perchancetodream_logs | [CLOSED PROMPT] Winner's Circle

[CLOSED PROMPT] Winner's Circle

SPECIAL EVENT- Winner's Circle!

A Secret Adventure

When Lior, Lucas, and John arrive with their guests at the edge of the Jet River, all the way on the farest edge of the Twisted City, there is a gondola waiting, big enough for all six. It’s clear you are intended to board.

The gondola carries the six of you down the river. If this wasn’t what the canyon on either side of the river normally looked like, it might worry you that this feels more like a trap than a celebration. This area has always been eerie, and with how few visits people make to the looming white towers that serve as the Office of Dream Administration, it’s no surprise most people would not be familiar.

However, the boat docks at the pier in the building’s underpass. The river passes completely through the lowest level of the tower, flowing out to the other side. To your left, there is a hotel-like desk, with a wall behind it full of grooves flowing with gravity-defying water streams. The Outsider sits at this desk. At the sight of their winners, they rise, grinning broadly as ever.

“Hello, my friends!” they greet you warmly, shaking the hand of each winner. “Congratulations to all of you. Thank you so much for your exemplary dedication to making meaningful connections. I do apologize for the vagueness--- I wanted this next part to be a surprise. Follow me!”

They lead everyone to the opposite side of the building, where an archway opens up to the wide, dark ocean that leads the way to Marrow Isle. However, today, it is brightly lit, and a new island lies in the distance, covered in beautiful trees and flowers. There are a few buildings there. And on the pier just outside the ODA, there are three boats.

No, not boats. They’re small yachts.

“Inside each of these boats,” the Outsider says enthusiastically, “you will find the finest luxuries. But not just any luxuries--- specifically, your personal idea of luxury, which you can share with the friend you’ve brought. The yachts will automatically sail you to that island there over the course of a day, where there is a relaxing vacation awaiting you all, featuring the finest amenities I could dream up for you, and then after two days, you will return. All in all, your trip will last four days. I hope you enjoy it!”

The Outsider lingers in case anyone has questions, but for the most part they leave everyone to it. The boats, painted with the names “The Lovely Lunari,” “Lebkutchen”, and “Co Bao”, respectively, would be easily identified by their intended owners.

How will you spend your vacation?

DATE

Mar. 11, 2023

THEME

An extension of "Full Fathom Five".

QUICK NAV

Locations

Feather Tracker

The Outsider

Vacation Vibes

As the small yachts (which are still pretty big for two people, to be honest) set sail toward the beautiful island, the air grows warmer, and the remaining bits of winter's chill that cling to the early spring air melt away, leaving behind an almost-summer-but-not-quite, perfectly warm, breezy climate. The smell of ocean salt fills the air, and you and your travelling companion are left to explore.

The yacht itself is somewhere between an extension of the Nimbus Cloud of the person it belongs to, and an idealized dream, morphing to each winner's idea of perfect luxury. Want a broad deck with space to entertain under the ocean sky? It's yours. Hotel-like cabins with beautiful ocean views? You got it. Perhaps an elegant, romantic space for the happy couple; a rustic, easy-going but high end boys' club for the best friends; and a modest but handsome house boat for the pair of soldiers with a burgeoning romance? Of course, it's all up to you! You earned it!

When you reach the island, you dock at a beautiful ocean resort comprised of small thatch-roof villas attached to piers that sit on the water, each with a floating outdoor hangout space. On shore, there's beautiful cabanas, fire pits, a boat house where you can rent small vessels for reef-snorkling or ocean fishing, and a main resort with a stunning restaurant inside a greenhouse, natural hot spring, and the entrance to the island's lazy river. Put nature walks to shame--- why walk through the lush jungle, full of stunning flora and wildlife, when you can float through it on this relaxing current of warm water? There's even a few unique pit stops along the way to get out of your float and take in the scenery.

