiar. The room is white from top to bottom, clean and sterile. There is no visible door or other means of escape. Fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling provide the only light.

The room is mostly empty, but not entirely. A large monitor sits recessed into the wall opposite you. A chest of drawers sits on the wall to your left, and a closet in the wall to your right. You are sitting on a large, white bed, and you are not alone. Do you know this person? Are they a friend, an enemy, a lover? Or are they a complete stranger, someone you've never met before in your life. There is a strange collar around their neck, and with a start, you realize you have one on around your throat as well. Try as you might, you cannot remove it.

Whatever the case, the person you are stuck with is awakening as well, but before you two have time to so much as introduce yourselves, the monitor comes to life, and text appears on the screen.

YOU'RE FINALLY AWAKE.
THE GAMES WILL NOW BEGIN.
DO AS YOU ARE TOLD AND YOU WILL LEAVE ALIVE.
ONCE WE'RE DONE WITH YOU, THAT IS.
IGNORE YOUR ORDERS AND DIE.
DO NOT ATTEMPT TO CHEAT. WE WILL KNOW.
AND PLEASE, TRY TO HAVE FUN.

The message remains for a minute, just to make sure you both have time to read it, before fading away. Moments later, your first orders appear. Ignore them, and your collars will begin to constrict until you comply. Finish, and new orders will eventually appear. Between the chest of drawers and the closet beside the bed, everything you need is provided to you to perform, including toys, tools, special medications of various effects, and even food and drink.

Is your collar getting tighter? Better get busy. Remember, they're watching.

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character information and preferences in the subject, as usual.
OOC communication is extremely important in this meme, the orders your characters are given are determined between the two of you. They can be tame, or they can be extreme. Plan out what you want to play ahead of time, or surprise each other, just get a feel for what each of you want! Leaving a kinks list and/or an example of what kind of orders you like in your comment is a terrific idea.
Keep on going as long as you please! If you really want, your characters can escape after a single smooch, or they can be going at it all day long.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

I see a few I like, [he concedes to the suit he took great care in picking out for Miyuki, more than to Miyuki himself. He does mean possible stocking choices, but it's the suit who gets to hear about it, because Miyuki didn't help choose his own outfit at all. And while this may be fun to some degree, there's an under current of dread sticking like barnacles to his stomach, and the truth is that he just wants to get this over with. The finishing touches aren't as important to him as they would be back home, but that stupid thing isn't content with what they've put on so far.

Air expels from his nose, and his gaze slips back to the array of stockings and the like, and he runs his fingers for something to do along the brim of the container. As he elaborates, his anxious hands end up undoing the thread bit by bit of some peach colored pantyhose.]

But I'm already in a dress, and I don't need to give you anymore reason to laugh at me. The size and style can say a lot, and what it makes the outfit say depends on who's looking at it. So, I could choose one, and you'll think, 'That's a nice outfit. It suits him.' Or, another, and think, instead: 'He looks ridiculous.'

[Hello, again, Suit. (This is an unintended passive-aggression. His feelings are simply bruised easily.)] It comes down to what you fancy. I've already suggested color. And, [staring at socks and all again,] you barely think the word no, and whoever it is keeping us here, has no trouble making sure you're choked. Who's to say how it'll respond if I'm picking out every last thing.

But, just... pick whatever you want, because I don't want to be here anymore.

...

[ Miyuki steps closer to him, ] Hey. [ bringing a hand up to grab the younger boy's chin between thumb and fingers, tipping his face up past the suit to meet Miyuki's stare.

He doesn't want to be here either, but the boy should know that. There's nothing more he thinks to say about their situation and he's made it clear what his intentions regarding it are. He addresses something else instead — implications that irk him because not only is the boy wrong, Miyuki wishes he was right.

Without trace of a grin, just a bit of an edge, ] If I was laughing at you? You'd know.

[ Not like he hides it. Not like he's in the habit of taking care not to bruise others' feeling at all, really. But Miyuki hasn't been laughing since he'd put on the dress, because there isn't something to laugh at.

He releases him, pausing. Before his hand goes to the top of Alois' head instead. His fingertips run gently through some strands, before his palm rests atop hair. And then ruffles it, Miyuki turning already before lifting it and his attention away from the boy.

His discomfort is set aside for the moment as he looks over the choices and comes to a decision blended from what would, aesthetically, look right (as far as he can tell) and what he himself would prefer if it were him. The boy has given up in a huff, apparently, but Miyuki still talks out his reasoning aloud as he's shifting and picking through them. ]

Translucent'd probably make sense, right? If it's solid, that's a lot of white, with the shoes... Shorter socks would look weird with a dress like that...

