itinere | open | so I keep doin' my own thing; walkin' tall against the rain

Entry tags:

{criminal minds: derek morgan

open | so I keep doin' my own thing; walkin' tall against the rain

Derek had somehow gotten away with not getting sick more than a headache that was just getting worse and worse as time moves on. It was never so bad that he couldn't work though it though, not as bad as so many others in the city (knock on wood). So every morning he went into the rec center to put in a full day's work. Every evening he went to check on those people he knew here in Itinere who were sick. He took them food and medicine and whatever else they might need. And he tried not to get sicker himself.

At the rec center, throughout each day, Derek stayed busy. Some days he worked with the treadmills, weights and parallel bars. Some days he worked with the punching bag and settled in a training room to go through his judo moves. Some days he did laps in the pool. Some days he was out on the basketball courts shooting some hoops.

Every day, he helped out whoever came into the place. While people are sick, after people are feeling better. Derek is there.

When Derek isn't at the rec center he can be found around the City in various places. Sometimes he's at the market picking up odds and ends. Sometimes he's at the park walking or jogging on the trails with earbuds in his ears, music from his iPod blaring loudly in his ears. Sometimes he's driving down the streets and up into the twists and turns of the roads in the mountains on his bike from home, which had magically appeared recently. Sometimes he's stopping at the burger joint, because Derek has a hard time resisting a good burger now and then. But really, who doesn't?

ooc: Open catch all for Derek all the way into June. So even if you're sick, you can chat with him when you aren't sick anymore too.

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God, he is a handsome man. And she would be lying if she said that seeing him like this didn't do something for her.

Holding his face in her hands, she arches a brow right back. If they are going to play, there are rules.

"Talk to me first, lover," she tells him, her voice a little lower, a little more velvet over steel. "Do you know what a safe word is? Do you have one?"

Her hands hold his face and he playfully turns his head to snap his teeth at her thumb, not catching it really, missing it just barely. Just enough to tease. His hand grips one of her wrists, his own thumb gliding lightly along the inside of her wrist along the vein.

He smirks and shakes his head, his lips curling into another grin. "What? No. I've never... I mean, yeah I know what it is, but... no." He's worked enough cases of BDSM gone wrong to have researched it. To know what a safe word is. Has he ever used one? Does he have one? No and no.

"Alright, alright..." He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth, thinking. "Wildcat." He finally says, naming the mascot of his alma mater. And how appropriate that is. It's exactly what Derek is. A lion. A wildcat. Untamed. "How's that?"

"Wildcat." That will do; it won't likely come up in play anyway. Venus nods. "I'm just a 'red' girl myself. Red means stop and green means go. Yellow, just like the stoplights, all right?"

He's so cute that she can't help but kiss that grin. "And what about things you don't wanna do, mmm? Got anything that's just plain off-limits? Nothing to be ashamed of; we just need to know, lover."

Oh. Shows how little Derek knows if it should have been as simple as red, green and yellow. He knows very little. He's thankful for his dark skin because he can feel a slight flush of heat in it. However, since his mom is white, his skin isn't as dark as it could be. If Venus is perceptive, she might notice that blush.

The kiss is welcome and he takes it with a slight tilt of his head to jut his lips forward.

"Things I don't wanna do. Like uhm..." He tries to come up with something, shakes his head because he has no idea where to even start. He tries to mentally file through different case files from his past or some he's studied. "Uhh...." Nope. Drawing a blank. But it's obvious that he's trying not to draw a blank, if that helps. "Cutting? Is that a thing? I don't want it to be bloody."

"Cutting is a thing," Venus says, smiling, taking one of Derek's hands and rubbing it gently between hers. There is no reason to be embarrassed; the only way to learn things is to learn them, right?

