amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ The shiver that runs up the whole of his frame, then, audibly catches his breath. He sets down what he has in his hands then, taking his cane back up. There's a moment's hesitation, weighing whether that had been meant to be a bluff or if he would follow through.

In the end he is standing before him, looking down. (He will only ever have so many opportunities to tower, after all.) But he is absolutely certain to take a breath before he tries to speak. ]

Well?

[ Got you, Carver thinks, viciously triumphant. Got you, I fucking got you. And Gold closes the distance between them. Comes to stand in front of him, close enough that Carver doesn't need to see to know where he is.

Carver bares his teeth in a wide grin. Part of him feels manic. ]

I knew you'd work up to it.

[ He sets the cane aside. And then he goes down onto his knees, because why the fuck not? He has a feeling it'll get Gold flustered. That feels a bit like winning, that thought. ]

I kept the razor, you know.

[ Conversational. The grin he flashes up at Gold is anything but, and neither is the hand he reaches out, uncertain a moment before he finds Gold's arm. An anchor point. ]

[ Gold freezes in place when he moves, watching him breathless a moment, but he masters himself, takes one.

What am I doing? He thinks.

But another half doesn't care, just wants to see where this goes.

He reaches to catch the hand on him. ]

'Nerve' for you ends on your knees, does it?

[ Carver can't see the eyebrow raise. But it's definitely in his voice. ]

You have no idea where my nerve ends, Gold. Don't ever think you do.

[ But this? This, Carver's pretty sure, will worm its way under Gold's skin just fine. And Carver liked hearing him come apart last time, even if it was only briefly. Even if it was only in small ways. ]

You think this is about me enduring you, or something. You're a little fucked up like that.

[ His tone his conversational. But there's something sharp in his expression, unfocused as it is. Almost brittle. ]

You can't hurt me, Gold. You couldn't if you tried and that's not what this is about. Mostly, I wanna hear you lose it. And then I want you to keep me out of my head for a good long time. But I think we'll go with the first one, hmm?

[ There's a number of pressure points Carver seems to hit all at once, and honestly he moves to the next and the next too quickly for Gold to fully react.

you think this is about me enduring you

It is, isn't it? But there isn't even a moment to really think on that; there's but a start in his pulse, in the momentary tense of his muscles, perhaps an instant of some desire to argue with the observation that immediately follows.

But then there's more following.

you can't hurt me.

And the thing was that he could. He had spent hours already unraveling every vulnerable spot he could find. He just had no desire to hurt him that way. Or anyone really.

And again, nothing that he can fully process before the last hits him like a ton of bricks. I wanna hear you lose it. And for an instant his knees feel weaker. Even as half of him is insisting Why? for at least the moment, being wanted wins over, and he can't move.

His breath trembles in his throat.

Why? Why? Why? ]

...Try.

[ It's a brutal sort of triumph, to know he's pushed and pushed and pushed, and finally gotten a reaction. I got you, he thinks viscously, I fucking got under your skin, I won.

Try, Gold says, and Carver doesn't care whether that's a challenge or not. He treats it as one. He always does, when he gets like this. His thoughts wild and vicious unless he has something to focus on. And he's already down on his knees. Most people think that's a sign of weakness, defeat. His enemies certainly do.

Let them. It only makes victory that much sweeter when he finally tears them apart. ]

Since you asked so nice, [ he drawls, all bite and venom, and this time he doesn't bother going slow. He just puts his hands on Gold's hips and squeezes hard. ] Since you're fucking here.

[ Just where Carver wanted him. ]

[ Gold almost drops his cane when he's grabbed, but he doesn't pull back or retreat. There is always the underlying self-assurance, that he can stop whatever happens here if he has to. But that he doesn't -- that's part of the rush, he knows, part of what makes his stomach drop. Something approaching risk that he still has control over. Somewhere between the feel of jumping and falling.

His fingers gingerly felt at a hand on him. He swallows hard.

