Castiel wasn't really much of a hunter. Quite the opposite, really. When it came to subtle things like this, he missed most of his cues, and this nightclub seemed to be pretty much be all about those subtle changes in character, in sensuality and temptation; not a language that the angel knew well. He watched the humans dancing, sensual women in tightly clad outfits, rubber and leather and silver, equally sensual men grinding up against them, or against each other. Others were copulating in the dark corners, and one was even being masturbated by the writhing dancer behind him, boldly, out in the open.
For all Castiel knew, this behavior was normal, places like this were normal. Of course, he was also overdressed, complete with his coat, shirt, and tie. He had a drink in front of him, which he hadn't touched--after all, if he drank it, he would only have to buy another. He was out of place, without a doubt, not that he wasn't drawing the odd inviting look or touch that went right over his head. One young woman had sat with him for a few moments, sliding his hands across his chest. She'd left not more than a minute later, crying.
Castiel was here looking for a god, after all, sent on a mission by Heaven to clean up their mess. Apparently, the man - or at least he resembled a man, presently - had been seen here. Loki. The real one. He wasn't even sure what to expect, but, watching a young woman clip her companion's collar with a leash, leading her over toward the bar. It was definitely interesting, if unusual, and Castiel found himself wondering what this god was like; certainly a creature of depravity.
What would he be like?
Too bad that Castiel would have to put the witchhazel stake he'd brought with him through his chest.
For a long while, Loki suspected angels might eventually come looking for him.
When exactly? That was impossible to say, though he highly suspected such a time would come when he could no longer get away with causing mischief and allowing the archangel Gabriel to take the blame while using his name. A bit of a cooperative effort, that. Some give and take. Maybe he'd taken a bit too much lately.
Perhaps someone might see it as going overboard when he tried to insert demons in highly powerful church positions just for his own amusement. Or maybe his attempts to stick his nose into Heaven's business in hopes of learning valuable secrets didn't go by unnoticed. The list of misdeeds went on, but those were the worst he'd engaged in most recently. The only reasons he could suspect would land him in trouble.
Possible trouble with beings more powerful than himself disturbed Loki much less than it likely should have. When he wasn't busy sneaking around Earth looking to cause chaos, he often frequented bars like this, where humans were free with their sexuality and didn't allow social norms to burden them with pesky limitations. He was dressed in the same sorts of leather as other of the bar's patrons, though his tastes were a bit more extravagant than most. Otherwise, his appearance did not mark him out from the others much at all.
The man in the suit staring at his drink, however? He stood out in the worst way possible. A cop possibly, though wouldn't law enforcement know to at least attempt to blend in?
Curious, Loki stepped over to the bar and sat himself down on a stool next to the stranger. He boldly picked up his glass and took a sip of the untouched drink. What was subtlety?
Castiel wasn't sure about many things, but when it came to drinking at bars, he was almost a hundred percent sure that other people weren't supposed to drink you scotch on the rocks. He blinked at the action, then up at the stranger, still reeling over the one overreach before he'd even considered the second.
Was he enjoying himself? He was supposed to be, he imagined, but all this...it seemed a little like a participation sport, and he wasn't really participating.
"Not particularly."
At least it was honest. His attention snapped back to the stranger, and the blue caught his eyes as he looked him over. He looked human enough; not the creature he was looking for, then, not unless his spellwork was good enough to shroud himself in the veneer of humanity. If that were the case, then Loki could be any of these patrons, and Castiel would never find him.
"If you're thirsty," he began, summoning as much courage into his voice as he could muster. "You should order a drink of your own."
Loki had indeed expended great effort in perfecting his human disguise over the centuries. Other supernatural beings would be able to read his magical signature otherwise, making his already human-like Asgardian appearance, or any variations, useless.
Such an enormously powerful spell required far too much focus without an enchanted item to carry the burden. The thin silver chain her wore around his neck, ornamented with an unassuming copper ring, kept him hidden from even Heimdall's all-seeing eyes as long as he wore it.
Precautions were necessary to ensure he remained hidden from his father as well as any angry angels who might come looking for him. So far his sorcery had yet to fail.