Then, back at your villa, the accommodations are perfect for you and your companion, however you would have them. With all your worries attended to and everything just the way you like it, you can take a load off and relax until it's time to head home. You have four days to kick back, so make the most of it!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

{Closed To Captain Jack—duration of the vacation}

When he found out he won some sort of prize, John didn’t really believe it at first—then when he believed, he didn’t know what to do or who to invite, not knowing what lay ahead…

Facing something unknown, teased with the promise of something good to come—he asked Jack to come with him.

Now, they have this boat, this yacht to themselves…and that little spark that’s been fanned to life in John, the one that made him want enough to reach for something in asking for the ranch or reach for Jack every time Jack has extended his hand, makes him grateful he did once they set sail.

The yacht really is a robust little house boat—but styled like a Vietnamese boat he remembered from back in the waking world. Bigger, clean and shining, littered with comfort in plush cushions and soft curtains in the doorways of the portions of the cabin that were above deck, but that rustic little boat all the same above deck.

For all John had endured on that boat, what clings to him as he and Jack explore is the quiet, the peace, and the camaraderie of those first moments he ever had aboard such a ship. Talking with Co, sharing simple and pleasant company—finding something close to peace.

And as he looks around above deck and below, where there are rustic but spacious and comfortable staterooms and more to be had—stealing a few glances at Jack, John is painfully grateful to be able to share this bit of serenity with him as they set sail for their impromptu little island vacation.

{Open to the other winners}

During the course of the trip, John spends…well, a lot of time with Jack.

However, around the public areas, there are rare moments he can be caught alone and feeling sociable. Maybe he can be found having coffee in the restaurant early in the day, or taking a quiet moment by one of the fire pits at night before heading back into his shared villa.

Regardless, if you’d like to catch the man at loose ends in a rare solitary moment in any of the public areas of this little resort paradise, feel free to stop him and say hello.

When John first asked him to share in whatever the Outsider was giving, Jack had wanted to gently but firmly decline, insist there had to be someone John knew better, someone more deserving of any kind of reward. But after that nasty little trip down John's memory lane, he knew better than to actually put the thought into words. As much as he didn't think that being kind of a stubborn ass and refusing to budge until the nightmare ended had earned him anything, he'd been on the other side enough times to understand the way it made a person feel about anyone who helped you find your way out of the dark, how no matter what they might say it felt like you owed some intangible debt you had no idea how to pay off.

By the time the Outsider had finished their little spiel, though, most of Jack's misgivings had melted away and it was all he could do not to grin like a madman. Maybe he hadn't earned this little getaway, but John sure as hell had and Jack was going to make absolutely sure he enjoyed it. And luckily, he had lots of practice at making sure good looking guys actually enjoyed their R&R.

Which of course had nothing to do with him discarding his coat and rolling up his sleeves minutes after they disembarked. Honestly, nothing at all.

"Oh baby, now you've got some character don't you?" It's not clear if he's conscious of the fact he's actually talking to the yacht; you spend enough time with at least partially-sentient crafts and computers, it sort of becomes second nature. "See, this is why it's a good thing I'm just the plus-one. I'd've got some real shiny toy with all kinds of bells and whistles, but nothing like this."

And, okay, maybe he is consciously putting a little more swagger into his gait as he keeps walking the deck, humming snatches of 'You're the Top' as his hands keep lightly caressing the body of the vessel as he goes. But considering how much time he's spent giving John his darker performances, he's way overdue for a lighter show.

John can see it, a little--Jack putting on a show, something that's just that little bit more than the softer glimpses he'd seen of the man. The pain, the empathy, the grit...stuff he seems to hide under charisma and good looks. He has a feeling that it's a lot more heavy handed most of the time, smooth as silk and as natural in its rhythm as breathing, but way more intense.

John...well, yeah, he's admiring the view, he's got a pulse--but he doesn't want a show. Hell, he's still not even sure what to do with...this. This rest, this respite.