Then that last hit -- strikes something it's probably not supposed to. He goes a little more rigid. ]

Since I'm here.

[ He can't see what expression Gold's wearing now - can't see anything but shadows - but the way he swallows is clear enough. As is the way that Gold touches Carver's hand and doesn't shove him away. Not even when he stiffens, and Carver bares his teeth in a vicious grin.

Good. Good. It's been too goddamn long since he's fought anyone. And even if this doesn't end that way, it still feels like something that can be won.

He's a little fucked in the head, Carver thinks absently. He wasn't always like this. But these things happen. ]

Know what you want? Or should I guess?

[ He drags his hands up Gold's sides, digging his nails in a little, and then back down to rest on his hips. Maybe Gold had a point about other senses getting heightened when you lose one - this feels pretty goddamn good. He wonders if it'll mess up the lines of Gold's nice clothes. He wonders if that counts as winning, somehow. ]

[ He shuts his eyes, and the hand on Carver's goes tight when it comes back down to his hip. ]

Stop.

[ He wets his lips. Commands his heart to stop beating so fast, and its thundering begins to gradually recede behind a sudden wave of anxiety. ]

Just...a moment. Before you go any further.

[ Carver stills. There are lines, with this sort of thing. Even when it feels like his skull is going to crack apart under the weight of all his thoughts that he can't fucking slow or force into silence, there are lines.

So, he stops. And he waits, his eyes focused on nothing. ]

[ Gold knows if he opens his eyes, it's not like Carver could see anything in them in this moment. That his looking and further engaging with the moment would only change something on HIS side, and he wouldn't be betraying any more vulnerability that his own words didn't. And yet he still can't do it. ]

...Tell me it's not just that. I don't care of it's a lie.

[ Frown. ]

I don't need you to make any vows. I don't need you to tell me you love me. None of that. But don't say it's because I'm here.

[ Because now that he's said it out loud, he won't be able to do anything else if that's in his head the whole time. ]

[ Oh, Carver thinks, and even with his thoughts running vicious and manic, there's a part of him that calculates. That tucks that information away for consideration later, for when he's calm enough to know what to do with it. Sometimes there are only split-second calculations. Sometimes, you just have to roll with things.

He tips his head back. He can't meet Gold's eyes. Has no idea whether the man's even looking at him. But it bares his throat just the same and that's either a threat or a promise, and even Carver can't decide which one he's swung toward.

It's that sort of moment. Changeable. ]

It's not.

[ This part, at least, isn't a lie. ]

It's because you're the one who came when I was hurt.

[ Carver snorts. Bitter laughter. ]

Do whatever you want with that.

[ With that answer, and that invitation, Gold does do what he immediately wants with that.

As much as this place seems to want it from him, he can't just be with people because they're convenient. Because they're there. Because it's so ubiquitous to so many here that there are few they would say no to. And because he can't wrap his mind around that logic, or pretend to -- as unwanted as he often feels? He can't function if he is just there for them, either. Because unexceptional is just as bad as unwanted, and he's going to drown in this place if he's alone in that feeling. He knows it.

So for a moment, he isn't, and everything falls away.

He leans down and grasps Carver's shoulder, pulling him up into a kiss. ]

[ That's real, anyway. Carver hisses, going where Gold guides him, and kisses him back hard. Shifts to put a hand on Gold's arm just to have a way to anchor himself, to center himself in the middle of all the shadows he's currently fielding, and drags his teeth against Gold's lip. More of an edge, this time.

Good enough. ]

Yeah. You're not shy at all, are you?

As if anyone would dare call me that to my face.

[ Which isn't necessarily a denial.

Carver couldn't see the way Gold's gaze shifted away, or how his chin fell. And there's a momentary stumble before he rights himself, bent at not quite the right angle, where the foot of his cane slid instead of finding purchase, and his ankle threatened to buckle. He recovers, beginning to maneuver back toward the couch, but he stops just short of sitting. ]

[ It's not impossible to navigate like this. Maybe if he had time, if he had the chance to practice, then Carver would be able to do it like second nature. Blind people did this shit all the time, didn't they? But for now it's easier just to follow Gold, move with him, even if that means doing it a little slower.