As for picking out other magical beings? Honestly, he wished it was easier. Loki knew a few spells that could reveal them, though he had no experience detecting angels. Demons, maybe, but not the uptight legion of the clouds. As far as he knew, this man at the bar was perfectly human. Attractive as well once one looked past the trench coat.
"I don't order drinks," he replied with a smirk. "But I could certainly order you."
Loki took another sip of the drink, obviously not phased in the slightest by the stranger's displeasure with his behavior. "Care to be my submissive for the evening? You might relax more readily in the VIP lounge."
It was startlingly straightforward. Between the lingering looks, and the angle that the man sat in the chair beside him, his boldness in the request was hardly unexpected. Castiel's mind was quick - quicker than most - quick enough to run through all the possible answers in his head before he even said them. He was here looking for someone else: rude, but it would excuse him; he wasn't sexually submissive: at least half true; and yes: yes provided the greatest opportunity.
Fine, he didn't understand the concept very well. The basics, certainly. Angels were naturally submissive, that was what they were programmed to be, and he could recognize the function at play in the people around them; there was clearly one person dominating another. Perhaps that was what the thing with the drink was about.
But the sex didn't interest him. It was the other part of the man's invitation that most resounded with him. The VIP lounge? He hadn't even realized there was such a place. His failed efforts to locate Loki suddenly made a great deal of sense, because if a god was going to be anywhere in this place, particularly one with an ego like Loki's, it would be in the place occupied by other very important people; a place Castiel had no hope of getting unless he was invited.
He worked his lips for a fraction of a second, just a hint of pink tongue as he chewed the thought through. A second, at the most, and then he nodded.
"That sounds acceptable," he agreed, calmly. He didn't even know this man's name--but that was alright, it wasn't as though he was in a hurry to share his own, either.
The man's response came quickly enough, leaving Loki with a satisfied feeling that he'd read him correctly. With a nod, he slid the glass back over to him, an offer to finish the drink he'd purchased during the following brief discussion.
"Excellent," he began. "I am known as Jack around here, but you will refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Master.'"
Patrons of these sorts of places rarely offered real names, especially to those they'd recently met. Loki never gave his own, just in case he managed to come across someone he'd pissed off or might otherwise wish to attack an old god. Again, precautions. There were too many beings, human and non-human alike, that were well-aware of what his name meant.
"From the moment we rise from our seats and onward, you are to obey my every command without question. Your safe word is 'orange,' though use it wisely. Once you say it, all play will cease immediately and we will part ways. Do you understand?"
This rule was an essential one at the club, unfortunately. Some people uttered their safe word almost immediately, ones who didn't understand what they were about to do and weren't willing to give it a chance. Such a shame. Hopefully he would have better luck tonight.
The gesture clearly meant "drink up", and Castiel took the glass, draining it without question. Scotch was supposed to be smooth, agreeable, but he didn't taste anything of the sort; it was no more special or complex than a taste of mudwater, though he supposed the latter would have done unpleasant things to the smell of his breath.
"I understand," he echoed, as he placed the glass back down on the table. There was no need to ruminate on it, though the purpose of the "safe word" did baffle him. Why not just say "stop"? Still, he did at least appraise the floor before he slid his feet down onto it, reconsidering it the way that someone might consider the safe footing on a mountainside. It represented a change in his status, in some way, the ramifications of which he had yet to learn.
But it was worth it--would be worth it. He could look for Loki better if he could look in all possible places.
His blue eyes returned to Loki, soft and placid, waiting for direction. Nobody had told him that obedience meant not asking questions, so he didn't hold back:
"Good," he said, watching the man finish his drink and lower the glass onto the counter. It was obviously too soon to know whether or not this evening would be worthwhile or not, but the gentle look in his potential submissive's eyes made him feel hopeful that he'd picked the right person. Obviously he had little experience doing this, judging by the way he kept looking at Loki and proceeded to immediately ask a question, but there was always something nice about the new ones. A little push back made things exciting.
"You will follow me... or rather, you will follow my feet. Keep your gaze lowered and only speak when I ask you to speak."
He rose to his feet then, gesturing plainly for the other man to do the same. There would be no punishments until he knew the rules, but after that? Well, sometimes people spoke out on purpose. One could never know beforehand.
