[Closed; Mushverse Past] Basco/Marvelous voice testing/history sharing.

[captainmarvelous]

It still feels like I'm inside a dream as the startlingly red captain takes me onto his ship. I have the image of it first coming into view still burned to my eyelids; when I blink I still see it as it rose in the sky behind him, as red and bold as its captain. I haven't felt so drawn to something in my life, its call as strong to me as the song of the stars. It's as if even the blood in my veins longs for it; I don't think I could have refused the captain's offer to join his crew, even with how strong my pride can be.

He shows me the engine room, the impressive inner mechanisms that keep the ship airborne, keep it humming with life. And it does have life, more than any ship I've been on before. I can feel it humming under my touch as I grip a railing. This ship has a voice, has a story to tell me, or maybe one to make with me.

The brief yet concise tour eventually comes to the main living room, what I can feel just with my first steps is the heart of the ship. It's sparsely furnished, a small table with a pair of chairs, a tiny couch with coffee table, the main controls for the computer screen on the far wall. And of course the captain's chair.

I hover at AkaRed's elbow for a moment, drinking in my surroundings as he points out the stairs that lead down toward the crew quarters, the doorway that leads to the galley, and the other stairs that lead up to the crow's nest.

It already feels like home. Like I've lived here all my life.

AkaRed moves to sit in his chair, tells me to make myself at home, pick out a room for myself. I shoulder the small pack I brought with me, all I usually travel with, and spin around, drinking the room in all over again.

Comments

[curryjolokia]

Obviously I've fucked some sort of compliance chemical into him. I suppose I'm not too upset about this at all, really. From my perspective, he's hot, I would love for this to be a regular thing between us, and I gave him just what he wanted, fast and hard and no fluffy preambles. Whatever effect I've had on him means he's okay with remaining tied like this for a while, or at least he thinks he is.

I'll just try not to be annoying pillow conversation. Huh. And on the topic of pillows.

I shift with him, trying to maintain a regular angle as he adjusts the brace of his arms. "We can sit," I offer, shrugging diffidently. "If you're getting tired~"

[captainmarvelous]

I shake my head, laughing weakly, still feeling all light and floaty from my climax. The fact that he's still inside me isn't helping the high fade any faster, not that I'm complaining. Who would complain about riding an afterglow for longer than normal?

"This is fine," I really don't think sitting would make the situation any better. "Just needed to shift a bit."

I'm still hungry, actually even more so now, but I'm not about to say anything about it. I don't even want to think of the logistics that would be involved in me getting some food with the state we're in. We'll have to plan ahead if we're going to make this is a regular occurrence between us. Sex always works up my appetite.

[curryjolokia]

If he's comfortable staying put, I'm okay with that as well; the only trouble is, I don't have anything to say, and am starting to feel awkward. Just a bit. I usually don't tie with anyone precisely because of this - because I usually only fuck for sex's sake, and purely physical trysts are best ended as abruptly as they tend to begin.

I'm not sure where the compulsion to knot him came from, but it's probably just a product of how ridiculously oblivious he is to what he looks like. I can't help but want to get my scent all over little scraps of naive innocence like him. But that deed's already done, and now I'm curious about him as a person, but certainly not enough to start a conversation about it right now, when we're trapped together like this.

A pirate, he said, as though that's all the more self-definition one might ever need. He's a creative thinker, at least.

I'm wondering what else he could be, when a rumble from beneath both of us startles me. I figure it has to just be his stomach, but I've never heard hunger sound like THAT before. I remember the way he peered into my skillet, as if even a few minutes' wait was unbearable, and te memory brings another.

I'm already folded over him, but I'd double over if I wasn't, laughing gleefully. "The food!" I remember, burying my chuckles in his shoulder. "I never finished it."