...but maybe this is it? Maybe this is less a performance and more like the day they first met: a hand extended to show him something else, something better…

John just isn’t sure Jack would want the same things John wants, more and sharper every time he’s around him.

Crossing over to where Jack is petting the edge of the ship, humming and posing a little, John sits on a bench and looks up at Jack along the line of his body.

The water laps gently at the side of the boat. John remembers a knife in his hand gouging worn wood idly, harmlessly, the comfortable warmth of another human presence against his psyche.

“You remember when we met?” He asks quietly, his gaze steady and warm as it met Jack’s. “You offered me…an open door, and I said I would take it when I wanted it, not when I needed it?”

Steeling himself, John reaches up and catches Jack’s hand, threading their fingers together very deliberately.

“I…I want it.”

I want you.

John wants to say it out loud—but not unless he’s sure Jack knows just how much John wants.

While Jack was certainly hoping that having this unexpected time completely alone together in safety would help John relax enough to ask for something, Jack honestly hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. Sure, he's had two wars and a century and change of practice at helping so many men and some women let go of the shame their world and people had instilled in them, but they all usually spent a lot more time pointedly not-looking at him, laughing at his double-and-triple entendres and telling him he's awful and wicked, before they actually let go enough to let themselves want, let alone admit it.

And, while he tries so hard not to let his past swallow up the present, it's impossible for him not to feel another soldier's fingers lacing through his just for a moment, saying the same thing with different words and with so much more haste. His present and the people who needed him there had kept him from giving everything the man who had first carried his name all he deserved that night. But now for the first time in decades there was no threat, alien or human, that needed Jack to be The Captain to defend against. Here and now, his only obligation is to John.

"Yeah, I remember," he says, quietly, as he tightens his own hold and steps forward. "So, whatever you want that I can give you here, it's yours." The gentle tone of his voice and lack of lecherous intent in his words might surprise his more casual acquaintances, the people he hasn't held in hell, but he couldn't give a damn about any of them; he's just glad he's still capable of being this man-- the one who spends so much hiding behind the Playboy and the Captain that there have been times Jack's worried he'll be entirely lost--for someone who needs him.

…and this is where he falters.

Because John has kissed another man—Christ, he owes Lucas a year’s supply of his favorite booze for his help during the holidays. Urging John to kiss himself free of the stupid mistletoe tree, letting him…try that thing he had so carefully stowed away inside himself. The thing that wanted as a kid, that felt during the war, the lies he meticulously told himself as he watched not just brothers die around him, but men he loved and could never tell.

Knowing it was safe to open that box here, hesitantly letting himself think and feel freely—even that silly speed dating where he met Shane. Feeling that attraction, that connection…

Now John is alone with a man he wants, in so many ways—and reaching out for that, for the more that comes with more than just kissing or talking…he’s taken on entire militias damn near by himself, and this is the thing that scares him.

Using their joined hands, John tugs and keeps tugging, hoping Jack will get the message and sit down on the bench, letting them face each other. If he does, maybe he’ll see the fear in his eyes, feel the tremor of apprehension in their linked fingers.

John is afraid—but he’s no coward. So he’ll push through the fear and lift their hands, shifting his grip so their fingers are no longer tangled.

So John can bend his head and press his mouth to the inside of Jack’s wrist—breathe his skin, feel his warmth, let that flutter of his living pulse beat against his lips for a moment.

When his head lifts, his eyes meet Jack’s without hiding the longing he’s feeling.

“Will you give me this?” He asks quietly, tipping his head and pressing Jack’s palm against his cheek, holding it there as he asks for things he hopes are possible.

For Jack—as he is now, this version of him that feels the most real. This Jack, touching him and holding him, letting John touch him in return…letting John have him.

“Even if it’s just for a little while?”