"I'm very glad you aren't one for that; that is on my no list too," she tells him, her eyes and smile warm. She'll say more and perhaps that might help, too. "I am not for bodily functions, either," she notes, adding, "not a fan of being shit and peed on." She smiles with that. "And I am not going to be comfortable doing something with enough force that either one of us is bruised or sore. I suppose I am ultimately one for pleasure, rather than pain. Is that all right?"

Now that he thinks of it, he thinks that's called blood play. Cutting works though. He feels out of his depth, like he's fumbling through things and waiting for Venus to give him a direction to go in.

"Bodily functions." He can't help the way his nose wrinkles a bit as he shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to say no on that too." He can't imagine being pissed on, or anything that comes out of the body. He's been spat upon before. He wasn't good with that either.

He sits back on his heels, regarding her as his lips pull into another grin. "That's alright with me, pretty girl." He liked things that provoked his mind, and Venus is definitely that. No bruising or soreness involved in that.

"And, as we play, if something comes up that you like or don't like, you tell me, you hear?" she says, reaching to touch his chin. "No shame and no embarrassment. For this to work there has to be complete honesty."

His smile is enough to make her stomach just flip right over under her ribs. "How's that sound?"

"I can be honest." Derek is honest, generally speaking. But he knows that's not what she means. And he has to quietly consider that. He is a control freak. He is a man's man, the very definition. This is something entirely out of his comfort zone. But if he doesn't want something, he has to say so, not push through it like he would with anything else just to prove something to himself.

He nods again, tilting his head just enough so that it presses into that touch. "I can do it. Whatever you throw at me... and I can put a stop to it if I can't handle it..." That still sounds so very macho. So he adds. "If I don't like it, I'll let you know."

"That's exactly right." With her fingers still cupping his cheek, Venus leans in for a kiss.

So.

"If you want me to show you, lover, I need you to do something for me." She stands when she says this. "Take off your clothes and fold them all nice for me, please. And I'll be right back, all right?"

She takes time to reach into the trunk for her vinyl catsuit and leaves for the bathroom, hips swaying.

"Clothes off, folded and be sitting all pretty for me on the edge of the bed, lover. Don't touch yourself, you hear?"

Derek kisses her in return and watches her stand, getting to his own feet too just as she does. He doesn't miss that she grabbed the suit out of it. This is real. This is really happening. As cool as a cucumber as he had been seconds before, he now feels that anxiousness rise inside of him again.

What's going to happen? What's she going to do? What's he going to do? All things he knows he should be letting go of.

"Got it, pretty girl." He offers, watching her hips sway as she exits the room. Derek turns and pulls his shirt off, setting it on the chair he had been sitting in. Shorts and briefs next. She said to fold them though, so he did that, somewhat haphazardly, but done anyway. He places his flipflops on top to try to make the folding look neater.

You wouldn't think just sitting would be so difficult. 'Sit all pretty for me' she had said. How does someone do that? He shifts to a few different positions, and then just settles for leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. However, right when he hears noise that indicates she might be coming out, he shifts again, trying to portray confidence. He leans back with his palms in the mattress.

He's adorable, really. And Venus loves that he's nervous. That means that this means something. Not that it needs to be heavy, but she's baring herself too, so there's that.

It's never easy, really, getting the latex on, but she does, and she puts her hair up, too, a touch of red lipstick to her mouth and she's got boots on too, also patent black. When she comes out, she stands, hip canted to the side, hands on her hips and she makes sure to look everything over. "From here on out, lover, if you need to stop, you use your safeword, no shame, no embarrassment, all right? And remember: complete honesty." She puts a finger under his chin tipping it up.

"How do I look?"

At first sight, Derek just stares, his lips parted just enough to show he's seeing something new, something he's never seen before. That latex hugs her like a second skin. And wow does it accentuate her breasts, pushing them up so that the mounds push over the low neckline. Sometimes Derek can't decide if he's a breast or an ass man. Right now he's both.