"I'd also like a name, real or fake."
From that point he began walking forward, around chattering people and toward a staircase tucked away in the back right hand corner of the bar. Though the noise lessened as they approached, other sounds could be heard above. Sounds of lovemaking, and the occasional cry of pain.
Castiel was a good soldier. It only took hearing an order once for him to obey it, even if he didn't actually understand it. He'd question, if he had to question, but while he already understood, he'd keep his silence. This was done for pleasure, and he was trying to blend in, already long since having established that pain and obedience was all part of the enjoyment for the people here. To fit in, he had to be the same as them. He had to avoid questioning it, like them.
"Cas. My name is Cas," he added, as he moved into position at Loki's heel. He'd need to be there in order to see where he was going, though perhaps he could have walked just as safely beside him, he couldn't see the corridor ahead, if it narrowed, or moved around furniture. One step behind would have to do. He didn't elaborate, either, on whether the name was real or fake. Cas would be best; he'd recognize it, but it didn't reveal who he was at all.
Castiel had to hold his nerve to climb the stairs toward those noises. They were much more passionate than those smothered by the music in the club downstairs. Those were rutting, desperate sort of noises, while above, Castiel thought the sounds seemed almost...musical. There was more to them than the animal sounds that came from down below, and he wanted desperately to raise his head and look, even if there would be nothing to see but the ceiling above their heads.
Staying quiet, though, was the easiest of "Jack's" commands so far. It was easy to stay quiet; apprehensive, almost..
'Sir' was good- expected, of course, but it still pleased him to hear. While it was still far too early to tell what sort of person this Cas would be once they got started, he was perfectly obedient thus far. Unbelievably, there were plenty of people who would approach him and then act like they were entitled to some sort of special treatment.
Loki personalized his evening as time passed. Planning too far ahead was pointless.
He did know where they were going firstly, however. The VIP room was the furthest room down the hallway as they reached the top of the stairs, a little golden plaque on the door indicating as much. He led them to another room a few doors down on the right, one he rented out whenever he was inclined to visit.
"I will prepare you for the evening in here. I hope you aren't terribly attached to any of those clothes."
He turned briefly toward Cas with a shark-line grin, then pulled a key out of one pocket to unlock and open the door. Stepping inside, he then gestured for the other man to enter as well. The room was dimly lit, not terribly extravagant, but possessed what one might expect in a hotel room. There was a bed in the center, a couch to one side and a desk to the other. The most striking difference was the array of sexual devices and toys spread out out over a table near the wardrobe.
There was something very troubling about Jack having his own room here at the club, although Castiel couldn't figure out quite what that was. He glanced at the plaque, however, as they stepped away from it, away from the hum of voices and sex within, feeling his concern deepen. What if this man wanted to have sex here, now, and at length, and had no intention of taking him to the VIP room at all? How would he watch for Loki then?
He felt another flutter of panic at the threat to his clothes, inclined to open his mouth and respond. He'd need them back in order to leave, but moreover he was attached to his coat. It was symbolic of...he didn't know what. But without it, he just wasn't himself.
He'd have to fetch them back before he went. Fortunately he could fly back in here himself, he wouldn't need the key.
Castiel stepped inside once gestured, moving out into the center of the room, even though he hadn't been directed to any one place in particular. Removing his clothes wasn't something he was infinitely practiced at, at least not in a physical, practical way, and so it made him hesitate almost naturally before he removed each item of clothing, taking off the coat first, and hanging it across his arm as he removed his tie, and plucked open the buttons of his shirt. He faltered, with one hand busy holding his clothes, unable to get the dress jacket and shirt off without first putting the clothes down--and the floor wouldn't do, didn't even occur to him. Not even Sam and Dean abandoned their clothes on the floor, and he hadn't learned the habit.
He moved for the bed to lay his things down, instead, and only then would he remove the rest of his clothing, one item at a time, with almost utilitarian focus on each task.
Cas' initial hesitation at his command was expected, but as Loki watched the way he undressed almost robotically and refused to simply drop the clothes, he began to wonder a bit more.
