[Oh, there he is. There's that competitive spark, the linking up of how Zoro is in the world with how he is--or could be, could explore being--sexually. It's that degree to which finding a spark, an object, something to pique one's interest is always, in a sense, re-finding it in a new manifestation, a new form.
That's something Vrenille knows how to work with. That's something he likes to work with.
His own memories from long before he ever set foot in Duplicity already involved enough encounters with enough men to blur one into the next--there were some he saw again and again who stood out, figures in bas-relief against the background homogeneity of quick blowjobs behind the Ebon Vanguard barracks and hired rooms above the tavern more memorable for the soft bed and hot bath he could leverage than the company he kept.
The faces of those men may blur, and mostly he never knew their names only the colour of their coin, but that doesn't mean there was no care or intimacy between them, albeit in a nonstandard sort of way. It doesn't mean he didn't learn from them--the sum total of them, each taken one by one.
He learned how to listen, how to hear (and say) "no," but also the more complicated and subtle versions of "yes," the guarded versions of it, the ways that "yes" gets couched as a challenge, or a dare, how it wants sometimes to flirt with danger, rivalry, opposition. And importantly, he learned to tell the difference between the kind of risk that plays and the kind of risk that genuinely threatens. He wouldn't be alive or whole now if he hadn't.
So he's neither lying nor exaggerating when he cocks his head at Zoro, a rakish grin and his voice breathy, low.]
Years of practice and experience.
[He shifts to lean on his side, settling in and getting comfortable, with just a slight note of disbelief and playful counter-challenge coming into his tone.]
cw: implied sex work
That's something Vrenille knows how to work with. That's something he likes to work with.
His own memories from long before he ever set foot in Duplicity already involved enough encounters with enough men to blur one into the next--there were some he saw again and again who stood out, figures in bas-relief against the background homogeneity of quick blowjobs behind the Ebon Vanguard barracks and hired rooms above the tavern more memorable for the soft bed and hot bath he could leverage than the company he kept.
The faces of those men may blur, and mostly he never knew their names only the colour of their coin, but that doesn't mean there was no care or intimacy between them, albeit in a nonstandard sort of way. It doesn't mean he didn't learn from them--the sum total of them, each taken one by one.
He learned how to listen, how to hear (and say) "no," but also the more complicated and subtle versions of "yes," the guarded versions of it, the ways that "yes" gets couched as a challenge, or a dare, how it wants sometimes to flirt with danger, rivalry, opposition. And importantly, he learned to tell the difference between the kind of risk that plays and the kind of risk that genuinely threatens. He wouldn't be alive or whole now if he hadn't.
So he's neither lying nor exaggerating when he cocks his head at Zoro, a rakish grin and his voice breathy, low.]
Years of practice and experience.
[He shifts to lean on his side, settling in and getting comfortable, with just a slight note of disbelief and playful counter-challenge coming into his tone.]
And sorry, did you just call jerking off tedious?