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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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."