amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ Carver sighs at the feel of Gold’s fingers carding through his hair, then getting a grip. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel. It hits him every time, a gesture that would be a threat in any other situation.

Here, it tethers him to the now.

He keeps one hand on Gold’s hip rubbing absent circles with his thumb. An easy touch, something grounding. He gives another stroke with the other, then leans forward and just takes Gold into his mouth. No preamble this time. It’s been a while since Carver’s done this, but it comes back easy enough. ]

Aah!

[ The fact that he doesn't clamp on harder is a testament to his patience, because he wasn't expecting Carver to move to it this quickly. The sudden wave of heat and wetness, immediately chased with something like humiliation -- there was zero control of his vocal cords in that moment, and immediately he is sucking in a breath to try to muster himself. ]

[ Yeah. That Got a reaction, all right. Carver hums a little, then draws back to catch his breath. His hand still steady on Gold’s hip. ]

Too much?

[ His free hand is technically what's keeping him upright at this point, planted firmly in the mattress so he can channel his tension somewhere without worry. When Carver lifts his head to address him, he cannot help but squirm as he opens his eyes, something in him a touch mortified, but just grateful he didn't beg him not to stop then and there.

Every sexual situation he has ever been in has involved him handling every detail, however self-sacrificing. It gives him a means to focus, to be that rock and allowing his partner to fall apart if they need to. He apparently crumbles very easily when he does not have that working to his advantage.

What a time to learn that about yourself. ]

I'm all right. ...Please go on. [ And forget that happened. ]

[ Caver gives him a thoughtful look, working Gold lightly with his hand. Some people don’t like all the attention on them. Can’t stand it. Reasons vary. ]

I can slow down.

[ No judgement. This feels nice, a warm feeling settling in his chest. Something like contentment. ]

Or keep doing this. [ He gives Gold a lick, to emphasize. ] Hmm? Like I said. I’m easy.

[ He doesn't hate it -- he would likely be a good deal more distressed if he did. Is he a little overwhelmed, however? Perhaps a smidge.

Learning that he is probably going to come off more vulnerable than he had anticipated? Well, he is going to have to accept that before he's in this situation with someone he doesn't trust.

Gold blinks as the thought occurs to him. He supposes right now? He does trust Carver.

He shudders as he bites back another gasping moan. The start of a smile at the corners of his mouth? Perhaps. ]

...It's...a lot. But please don't stop. I'm s-- [ He might have been about to apologize; he's not certain what for. ]

[ It seems best to take Gold at his word, so Carver does. Not for the first time, he thinks of that moment with the razor. How Gold has been steady even when Carver started to lose the thread. Only fair to return the favor, isn’t it?

So, he goes back to it. Keeps one hand steady on Gold’s hip and takes him in again. Slower this time, more deliberate. Always mindful of his teeth, but sometimes it feels good just to give in a little and focus on another person. When he draws back for breath, his voice is a little hoarse. ]

You wanna come, go ahead. Just not in my hair.

[ Anywhere else is fair game. He doesn’t like the mess in his hair, though. ]

[ While his reaction from there is a lot less sudden and startling, it's still not as withdrawn and controlled as he would personally like. There is little in the way of words, but sound -- when his sense comes back to him he'll have time to feel embarrassed that he wasn't quieter. Though maybe at one point some did come back, if only briefly; he clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself, the one in Carver's hair never harsh -- he seems just as much taken with the feel of him under his fingers now as he was before, stroking and quietly encouraging but also just grounded.

The fact that he manages to keep his hips still is nothing short of commendable, really. When he does arrive, he does manage to warn before hand. It is blinding and too much and too good, and everything else it needed to be. ]

[ The hand in his hair stays grounding, gentle, and Carver presses into it thoughtlessly as he works. There's something satisfying about this part, feeling another person come undone and knowing it was because of him. Gold's quiet about it, except where he isn't.

That's nice, too.

Carver groans, and swallows, and that's just that. He draws back, squeezing Gold's hip fondly, and bows his head so he can just takes a moment to catch his breath.

Goddamn. ]

[ For a moment, both of them are just taking in air, and Gold as thought returns might wrestle momentarily just getting a handle on what he should do. Whether, once the deed is done, any more is wanted, or would be rejected.

A favor for a favor. If it were kept there then where is the line drawn?

But finally, he decides what feels right has little to do with that. He leans in and plants a kiss on the man's temple. ]

[ Carver stays quiet, head bowed, and just gets his breathing under control. His throat is a little sore, but not too bad. It's been a while but it turns out this comes back quick. And the calm feeling just spreads, warm and welcome through his chest.

The gesture catches him by surprise, though. It's -

Tender. And he starts, eyes flicking to Gold uncertainly. Then Carver just exhales, and shifts to rest his head against Gold's hip. Just for a moment. ]

[ There's a hand, still stroking his hair.