This was not how typical submissives behaved here, not even the ones who were nervous. His earlier thought that this might be some sort of undercover law enforcement officer returned briefly, though he once again discarded the idea when he noted the lack of firearm or wires as the man stripped. Naturally he wouldn't have complied if he had those things anyway, would he have?
So, why was he behaving oddly? Loki had centuries to learn how to read peoples' body language, a must for a trickster such as himself. Cas lacked many of the usual signs of excitement one would expect at a sex club. He considered the possibility that Cas might not be human- other beings frequented places like this often enough. It was a possibility.
Or maybe he just had an unusual personality quirk. Maybe it didn't matter either way.
"You seem nervous. Are you planning to back out of this?"
Castiel faltered, and forgot himself, turning toward Loki, curiously. He seemed nervous? He didn't feel remotely nervous--there was no part of this that frightened him. And yet he was aware that something - something was preventing this from clicking for the other man. He was uncomfortable, perhaps, or doubtful of Castiel's ability to perform some part of this suitably.
Which meant that he needed to do better. He needed to...to what? Castiel reached into his own mind, urgently, but all he could find there were Dean's sex dreams, and women dancing up against poles. Maybe he should be dancing.
But Loki was wrong; he wasn't unarmed, and there was a skewer of wood in his inside coat pocket with the god's name on it. Castiel was comfortable that he'd have time to fetch it when the god showed himself.
"Certainly not," he answered. "I merely... You asked me to strip, you weren't explicit as to how, so I assumed that you craved efficiency." He remembered himself, and dipped his eyes down to stare at the other man's feet instead. "However if you wish me to dance, I'm afraid I would have to disappoint you."
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For all Castiel knew, this behavior was normal, places like this were normal. Of course, he was also overdressed, complete with his coat, shirt, and tie. He had a drink in front of him, which he hadn't touched--after all, if he drank it, he would only have to buy another. He was out of place, without a doubt, not that he wasn't drawing the odd inviting look or touch that went right over his head. One young woman had sat with him for a few moments, sliding his hands across his chest. She'd left not more than a minute later, crying.
Castiel was here looking for a god, after all, sent on a mission by Heaven to clean up their mess. Apparently, the man - or at least he resembled a man, presently - had been seen here. Loki. The real one. He wasn't even sure what to expect, but, watching a young woman clip her companion's collar with a leash, leading her over toward the bar. It was definitely interesting, if unusual, and Castiel found himself wondering what this god was like; certainly a creature of depravity.
What would he be like?
Too bad that Castiel would have to put the witchhazel stake he'd brought with him through his chest.
no subject
When exactly? That was impossible to say, though he highly suspected such a time would come when he could no longer get away with causing mischief and allowing the archangel Gabriel to take the blame while using his name. A bit of a cooperative effort, that. Some give and take. Maybe he'd taken a bit too much lately.
Perhaps someone might see it as going overboard when he tried to insert demons in highly powerful church positions just for his own amusement. Or maybe his attempts to stick his nose into Heaven's business in hopes of learning valuable secrets didn't go by unnoticed. The list of misdeeds went on, but those were the worst he'd engaged in most recently. The only reasons he could suspect would land him in trouble.
Possible trouble with beings more powerful than himself disturbed Loki much less than it likely should have. When he wasn't busy sneaking around Earth looking to cause chaos, he often frequented bars like this, where humans were free with their sexuality and didn't allow social norms to burden them with pesky limitations. He was dressed in the same sorts of leather as other of the bar's patrons, though his tastes were a bit more extravagant than most. Otherwise, his appearance did not mark him out from the others much at all.
The man in the suit staring at his drink, however? He stood out in the worst way possible. A cop possibly, though wouldn't law enforcement know to at least attempt to blend in?
Curious, Loki stepped over to the bar and sat himself down on a stool next to the stranger. He boldly picked up his glass and took a sip of the untouched drink. What was subtlety?
"Enjoying yourself?"
no subject
Was he enjoying himself? He was supposed to be, he imagined, but all this...it seemed a little like a participation sport, and he wasn't really participating.
"Not particularly."
At least it was honest. His attention snapped back to the stranger, and the blue caught his eyes as he looked him over. He looked human enough; not the creature he was looking for, then, not unless his spellwork was good enough to shroud himself in the veneer of humanity. If that were the case, then Loki could be any of these patrons, and Castiel would never find him.
