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“Okay, okay. Open your eyes, how do I look?” You ask, stepping back from Shark and Vile and giving a little spin after letting them into your room. There's a mixture of excitement and nervousness in your tone. Pretty typical for a first date.
“eh. y’look fine i guess.” Shark says in his ever so kind and not at all sarcastic way.
“Har har. Thank you for the confidence boost there Shark. You are, as always, ever so helpful.” You respond, sarcasm heavy. “What about you? You’ve been quiet. I didn’t like put my shirt on inside out did I?” You ask, now addressing Vile, nerves creeping back in.
Vile, having seemingly been distracted by something, snaps back to the current conversation. “No. No. Not at all. You look fantastic darling. I’m sure Flint will love it.” He says with a tone that surely means nothing, stepping towards you and reaching to adjust the collar of your shirt.
Your shoulders droop as you let out a breath before taking one last look in the mirror. Your sheer gray button up is smoothly tucked into your white jeans, the handkerchief, matching the color of your top, and tucked into your back right pocket is draping nicely, and your docs are laced tight. Everything is as it should be. You look good, and maybe your top has a few more buttons undone than would be considered tasteful. But who cares, you’re going to the beach, in the void, where there will definitely not be anyone accidentally stumbling onto you two.
You quickly thank them both and usher them out of your room following behind and shutting your door before going to meet Flint, then walking together to the beach. The walk starts a little awkward, but by the time you're at the beach you're walking hand in hand and sharing comfortable conversation.
“So why can’t we swim? Is the water toxic here or something?” You ask once you’re both settled. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
“No. It just doesn’t have a floor. I mean the water is also probably toxic, but there's also no sea floor, and since none of us except you have natural buoyancy, none of us have swam in it to find out.”
You cringe at the thought. “Usually I love swimming but I think I’m good on that one.” We can save the bottomless death trap for another day.
He chuckles. “Well I’d hope the date isn’t so bad you feel the need to swim away where I can't follow you.” He pauses. “I do have a question though.”
“I might have an answer.”
“It’s probably a little weird.”
“I’m pretty weird. I don’t mind.”
He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Okay. So… the tape… is that a normal human thing or…” He trails off.
“Oh. Yeah it's not. It's cause I'm trans and I lowkey don't like having tits. There's different ways to make them not as apparent but this is the way I like. It just kinda squishes them off to the sides and I can still breathe normally and I'm not risking fucking up my ribs or anything.” You absentmindedly roll onto your front as you’re explaining. Once you do though, he gives you an odd look. Both of you open your mouths to say something, but you shut yours and gesture him to speak, sitting up as you do, hoping you didn’t do or say anything weird.
“You’re um… you… that… are you..? Do you… know… um… why are you- why do you have that hanky? In your pocket?” This is probably the most caught off guard you’ve seen him.
“No? Why? Is it like lace code? Don’t tell me I’ve just said I’m like a neo-nazi or a racist or something accidentally. I promise I’m not.” You explain.
“Oh. No, not like that. Is there a code with laces too?” He asks.
You let out a little relieved laugh, letting yourself fall back down onto the blanket again. “Yeah there's a lace code. It’s a punk thing, and only technically applies to a certain shoe with a certain lacing pattern. I have anti-racist and pro-queer.” You gesture down to your mismatched yellow and purple laces. “What’s the handkerchief code about then if not that?” You ask, turning to your side to look over at him.
“Do you really wanna know?” He asks, softly guiding you to lay on your back again as he looms over you.
You nod, stunned to silence, already feeling warmth creeping up your face.
“Hanky code is a code gay men use to signal what they’re into without those not in the know finding out.” He takes both your hands in one of his, bringing them over your head, but leaving time for you to pull away. When you let him keep going he brings his other hand to cup your cheek. “Both the color and placement in either back pocket tell what you’re into, and what position you take.” He continues. His hand trails down your neck, then down your side, to your hip, watching you carefully for any hesitance. “The gray, in your right pocket, tells me you like being tied up.” He taps your hip with a finger as he speaks, his face coming close, just a breath away from yours.
“Well if that's what it means, maybe I should keep it there then.” Your voice remains even, though quiet. Your face however, has most certainly lit up in a blush by now.
“Well… if that’s true… then maybe… I wouldn’t mind hog tying a guy as handsome and sweet as you.” He murmurs against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Of course…” He pauses, quickly pulling away and sitting up. “I can’t count on assumptions. After all, you didn’t even know what it meant before I told you just now.”
“Oh my god you're the worst ever.” You say, muffled into your hands as you curl up onto your side, facing away from him and covering your burning face.
“Awww. I’m the worst? What did I ever do to deserve such a title my dear?” He says, sidling up behind you and wrapping himself around you.
You turn around in his arms, wrapping your own around him and meeting his gaze. “You… I… You are driving me to the crazy.” You huff, hiding your face once again, this time against his shoulder.
“Driving you to the crazy? Well I think you know how to make me stop. All you have to do is tell me what’s making you so crazy.” He brings a hand to your face again, guiding your head back so you can look at him. You try just giving him puppy eyes, but he doesn’t relent. The bastard.
“I… wouldn’t mind you tying me up.” You mumble, eyes drifting away.
“Hmmm. I’m not sure if I can believe you if you won’t even look at me when you say that.” He squeezes your face with just a tiny bit of force. “Try again.” His tone is light, but his words are most definitely a command.
“I would like it if you tied me up.” You say, voice soft, but eyes not leaving his.
“Good job darling.” He mutters before softly kissing you.