Maybe it's strange, if you look at where this started. But by now they've both had chances to be awful to each other (had their throats bare, both literally and figuratively) that neither of them have taken. And for now, whether there is anything else after this -- he's already decided that when this man is in this apartment, in this room with him? He won't treat him like he doesn't have a place here.

And people who have a place, matter. ]

[ Gold just keeps on petting his hair, letting Carver slump against him, and it just -

Happens.

His breathing steadies, eventually. He doesn't ask if he can stay. Asking would mean getting an answer and that would cross too many lines. But he breathes, and he presses against Gold, and for a little while, things go quiet.

Carver doesn't touch people much these days. Has no cause to. He has a feeling Gold doesn't, either.

Eventually, he lifts his head. Watches Gold, and doesn't say a word. What is there to say, at this point? ]

[ Gold doesn't break off that contact, though his other hand is largely doing the subtle work of cleaning himself up, closing what needs to be closed, letting the air cool and dry the very slight sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. Their eyes meet, and it occurs to him then that perhaps is when at least one of them should have capacity enough to determine whether there is more to be done or if this is how they conclude.

The latter really isn't his style. ]

What can I get for you? [ A drink? A towel? ]

[ Carver leans into the touch. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just takes the contact for what it is. Something centering, and calm. ]

Water.

[ He ought to get his clothes back on, anyway. ]

Take a moment to relax, then. Please.

[ He takes his cane in hand again and stands, clothing already straightened when he opens one of the double doors and steps out. When he returns he sets a full glass on the nearest bedside table. He doesn't immediately approach again, beyond that, without clear body language that it's welcome. ]

[ Silently, Carver gets himself situated. He gets his clothes righted, replaces his knives. He's buckling his hood back on when Gold returns. Layers are good, layers are as close to proper armor as he gets these days.

He stands without a word and takes the glass from the bedside table. Drinks slowly. It feels good on his throat. ]

Thanks. For letting me cook.

Likewise.

[ He understands what a strange thing it is to complain about room service, but he is a simple man come from simple roots. ]

Empty time without good work to fill it is Hell. Having hands and nothing to make with them is the wrong way to be.

[ And the shock of appearing here and all that is placed on you at once? ]

This place is doing something deliberate, I think. When it brings someone here, Up or Down. For you, they are telling you that you can't be anything approaching a person unless you give over to someone else to make you that way. But up here -- they way they force idleness can have the same effect. It leaves them a passel of traumatized people with empty hands that will cling to the luxury because everything else seems far more difficult. It gives them free reign to decide for you, in your trauma, what should be in your hands instead.

I don't like that. I don't want it.

[ Hence why everything had to be made from scratch. Hence why everything that is intact now, was broken and then remade. ]

[ Carver lowers the glass slowly. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then: ]

I killed a woman before I got pulled in here. I killed a lot of people, but her -

[ His mouth twitches. Not a smile. ]

Her name was Josephine, I think. Just a kid, really. And I killed her because she was in front of me, because her people were in the way, because they had food and we needed it.

[ There's not much of anything in his voice then. He sets the glass back down. ]

This place isn't real. It's just a trick, a game someone's playing. I know what I am, Gold. I'm the same thing I've always been.

...Do not take this for criticism. If we're going to compare body counts, you have already lost simply because I have had far more time to make questionable decisions. I don't know your circumstances intimately, but I am no stranger to people who make otherwise terrible decisions out of desperation, and survival. Look where we are. So I would be the wrong person to think I made the wrong choice in accepting your offer to come here.

[ He whets his lips. ]

But I want you to think on this, and answer me: What made you decide to tell me that?

[ He just shrugs. It is what it is. He's got no remorse because he's got no room for it. The choice was simple. His people, or strangers, and his people will win every time. Not because of God or Pope, but because Carver and Shaw made choices.

Their family above all others. Everyone else can burn to ash. ]

I don't know.

[ Truth. Carver meets his gaze head on. ]

Got nobody else to tell.

[ Mood, Carver. That is a mood. ]

...I think that, whatever circumstances caused the two of us to meet, we are in agreement on a number of important things. So perhaps I am not in any hurry to rush you out the door just yet.

[ One of these days, they'll be enemies. It's as inevitable as gravity. One of these days, Gold will go for him or Carver will take a blade to Gold's throat and hang his corpse from a tree. Just how it swings.

These things happen. But not just yet.

He tips his head back. ]

Idle hands, Gold.

[ Can't have that. ]

What am I gonna do if I stay?

My first thought was time to rest, perhaps use a bath that's not communal.

[ You're jumping the gun a bit, is what he's saying. But since you brought it up. ]

...As for anything else, or any future...whatever. You are under no obligation to do anything you do not wish to do. [ Myself included. ] Not from me.

[ Carver gives him a long, silent look. He almost asks if Gold wants to go for round two, whatever, when in Rome and all that shit. Not like it'd be a hardship. It's just what people do around here, and these moments are easier when they're transactional.

He doesn't, though. Just tips his head back and waits for a catch that doesn't come. ]

Okay. Where's your shower?

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