"If you're thirsty," he began, summoning as much courage into his voice as he could muster. "You should order a drink of your own."
no subject
Such an enormously powerful spell required far too much focus without an enchanted item to carry the burden. The thin silver chain her wore around his neck, ornamented with an unassuming copper ring, kept him hidden from even Heimdall's all-seeing eyes as long as he wore it.
Precautions were necessary to ensure he remained hidden from his father as well as any angry angels who might come looking for him. So far his sorcery had yet to fail.
As for picking out other magical beings? Honestly, he wished it was easier. Loki knew a few spells that could reveal them, though he had no experience detecting angels. Demons, maybe, but not the uptight legion of the clouds. As far as he knew, this man at the bar was perfectly human. Attractive as well once one looked past the trench coat.
"I don't order drinks," he replied with a smirk. "But I could certainly order you."
Loki took another sip of the drink, obviously not phased in the slightest by the stranger's displeasure with his behavior. "Care to be my submissive for the evening? You might relax more readily in the VIP lounge."
no subject
Fine, he didn't understand the concept very well. The basics, certainly. Angels were naturally submissive, that was what they were programmed to be, and he could recognize the function at play in the people around them; there was clearly one person dominating another. Perhaps that was what the thing with the drink was about.
But the sex didn't interest him. It was the other part of the man's invitation that most resounded with him. The VIP lounge? He hadn't even realized there was such a place. His failed efforts to locate Loki suddenly made a great deal of sense, because if a god was going to be anywhere in this place, particularly one with an ego like Loki's, it would be in the place occupied by other very important people; a place Castiel had no hope of getting unless he was invited.
He worked his lips for a fraction of a second, just a hint of pink tongue as he chewed the thought through. A second, at the most, and then he nodded.
"That sounds acceptable," he agreed, calmly. He didn't even know this man's name--but that was alright, it wasn't as though he was in a hurry to share his own, either.
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"Excellent," he began. "I am known as Jack around here, but you will refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Master.'"
Patrons of these sorts of places rarely offered real names, especially to those they'd recently met. Loki never gave his own, just in case he managed to come across someone he'd pissed off or might otherwise wish to attack an old god. Again, precautions. There were too many beings, human and non-human alike, that were well-aware of what his name meant.
"From the moment we rise from our seats and onward, you are to obey my every command without question. Your safe word is 'orange,' though use it wisely. Once you say it, all play will cease immediately and we will part ways. Do you understand?"
This rule was an essential one at the club, unfortunately. Some people uttered their safe word almost immediately, ones who didn't understand what they were about to do and weren't willing to give it a chance. Such a shame. Hopefully he would have better luck tonight.
no subject
"I understand," he echoed, as he placed the glass back down on the table. There was no need to ruminate on it, though the purpose of the "safe word" did baffle him. Why not just say "stop"? Still, he did at least appraise the floor before he slid his feet down onto it, reconsidering it the way that someone might consider the safe footing on a mountainside. It represented a change in his status, in some way, the ramifications of which he had yet to learn.
But it was worth it--would be worth it. He could look for Loki better if he could look in all possible places.
His blue eyes returned to Loki, soft and placid, waiting for direction. Nobody had told him that obedience meant not asking questions, so he didn't hold back:
"Which way?"
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"You will follow me... or rather, you will follow my feet. Keep your gaze lowered and only speak when I ask you to speak."
He rose to his feet then, gesturing plainly for the other man to do the same. There would be no punishments until he knew the rules, but after that? Well, sometimes people spoke out on purpose. One could never know beforehand.
"I'd also like a name, real or fake."
From that point he began walking forward, around chattering people and toward a staircase tucked away in the back right hand corner of the bar. Though the noise lessened as they approached, other sounds could be heard above. Sounds of lovemaking, and the occasional cry of pain.
no subject
Castiel was a good soldier. It only took hearing an order once for him to obey it, even if he didn't actually understand it. He'd question, if he had to question, but while he already understood, he'd keep his silence. This was done for pleasure, and he was trying to blend in, already long since having established that pain and obedience was all part of the enjoyment for the people here. To fit in, he had to be the same as them. He had to avoid questioning it, like them.