Carver stills, his hand tight on Gold's arm. ]

Here?

[ Low, hissed against Gold's mouth. It's a big couch, they'd have space. But there's also a bed and that might be fun, too. ]

[ There's a twitch of a smile on his lips. If Carver had not asked and just directed instead, he might have followed. But this...it kept his pulse from hammering too hard, an ebb in what might otherwise feel like a torrent of crashing waves. ]

That depends entirely on how far you're planning ahead right now.

[ They could move later, or if he needed something, he could potentially summon it. But for now as wildly as his imagination might be running, he doubts it will escalate that much.

But he does need to sit, either way. ]

Bold of you to assume I planned any of this.

[ He didn't. It's just happening. But he's good at improvising. Has to be. That's one of the rules. You roll with what's in front of you. Carver leans forward and kisses him hard, just to fucking do it. They're here, and Gold hasn't pushed him away, so he rolls with it.

And he's not really sure where anything else is right now. So. ]

A likely story.

[ Just a little tease before he finally sits down and tugs him close again to cover any immediate rebuttal, drawing the other man's hands back to him, around him. ]

[ Carver snorts. Sometimes he just does things and they either blow up in his face or they don't. Either way, he survives them. Just how it is. And so he's doing this, and it both means something and it means very little and he isn't going to think about that like a contradiction because he doesn't want to think at all.

It just is. So he sits down next to Gold, and puts his hands on Gold's arms to anchor himself. And kisses him again, just as hard as before.

Feels like the thing to do, so he does it. Don't need sight for that. ]

[ Once both of his hands are free, Gold does not hesitate to use them. A memory of a different night, fingers brushing through Carver's hair, another brushing over his knee. ]

...I believe, that you asked me to tell you what I wanted, or for you to guess.

[ And he kind of wants him to. As though he were the blind one, hearing Carver speak seems to be what's carrying every rush right now. ]

[ That shouldn't feel as nice as it does. He shouldn't press into it so readily, so hungrily. But he does, and Carver shivers a little at the feel of Gold's fingers carding through his hair.

Don't think about that. Press forward.

He tightens his grip on Gold's arms, then loosens it. Rubs up and down and leans in to kiss him again. Thoroughly. ]

I did.

[ He drags his teeth against Gold's lip. ]

And I'm guessing you want to take me apart while you don't muss those nice clothes once. You always seemed like the type. Hmm?

[ He grins. He wants the challenge of making Gold lose his cool. He thinks he's wanted that for a while. ]

Am I wrong?

[ There's still a lot to read from him, without being able to see, in just hearing the tremor in every breath he takes in, the shudder that runs through him when their lips part, when teeth graze. He's not wound as tight as he was that first night. Perhaps not yet. But could be driven on his way in due time, certainly.

All of it might be enough to leave Carver thinking that he was on exactly the track he thinks he is. But for the one time he handed Carver the reigns to "return the favor" he has certainly presented that image. Well put together. Controlled. Thorough. A fairly complete profile could be put together from that.

And then ]

...You are.

[ Hmm. Not what he expected to hear. Carver can't see to read Gold's expression, but there are other ways. He's getting better at it, he thinks. Knowing what to pay attention to.

He knocks their foreheads together. Not hard. ]

Then enlighten me.

It can be that, and it has been, when... when that's all there is.

[ When it's just him, taking care of someone else, and then he disappears from the picture.

The warmth in that added connection was everything, he seemed to relax at least a little against him.

Control with a partner is a careful thing; it is easy for him to assume. Familiar. Expected of him in some respects. But it's also what he does when he is with someone for whom he has to earn his right to be there. ]

This feels new. [ In so many ways. ] And I don't fully understand all the ways I want you, but I do.

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