Jack might still stumble from time to time with the meaning of words back where he'd been before coming here, the way they can change so swiftly between just a few years or from town to town, but these sorts of cues have rarely been difficult for him to interpret no matter where or when he is. He lets John pull him down, taking stock of the things the other man's body is saying for him. Maybe when he'd been younger and so much less experienced than he wanted to believe, Jack might have laughed and made a stupid, heartless joke about how he wasn't going to bite unless that was something John wanted or something equally flippant. But he's been this for too many men from John's time and before to be that careless now.

So he waits, not letting go until John does, and when he feels the familiar touch of lips against his skin he lets out a quiet sigh that doesn't have a hint of laughter or mockery, hopefully leaving John without any doubt it was definitely something he enjoyed.

He doesn't give the slightest resistance to John moving his hand, fingers only moving the smallest bit to better curve against his face as he leans in close enough for his breath to whisper through John's hair.

"Yes," he murmurs, sealing his word by pressing his mouth to the underside of John's jaw. "Yes."

There’s something just as frightening about how easy it feels—not to let Jack kiss him, not to let a man kiss him, but to shut his eyes and feel his head tip back with a shaky inhale of breath. It feels almost primal, the animal display of his throat, the trust he feels in letting himself be so physically vulnerable.

There’s a dozen ways to die like this—eyes closed, throat bared, breath stolen with a flicker of pleasure simmering in his blood and a vise of emotion squeezing his lungs.

He fears none of them as Jack kisses his jaw—and that is what’s scary.

It’s also not enough. The newness of a man’s nearness like this, a broader mouth on his skin and a bigger, rougher hand on his cheek is welcome and wonderful…but not enough.

Tipping his head against Jack’s for a moment, John’s hand lifts to slide through Jack’s hair, urging him back so John can shift—a little clumsy, nose bumping a cheek and breath puffing over a chin—before his mouth settles on Jack’s. It’s soft, borderline chaste…and it’s perfect.

The next kiss is a little more hesitant…but it’s anything but chaste.

Jack's only a little surprised that John's moving with such fervor already--he's been in this kind of position enough times to know that generally, people who have spent any considerable amount of time resisting what they want just because the world's made them feel like it's wrong go one of two ways about it when they finally get the chance and work up a little nerve to act on it. It's either a tortuously drawn out affair of barely-felt kisses and flimsy excuses to touch hands, or…this.

He's so glad John's fallen into the second camp. Not for himself--well, okay, not entirely (immortal or not, his body does still have certain ideas about how this kind of thing should go), but mostly for John. After watching the other man try to stay trapped in his own hell just to protect someone else, Jack's beyond thrilled he's letting himself have something good. Because while he might scoff at anyone calling him a good man, Jack knows he's good at this, at making sure whoever he's with don't regret giving at least some part of their body to him, no matter how they mind wind up feeling about giving him far more delicate things when they inevitably part.

Feeling less worried the other man's going to bolt, he presses a hand flat against his back, not restraining but just to make it easier to deepen the kiss.

"Tell me," he says, in a moment pulls away for breath that he might not really need in this place, but habits are hard to break and he really doesn't like people seeing him experience anything more than a little death in this kind of situation, "that someone," he moves back in with a small, daring bit of tongue, "has told you you're a damn good kisser before."

John wonders dimly if it’s because he’s still so starved for simple human contact, that he’s already breathing hard and heat is bleeding under his skin. Maybe it’s just been so long since he even considered sex that has his heart racing…

His own body answers for him as Jack’s hand splays against his back, just about arching into the touch like a cat begging for attention.

Definitely more of the former—but as Jack draws back for air, teases him with a brief, deep sweep of his tongue, John’s pretty sure the latter is definitely a factor, too.

The compliment makes John smile, small and soft—even a little shy. He’s never been told so directly before, not by anyone he believed, but Jack…

John lets both his hands slide into Jack’s hair, eyes flicking over his features for a moment—then draws him back in slowly, deliberately, to claim his mouth again with greedy sweeps of his own tongue, and a quiet, low sound in his chest somewhere between desire and contentment.

John Rambo

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lioriley | original

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