"Cas. My name is Cas," he added, as he moved into position at Loki's heel. He'd need to be there in order to see where he was going, though perhaps he could have walked just as safely beside him, he couldn't see the corridor ahead, if it narrowed, or moved around furniture. One step behind would have to do. He didn't elaborate, either, on whether the name was real or fake. Cas would be best; he'd recognize it, but it didn't reveal who he was at all.
Castiel had to hold his nerve to climb the stairs toward those noises. They were much more passionate than those smothered by the music in the club downstairs. Those were rutting, desperate sort of noises, while above, Castiel thought the sounds seemed almost...musical. There was more to them than the animal sounds that came from down below, and he wanted desperately to raise his head and look, even if there would be nothing to see but the ceiling above their heads.
Staying quiet, though, was the easiest of "Jack's" commands so far. It was easy to stay quiet; apprehensive, almost..
no subject
Loki personalized his evening as time passed. Planning too far ahead was pointless.
He did know where they were going firstly, however. The VIP room was the furthest room down the hallway as they reached the top of the stairs, a little golden plaque on the door indicating as much. He led them to another room a few doors down on the right, one he rented out whenever he was inclined to visit.
"I will prepare you for the evening in here. I hope you aren't terribly attached to any of those clothes."
He turned briefly toward Cas with a shark-line grin, then pulled a key out of one pocket to unlock and open the door. Stepping inside, he then gestured for the other man to enter as well. The room was dimly lit, not terribly extravagant, but possessed what one might expect in a hotel room. There was a bed in the center, a couch to one side and a desk to the other. The most striking difference was the array of sexual devices and toys spread out out over a table near the wardrobe.
This place was always well-equipped.
"Strip."
no subject
He felt another flutter of panic at the threat to his clothes, inclined to open his mouth and respond. He'd need them back in order to leave, but moreover he was attached to his coat. It was symbolic of...he didn't know what. But without it, he just wasn't himself.
He'd have to fetch them back before he went. Fortunately he could fly back in here himself, he wouldn't need the key.
Castiel stepped inside once gestured, moving out into the center of the room, even though he hadn't been directed to any one place in particular. Removing his clothes wasn't something he was infinitely practiced at, at least not in a physical, practical way, and so it made him hesitate almost naturally before he removed each item of clothing, taking off the coat first, and hanging it across his arm as he removed his tie, and plucked open the buttons of his shirt. He faltered, with one hand busy holding his clothes, unable to get the dress jacket and shirt off without first putting the clothes down--and the floor wouldn't do, didn't even occur to him. Not even Sam and Dean abandoned their clothes on the floor, and he hadn't learned the habit.
He moved for the bed to lay his things down, instead, and only then would he remove the rest of his clothing, one item at a time, with almost utilitarian focus on each task.
no subject
This was not how typical submissives behaved here, not even the ones who were nervous. His earlier thought that this might be some sort of undercover law enforcement officer returned briefly, though he once again discarded the idea when he noted the lack of firearm or wires as the man stripped. Naturally he wouldn't have complied if he had those things anyway, would he have?
So, why was he behaving oddly? Loki had centuries to learn how to read peoples' body language, a must for a trickster such as himself. Cas lacked many of the usual signs of excitement one would expect at a sex club. He considered the possibility that Cas might not be human- other beings frequented places like this often enough. It was a possibility.
Or maybe he just had an unusual personality quirk. Maybe it didn't matter either way.
"You seem nervous. Are you planning to back out of this?"
no subject
Which meant that he needed to do better. He needed to...to what? Castiel reached into his own mind, urgently, but all he could find there were Dean's sex dreams, and women dancing up against poles. Maybe he should be dancing.
But Loki was wrong; he wasn't unarmed, and there was a skewer of wood in his inside coat pocket with the god's name on it. Castiel was comfortable that he'd have time to fetch it when the god showed himself.
"Certainly not," he answered. "I merely... You asked me to strip, you weren't explicit as to how, so I assumed that you craved efficiency." He remembered himself, and dipped his eyes down to stare at the other man's feet instead. "However if you wish me to dance, I'm afraid I would have to disappoint you."