She nears him and he nods slightly, still having trouble looking up and into her eyes. Yes, use his safe word. Honesty. He hears her. But damn... look at her. He can just make out the bulge of her cock too and that sends something spiraling right down to his own exposed length, making it twitch to life. Is that normal? Yes. Maybe.

He sits up, leaning forward once she reaches him from the bathroom. That finger at his chin finally gets his gaze to raise from the rest of her to her eyes. It still takes him a beat to find his voice. "You look..." His hands reach out to grab each side of her hips, feeling the latex beneath his palms. "So damn hot."

"Good," she says in a near-purr. "Now, lover. Come with me," she tells him, taking his hand and urging him to his feet. "You get to pick one thing from the trunk. One thing you'd like me to use on you." She stands back, not pressuring him and letting him make the choice. "Then bring it back to me."

She'll overtly objectify him in this moment. The curve of his body, his muscles, his beautiful cock. It all makes her hard too, though it is never about her in these moments. It's all about him.

With his hand in hers, he stands up and is just a little bit struck by the fact that he is naked and she is not. It feels strange but he pushes that aside to move with her closer to the trunk. So she's leaving the decision up to him. For some reason, he hadn't expected that. But he revels in the control of his own destiny as he stares down into the trunk.

It's difficult to concentrate then, when she lets go of his hand and steps back to overtly look him over. His gaze follows her instead of looking into the trunk of its own accord. He has no idea why he needs to see her reaction, see what she's thinking, what she's doing, but he does.

"Like what you see, pretty girl?" He asks, confronting the fact that he has nothing on without shying away from it, as he tries to do with everything else.

"You bet I do," she tells him, smiling. But she nods back toward the trunk. "Go on now. Pick." It's often misconstrued about BDSM that it's all about control. That the domme utterly controls the sub. But what's missed in that is that it's the domme's responsibility to care for the sub and that means, really, that the sub has the control. Anyone who doesn't get that is doing it wrong (and plenty of people do it wrong, Venus knows this).

But she sits on the edge of the bed and crosses one long leg over the other. "Choose, lover."

Satisfied for the moment, Derek looks back into the trunk. He skips over the rope. Because that implies being restrained in some way that he isn't sure he's prepared for yet. It isn't that he's completely against it, he just has to fully trust for that and a part of him is still holding back from that kind of trust. He needs to be able to break free if he needs to. The scarves, he can't tell if they're about restraint or not. So he leaves them be, the cuffs as well.

He thinks about the dildo, the one Venus had said was her favorite. But he has one of those, not one that lights up like that, but he has one, nonetheless. He's determined to jump into the deep end with this. Something new then. Maybe one of the paddles or floggers or those feather things.

Finally, before he can put too much thought into it that would talk him into going with the familiarity of the dildo, Derek grabs one of the padded paddles and brings it over to her. "How's that?"

Even while he's clearly aroused, his insides are a mess of nerves. What's gonna happen? What will happen? What's gonna happen? He has to repeat 'let go' in his mind, over and over and over to maintain a calm on the outside. Letting go is hard, but she's already given him a preview that says if he does, it will be a wonderful thing.

"If this is the one you want, it's perfect, of course, lover," Venus tells him, taking the paddle from him and running the padded leather over her hand. She stands then, gesturing with her free hand to the bed. "On your hands and knees. We'll start easy, yes? How many do you think you can take, mmm?" she asks, not that she's going to hurt him, of course; she's already said that. But this is about Derek learning what works for him and what doesn't. Will he over-estimate? Under estimate? Will he come? Inquiring minds want to know.

Derek glances to the bed and back to Venus. How many can he take? He leans in and brushes his lips to hers as he tries to come up with a number. Derek is always overly confident, even when he knows he probably shouldn't be. Part of that can sometimes be an act. But that saying fake it until you make it definitely applies to him. A lot of his confidence is very real.

A kiss then, before he turns to the bed and starts to crawl on. He stays there on his hands and knees, feeling a low vibration in his belly. Because he's on his hands and knees.