[ It'd be best if the top of them didn't show, but it seems to the older boy like full-length stockings are awkward things. Thigh-highs, then, would accomplish the same outward appearance but be that more familiar two-separate-sock system.

Then for pattern... he takes up a pair with a band of opaque lace at the very tops, a translucence down the rest of the length, and a subtle pattern therein of, simply, vertical white lines. Miyuki goes to the other boy and offers them. ]

Let's go with these.

[Upon the first word of his reply, Alois' eyes are slower than Miyuki's fingers, which have taken his gaze by the hand and firmly lead it to the older boy's visage proper. Initially, the younger of the pair is, even privately, uncertain—instinct, aside—as to why his own shoulders lock up, and his lashes go further apart, anxiety intensifying fleetingly. And as Miyuki takes to caressing his hair, then tousling it, that disquietude morphs into a strange creature of itself and something soothed, neither allowing the other sensation full-fledged room. A puppy, accustomed to being struck or starved or both, thankful to its new owner, who must still discipline but is worlds kinder, wiggling on its belly and thumping its tail after being scolded.

Miyuki's reasoning doesn't quite reach him, while youth stares at him and tries to parse out this murmur of familiarity. It doesn't come to him in a rush, since in more regards than not, they're nothing alike. But a mirage of Claude stands over Miyuki—taller, broader, golden-eyed, hair combed back, and all at once Alois understands that the previous assertive gesture, disguising itself as a trivial thing, was redolent of the same manner in which Claude, authoritative and guiding, hushes his uninhibited and soft little master.

Smoothing hand over his hair, or tipping his chin just the same, holding his cheeks and making certain Alois can see the bearing of his eyes; and Alois, oblivious, thrumming, nudging him away at the wrists, shying, shying, shying, not spurred on to try to fool Claude, but curling away from a deluge of Claude.

In short, simple, seemingly innocuous gesticulation that can make him grow fonder of someone, but it isn't his fault, he's deliberately been pruned this way. Not to say that this happens now, only the sinking realization that love is formed of a collection of moments like these.

The older boy is holding what he's chosen out to Alois, who's still staring at Miyuki himself, and his eyes are slow to descend, latching dumbfounded to the thigh-highs. His cognizance trudges out of recent past to catch up with both boys and their current goal. They will do nicely with the dress. A moth of a thing, his tiny smile appears, and he turns to reach out for them.]

All right. I'll put these and the shoes on, then. [And stooping only to pluck the heels up again, he shuffles back into the main room and drops on the bed to begin setting to the task of pulling thigh-highs on and up.]

[ He watches him leave, not following after. And Miyuki's hand goes to his own hair then, brushing it back as he shuts his eyes for a moment. Jeez, if that's what shopping with a girlfriend is like, he understands his fellow teammates' grousing about not having time for one even less than before.

But more seriously, he's content with knocking off the malaise that had grown on the boy's mind under his radar. Being a little harsh to those in his charge is quite familiar, sometimes even more than a little. It can be necessary at times to bring them out of whatever mental hole they've dug themselves into. He'd thought he'd scared the younger boy before, but perhaps a bit of firmness is safe. Effective, even.

He goes to exit the closet as Alois is pulling on the second sock, and Miyuki's eyes divert themselves off to the wall as though he'd intended to look there in the first place, continuing to walk as he was. It occurs to him then, and he wishes it didn't, that the boy was not wearing underwear in his regular clothing for some reason. So then...

Miyuki plops down on the end of the bed, facing the monitor wall, as he waffles between asking or not or whether it matters. Because it shouldn't — in both the sense that the outfit looks plenty complete to him! And also, there shouldn't be any weirdness to it.

He leans his hands back on the bed, casually: ]

Are you wearing your shorts under there?

[The younger boy catches a glimpse of him as he enters the room, before eyes return to stocking, tugging and smoothing until it's on his leg appropriately. Presently, both limbs now covered, he drops it off the right side of the bed with the other, leaning over his lap to reach for the shoes. He's slipping one on after the other, pulling the backs up his heels, resting against his knees to buckle them when he hears Miyuki's question.

He glances over, takes a second to make sure he has the hole he needs in the last latch, and then looks back.]

Yes. [Finished, he sits up, running his palms over skirt and knees, and then standing. For his own benefit and amusement, he does a juvenile little jig of gently bouncing from one set of toes to the other, partial pirouette, helplessly beaming at these stupid, but pretty shoes.]

I didn't see any drawers, [without lifting gaze, tilting white heels onto their sides, and popping up in place, again and again.]

