ic inbox.

[heatmetal]

[ his voicemail greeting is just a guitar riff ]

Comments

[camarod]

Dude, I have to level with you. This thing scares the shit out of me - but if it'll get us 700K I'll give it my college best.

[heatmetal]

[ yeah that's. probably not gonna fit. ]

You can suck it if nothing else. That has to be someone's thing. [ it may be his thing?? Maybe?? He might have to look up this dragon cock thing ] Oh - fuck if we're doing video [ don't mind him ducking out of frame to grab the costume bits ]

[camarod]

Jesus, how is this my life -

[and look, listen, he's lying back to cackle while Eddie does his thing, accidentally knocks the camera a few inches right, just enough to see the very heft gift Eddie bestowed on him to read, with his little bookmark very, very close to the end. he's reading. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he dives back into frame - not wearing the little leather getup, it doesn't fit his measurements. He's not a fucking porn star, this will not fit. But he's got three sets of the outfit. One in tact, one slightly torn, and a third that's just in shreds. There are chains. ]

Check these pu- [ wait, hold on. His whole face lights up as he processes what he's seeing on frame. ] SHIT! B! You're devouring that thing - how do you - where are you -- wait, don't tell me.

[camarod]

Jesus, it's - [not a big deal, he wants to say. maybe it is. ] It's good. Don't ruin the fucking ending for me.

[he's sitting up, half way to reach to turn the phone back to him before he lies back down and rolls onto his side, squinting - ] Are those chains? [hm. there is a Thought. a curious little thought he is not going to entertain right now. ]

[heatmetal]

Oh, please. I would never sully the sanctity of the experience with spoilers.

[ but he looks so theilled. There's an extra bounce to his movements as he shifts back to the task at hand. ]

Chains. Got some wicked looking prop shackles around here somewhere... And check these bad boys!

[ give him a second to put on the wings. they're pitch black, shiny, as real as he can get on a modest budget. He looks so ridiculously pleased with himself. ]

[camarod]

Eddie, dude, I'm starting to think you just wanna tie me up for shits and giggles here.

[that thing he is ignoring sort of likes it. ] Oh - [but the wings. he's leaning closer, rolled onto his stomach to stare at them. ] Fuck - how the hell did you pull those off?

[heatmetal]

I am one of your paying customers, you know. Might as well put a little bit of what I like into the biz.

[ he's kidding... kind of. ]

Besides, it fits with the whole theme right? Lucifer was God's favorite until he rebelled, now he's in Hell ruling. Could take it as a punishment, but I much prefer to look at it as liberation.

[ and then he's positively beaming. clearly eager to show off this little trick. ]

Saw a tutorial on the internet. There's a little motor attached to a pipe - depending on which way the motor rolls, the wings extend or retract.

[ eddie munson may be in his sixth year of highschool, but one thing is certain - given the right motivation, there's nothing he can't actually do. ]

[camarod]

The fuck are you two even paying for, you don't get off on this shit like everyone else. [they don't watch, he means.

but, look, he's very interested in the wings. ] They might need a little work for videos - I guess if I'm on my front - [this is mostly to himself, a verbal mental note to consider later. ]

[heatmetal]

I like to support my friends.

[ financially. emotionally. you know, what friends do. except no you don't. neither you or steve know what actual fucking friends and its a sharp learning curve apparently. ]

I can play with the concept. Right now I'm thinking they're probably gonna be best for stills in a photoset. In videos... [ he rubs his chin, retracting them and moving to pull them off. ] They'd be most effective spreading to signal you're getting hot and bothered, or popping open during a money shot.

[camarod]

I gotta start writing this shit down.

[the logistics - ] On my knees sounds better. More room for them, better angles?

[heatmetal]

I got you.

[ he's grabbing a notebook, flipping it open to show off his very detailed notes. ]

Knees would work. I can play with it, see about adding a horizontal articulation point or two.

[camarod]

Oh, this is gonna be sick.

[He's beaming, feels a little exposed to be doing it on camera but, well, considering what they're talking about - ]

Knees, bent forward? I get the feeling they'd wanna see me beg, but shit's hard when you're going solo. Gotta be something in one of these boxes that'll do the trick.

[heatmetal]

That'd be good. You might be able to lean back, depending on what you're doing... Crouch, balancing on your feet. If you're fucking yourself on something that should give a good view... Might be able to rig it so they react to motion...

[ he almost offers. Mouth open, thoughtlessly ready to volunteer to help man the camera - but then thinks better of it, scratching the back of his head instead.

This is a little more than helping a friend replace a tire. Or busting in to the yearbook offices to replace a friend's photo. And he can take pictures and shit, that's all about angles and getting billy to seduce the camera, but recording video. Is like. Actual porn. ]

[camarod]

[it's such a weird feeling to desperately want to hear someone volunteer something and feel his insides recoil at the thought, simultaneously. he's just not sure he can keep that clinical distance, is the thing. that if he got himself off with eddie that close, watching, directing, that it might just become a little too real. a little too genuine.

he chews the inside of his cheek, pretends he's mulling it over. angles. ] I got those new cameras anyway - should be easy to edit that shit together.

[he hums, thoughtful. ] Can you drop the wings off? I gotta do a test run.

[heatmetal]

Yeah, no problem. You'll probably wanna test the fit on the rest of this too.

[camarod]

I owe you big time, E. Name it.

[heatmetal]

You're literally buying us a house, dude, I think you're in the clear.

[camarod]

[there’s a visible little pinch in his brow; a hesitation.]

Yeah, uh - [he mentioned a house isn’t the same as he said we should all live together.]

[heatmetal]

[ hmm.

He can make an educated guess what that expression is about. ]

Just hold on to how much you adore me, and remember this feeling when you have to pick up the random junk I'll be leaving around the house.

[camarod]

I don’t owe you that much.

[okay. okay. ] ‘Sides, I never said I was moving in.

[heatmetal]

Dude, come on. You're not gonna buy a whole house, chafing your dick in the process and maybe busting your asshole on a dragon dick, and not move in.

[camarod]

Dude, between you two going at it like you’ll never get laid again and me doing softcore in the next room, our neighbours are gonna think we’re freaks.

[ALSO - ]

And don’t talk about my dragon dick like that. He’s a gentleman.

[heatmetal]

I am a freak. And you and Steve are willingly keeping my company, ergo, you are also freaks.

[ tutting. ]

Gentleman won't leave you wrecked like he will.

[camarod]

Debauched freaks. The noise complaints, dude. Think of the noise complaints.

[sometimes he’s loud okay! and maybe he’s a little self conscious of that!! ]

Whatever. It’s a consensual wrecking. An all day wrecking, if you will.