"Fifty." He says finally, glancing back to her with an arched brow. Too much? Too little? Just right? Fifty seems like a lot when it comes to getting hit with something. And Derek has no idea what to expect really.

Truthfully, she was thinking ten. But this might be a very interesting test. Communication and consent.

First, she just runs her hand over that sweet ass. So pretty. She gives it a pinch, arching a brow. "This is mine, isn't it, lover? All mine? Are you ready, then?" She is. She feels good. She feels alive. She feels cared for. Quite remarkable, really.

The question, of course, is somewhat rhetorical and she pulls the paddle back. "I need you to count for me, lover." And she brings the paddle down against Derek's ass.

He likes that touch, her palm gliding over his skin. The pinch is unexpected and makes him flinch in surprise. But nothing gets to him so much as those words. The silky smooth way she says them, the words themselves, it's like they're tethered to his cock, stroking over him and making him hard, surprisingly so. She's asking if his ass is hers.

It takes him a moment to respond, as surprised as he is by his own body's reaction to what she's just said. "It's yours, pretty girl." His tone is deep and husky, more so than usual.

Just as he's about to answer her to tell her that he's ready, the paddle hits his backside. Hard. His entire body jerks with it and he barely thinks about counting except as an after thought. Hot damn, he's letting someone spank him... with a paddle. He's letting Venus spank him. It's crazy. It's thrilling. It's erotic in a way Derek hadn't fully grasped that it would be.

"One." He finally says once he's breathing easier again.

Damn, he's pretty like this. Venus hums low in her chest. It's not been enough to heat his skin yet, but it will be soon. He does exactly like she's asked and he's so good.

So, Venus brings the paddle down again and again, keeping a slow, steady rhythm. It lets him say no if he wants, lets him call stop if he wants and she waits to hear the number each time before she brings the paddle down again.

His skin gradually takes a pretty rosy underglow. She just wants to lick it, he's being so good.

It's at the fifteenth hit that Derek starts to really feel the inevitable sting. There had been ghostly stings that were there and gone, but this lingers even as he says the number, even as she brings the paddle down again. Sixteen, he says. What number are they going to? Fifty? Oh damn.

And still, even with the sting, he feels the arousal that comes with an act like this, the arousal that comes with a man like him letting anyone, let alone a woman like her, do this. It's a strange mixture of pleasure and pain that he doesn't quite know what to do with.

Can he keep going? Yes. He'll keep going. "Seventeen." He says around a wince and a gasp of air when the paddle comes down again.

His voice is noticeably different. Venus didn't expect them to go past ten, remember and she is not going to do anything that hurts him. So, after eighteen, she runs her palm over his skin. She has to trust that he'll safeword if he needs to, that he'll be as honest with her as he promised he would be.

He is, though, she thinks, going to have a hell of a time sitting down tomorrow. She smiles just a little.

She doesn't lighten nineteen - that would insult him - but she does watch his face. Her hips ache, she wants him so badly for this. Venus's cheeks are flushed and there is the slightest sheen of sweat at her brow. "You are gorgeous, lover. Gorgeous."

Her palm over his irritated skin is somehow both soft and rough at the same time. He realizes, belatedly, that it isn't rough at all. The touch just draws out the stinging sensation, and not in a bad way. In fact, he realizes he's subconsciously pressed back against it.

There is no discounting the fact that sitting tomorrow will be difficult. He'll feel this for awhile.

At nineteen, he winces again, his entire body jerking with the blow. And at twenty, he somehow hears himself saying 'okay wait. wait...' even if it doesn't entirely sound like his own voice saying it, with the strange mixture of discomfort and arousal he feels right now. He's supposed to say something. What is it again?

What he says works, really. Venus lets the paddle drop to the bed and she leans forward, running her palm this time over his head, turning his chin to look at her. "Are you safewording, lover?" she asks, and her expression is gentle. There is nothing wrong with safewording, not ever. He's been so good.

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