[ He turns his head at the movement out the side of his vision. Brows lift slightly, impressed by the show of mobility in such things, before furrowing a little. Partly at what the boy is doing with his ankles, and partly because there's a set of drawers right over...

Ah. Drawers — he translates a second later, and continues to put back the question of why he has to in light of noting that Alois is now fully dressed and the monitor, apparently disagreeing with this assessment of Miyuki's, has not changed. ]

Tch... Me neither, but I guess they must be in there somewhere.

[ He lifts himself with a sigh, heading back into the closet and calling over as he does. This one, he can do. He's already got his choice in mind — ]

Are briefs alright?

[ Just plain white briefs, if he sees them. Or whatever color, really. They're going to be under the dress so it doesn't matter. ]

[He bounces idly, distractedly, in place: from heels, to ankles, to toes, and repeating the cycle. Only going still once Miyuki's on his feet again and moving to the closet, his eyes rising to follow with a blink. Perplexed, his brows come to meet each other, and he tags after a bit belatedly.]

Are what all right? [Sticking his head in through the closet door part way.]

[ Miyuki doesn't look back as he starts to search for potential places to hold the underwear stash. ]

Briefs. [ Though he does pause, ] Men's underwear?

[ How else does he explain it?? He's never had to and never thought he would have to either. ]

What do you usually wear... ? [ An exasperated, rhetorical question. If he really doesn't get it, he'll just have to show him, then. Luckily, Miyuki soon finds a squat, wide set of drawers shorter than his knee underneath some hanging clothes. He crouches down and pulls the top drawer of two open, before pulling out and lifting a pair with both hands for Alois to see it. ]

These are briefs.

[At their reveal, Alois' visage remains neutral, before splintering into a sputtering smile. Bubbled giggles immediately follow, light, young, and musical laughter, though wholly genuine—littered with the occasional gasp, even.]

Th- those, those— [He's consumed by his amusement, eyes smiling as much as his own mouth at Miyuki's, as if this whole thing is so plainly funny he ought to just understand.] Those aren't, [squeaking with giggles, badly impersonating Miyuki's voice:] men's underwear.

Those are— [Finally, he mostly contains himself, but a breathy, little hiccup of amusement still slips free.] Well, I don't know. It's a loincloth, possibly. It's my best guess. I mean, look. It's so little.

[Resurfacing of what's tickled him:] Men's underwear.

[ He doesn't understand at all and it's plain in his face. But at least the fix seems easy enough. ]

If that's the problem, then... [ There's a brief (hah) bit of rooting around before he's then holding up a plain pair of boxers, first by one hand, then by both to show them fully. ]

Boxers. Also men's underwear. [ — in case he doesn't know what they are either. ] Any better?

[The bout is over, nothing left of it hanging in the atmosphere. He looks momentarily troubled, and then, a little embarrassed—has Claude only been giving him old catalogs? But the year is current, as far as he remembers. Are these really men's underclothes?]

Either's fine, [he states haughtily, overcompensating for his embarrassment. But in spite of what he says, he still slits his eyes suspiciously at the boxers, glares at Miyuki, boxers again, and finally, slowly, lowers to the drawers to double check. Not seeing the standard, white, and much longer undergarments, he stands abruptly and snatches the boxers away.] Give them to me.

[ There are not enough question marks in the world for him. ]

If you say so... [ There are a few... other styles in there but Miyuki ignored them. He lets him take the thing without fuss, as he's trying to parse this underwear mystery anyway. So Alois is used to underwear having more to it — ah, is that why he wasn't wearing any? The boxers he has in hand now practically amount to the boy's shorts! But besides that, is there really a place that exists where men only wear underwear like that, where Alois has never heard of conventional styles that Miyuki takes for granted?

And does it matter. Well, at least it might clear up his other eccentricities...

Miyuki hasn't turned or left this time, his question easing out from being rhetorical: ]

Where are you from that they only wear long underwear?

[Alois goes around him to lift skirt, undo shorts to drop around his ankles, step free, and then get into boxers. Answering while he puts on the underwear.]

England. Where are you, that they wear things like this? [China or something, right? Maybe that's the difference.]

[ When he sees him move, Miyuki's a little surprised he didn't get an order to turn around instead. He stays where he is, shifting his weight a bit as he mulls it over... ]

Japan. I always thought they wore the same stuff as us over there.

[ And still thinks that. The other boy may live in England, but maybe it's some out-of-the-way, isolated place therein? Well, that's enough pondering over it for now — they're almost finished. He tips his head slightly back and to the side, without turning it. ]

You decent?

Yes. [Bending at knees to collect his shorts in order to set aside with his clothes from home. When he straightens, he blinks at him.]

Come to think of it, you're still in the drawers you came here in, too, aren't you? [He doesn't wait for an answer, since it's something Miyuki can decide for himself about changing, but he figures someone ought to mention it if the monitor not moving onto next instructions or releasing them has to do with underwear. He moves on ahead and out of the closet to give him privacy, and put his clothes in a corner or something, somewhere where they won't get lost with the mess of rejects.]

At least I'm wearing underwear. [ He huffs, sinking hands into his pockets as he follows after the other boy back into the room, thinking that he would just choose the same sort and color of underwear anyway. ]

Hopefully it's not picky enough to make me take the pants off and do everything back up again, just for that.

[ He'd like to move on, maybe get closer to their release if that is what awaits them. And once the two of them are fully in the room the screen indeed starts to change. See? It's fine —

DO NOT IGNORE YOUR ORDERS.
ASSIST THE OFFENDER BY TAKING OFF THE LAST ARTICLE OF HIS CLOTHING.
HE CANNOT HELP.
THEN CHOOSE SOMETHING NEW FROM WHAT IS PROVIDED.

... You've got to be kidding him — a thought that is barely formed before he's making a surprised noise. Not from being choked this time, however, but from something that feels and looks extremely odd. There is suddenly a strong, invisible pulling force working on the hands currently stuck in his pants. ] What— [ They seem to be drawn inward, Miyuki awkwardly wrestling them out of pockets before his wrists suddenly spring together, connecting right where those shackles are under his shirt cuffs.

Miyuki immediately starts struggling to pull them apart, to no avail, the abrupt lack of control over his own limbs bringing a minor rush of panic through his veins. He catches himself, though, and quiets his movements a bit as he consciously tries to calm down. ]

I can't— get them apart.

[ Magnets? — He mutters to himself. They had looked so similar to the collar it seemed like they were just part of a set. He didn't imagine they had a function like this. ]

[The brief dimming, then new glow of monitor light draws his eyes up, and of course, he frowns. But it's Miyuki's surprise that makes him start with his own looking over, taking a step or two toward him, but stopping in place, not knowing what to do, when he notices his personal struggle with his own wrists. Miyuki's panic, fleeting as it is, is his own, but observing alone is still frightening, and Alois' eyes sting a little, glued on the shackles now stuck together.

His worried expression doesn't lift until Miyuki says he's unable to get them apart. A last look up at the screen, before committing to the specified task.]

Miyuki, [all guilt, like he's done this somehow.] I'm sorry, I— I have to, or you might be stuck like that. [Or worse. History makes him want to ask Miyuki permission first, but they've already been ordered. Still he hesitates, trying to smother out the need to refuse before it's caught onto, and this time he's successful. It can be heard in the breath he lets before he slowly approaches.

His eyes, doubtful, flit to Miyuki's face in his unease one more time, and then he starts to undo his belt, trying to be deft as he works it out of the buckle enough to loosen it—slipping it totally out of loops would just hold them up, but he might be shivering a little. Whenever his gaze starts to climb, he forces it back to what he's doing, not daring enough to look the older boy in the eye again while he unfastens his pants, then eases zipper down.]

I'm... going to pull the trousers down, now, [he informs with quiet voice, an attempt to buffer any possible alarm at having them tugged down at all.]

[ He looks to the younger boy and though he sees and hears him, it's hard to pay attention above the distaste his body has of its new confines. He stands still watching Alois approach, but Miyuki's muscles are tense, wrists still subtly trying to pull free of each other. Even his legs are tense with the want to move away and gain distance for himself and this new sense of vulnerability he's saddled with, but they remain rooted to the spot.

Alois is right, and he knows he has to let him do this. He manages to school his expression and be able to look the boy in the face at first. ]

I know.

[ But it feels as though the short hair at the nape of his neck is on end, his heart set at a faster pace now. Miyuki bends his joined arms up to hold them against his chest, hands partly in front of his face as he turns it aside. Quieter, ]

It's my fault for not being careful.

[ Every movement of the boy's hands are felt, and Miyuki tells himself that this is nothing. That it could be worse. But the awkward way he has to hold himself stays as a constant reminder of his loss of movement. He tries to focus on getting the order complete, then, and falls into grasping for some sense of control back, ]

It'll be easier to take my shoes off first. Just let me lean on you and I can—

[ His offer to toe them off himself dies as he remembers the order, eyes flitting to the screen to confirm it — he can't help. What counts? Something so blatant, at least, is too dangerous to try; not being careful is what got him here. His mouth shuts in a frown, eyes narrowed. ]

... My balance is off like this and you might make me fall over trying to get them past my shoes.

[His fingers, prepared to work pants down, pull away before this happens, and Alois manages to look up at Miyuki himself after what he says.]

R- right. [It was nothing to swap shorts with boxers, even with heels, but he forgot to account for the shoes Miyuki is wearing now.] Um. Here, let me guide you to the bed so you can sit and I'll get your shoes off. [Leaning would be fine, but still may make him unsteady.]

Will that work?

Yeah, it's fine.

[ It's all just fine. Miyuki lets him lead, ignoring how incredibly awkward it is, before sitting back on the bed. He thinks to elevate his feet for him, so Alois doesn't have to bend or kneel on the floor. But the first thing he does is start scooting backward, unintentionally beginning to ruck his pants down with the friction, and stops.

Instead, he raises one leg to rest the side of an ankle on the opposite knee. ]

Here. [ Finally, his eyes look to Alois. ] This okay? I'll switch for you when this one's off.

[It's all right, of course, but he doesn't say anything else for now, not even a hum of confirmation. He clasps top and heel of shoe, and slips it free, letting it drop to the floor. He waits for Miyuki to switch to other knee, then does the same with the second shoe.]

Could you stand again so I can get them down?

Sure. [ He stands now and faces toward him, raising his hands similarly as before. The top of his pants already hangs unevenly off his hips, the black of his boxer-briefs peeking through.

It's all so... unfamiliar; having someone else undress him. This is what parents do for their children, probably, though he can't really remember his dad doing so. ]

[Undressing someone is, for the most part, something he's unused to himself. At seven, he had to learn to clothe a five-year-old, but he was seven and dressing his little brother and himself was an untidy, and often not completely correct endeavor. He's unbuckled trousers or nice shirts and jackets, in other, darker circumstances, but was rarely ever able to get far enough to pull the article off. For two years after he was eight, someone (or some someones) were forcing him into clothes, much like they forced him to eat, and only to keep the cold off him. He can't recall faces, everything is fuzzy from that time.

Claude's been dressing and undressing him since he was eleven, and even at eleven-year-old Alois' prickling that he can do it himself, insisted because that's how is for nobility. All of this, obviously, isn't worth explaining in the light of their situation now. If he had refused, saying he's not meant to undress someone like a common servant, he'd be strangled, or Miyuki.

He easily works the pants down to ankles, descending himself into a very quick, prim squat so as not to have to bend to get them there.]

Sit? [A gentle request.] I'll be able to get them all the way off then. I'll get new underwear, after.

[ His breath is caught and held in his throat a moment at the sudden amount of exposure. He'd just done the same thing pulling off his own pants earlier and thought nothing of it, but it's completely different when someone else is doing it for him. When he's been forced helpless.

Miyuki's looking off to some spot to the side, but Alois' downward movement yanks his gaze in. ]

Mm, good idea.

[ Getting the new underwear before taking his own off, that is. Thinking about it, he's grateful for the consideration. It makes him look at the other boy more soberly for a second...

Still, he's eager to take the opportunity to move away from him if only the smallest distance and if only for a moment. Sitting is a more awkward endeavor now, though it might not look too different from how one can carelessly plop onto a seat. He's not trying to do that, and there is that brief feeling of falling, connected arms twitching for the urge to separate and brace on something as he sits.

He squirms to situate himself, pausing before continuing as he bends his legs up onto the bed and tries not to show how much he hates it, tries not to think about how he looks, eyes avoiding Alois. ]

... Sorry you have to do this.

[ It shouldn't be like this. The younger boy... he shouldn't have to take care of him. All the suppressed irritation vibrates in the core of Miyuki's bones, even worse because he knows it's his own fault. ]

[The moment Alois realizes he's practically falling, his eyes drop to white shoes. An attempt to spare Miyuki from feeling anymore on display than he already must. He doesn't look up until the older boy speaks again, and he carefully lowers to knees (in a peculiar sense of habitual, but without thinking), tucking skirt in a smoothing motion over the tops of them, and behind his legs, since he'll be kneeling upon it and so as it keep it from bunching up. It's subconsciously ritualistic.

Less ritualistic, and as quick as he can make it, he tugs trousers free.]

It's particular, [he answers.] We became careless... [That's to say, he feels it's as much his fault, if not completely. As if he should have piped up, hey, what about our underpants? Pants set aside on the bed, just as neatly and dainty as he had descended, he rises again, taking as brief a note as he possibly can of Miyuki's current underwear with the intention of finding something similar. And then into the closet he goes to rummage in the drawers on Miyuki's side. He does actually manage to find a new pair of black boxer-briefs, and a moment later he returns, frowning, still looking guilty.]

How do you want to do this?

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