amicustenebris | Duplicity

To start.

[ Carver drags his teeth against Gold's lip, then kisses him again. Hard, again. He wants to stay here. Not get lost in his own racing thoughts. ]

Strip tease is kinda lost on me, so you do whatever the fuck you want, Gold.

[ As if he could do such a thing.

That's a fleeting thought in the moment. This is also all he wants, he realizes -- to sink into this and think of nothing else. He's released long enough to open his eyes and see him, see himself.

And he wishes it was all darkness for him, too. One hand works at gently untethering his tie, buttons underneath. The other gently guides one of Carver's hands over to his shoulder, his collar. ]

...Then you'll just have to find other ways to watch, if that's something you want to do.

[ Hmm. That's different. Carver cocks his head like a dog, listening intently. But he smooths his fingers over the fabric, feeling the lines of Gold's shoulder underneath. Solid and strong. ]

I'm here, aren't I?

[ He doesn't grin and bear it for things like this. Not his style. Never has been, never will be. ]

To my continued amazement and confusion.

[ He finishes unbuttoning his vest and shrugs out of it. As he gets the first few buttons on his shirt undone, continues to unravel his tie, his hands also come back to Carver's to remind him where they are, what they are doing with soft brushes is passing. He doesn't limit where he wants to go, at least with the impression that he's patient, that he senses there are boundaries and isn't charging headlong past them. ]

You got issues, Gold.

[ The sorts of tics and pressure points that one day Carver might attack for real. Press on until something gives because they'll be enemies before the end. That much is inevitable. And if you give an enemy an advantage, they'll tear you down to size for daring. He's seen it. Dixon did it to Shaw, and Carver let him. That failure haunts him in this place. At night, when he can't sleep, he sees Pope face down on the rooftop. More than that, he sees the empty look on Shaw's face. The betrayal she'd felt, and how Carver hadn't protected her.

But that's not right here. Carver takes that thought and he puts it into a box in his mind, somewhere far away. He puts his hands where Gold guides them, his fingers twitching against the fabric of Gold's fancy shirt.

It's smooth to the touch. Soft. He curls his hand around Gold's shoulder. Not a tight hold, but a meaningful one. ]

You been thinking about me? Hmm?

I am aware.

[ Said on a mildly sour note. He doesn't need to be reminded, and while he feels well enough acknowledging as such here, like any other -- of course he hates to reveal such things. Being human. Having vulnerabilities. Can they be exploited? Yes. Does he have the power to avenge himself if that happens? Absolutely, and where he comes from, the threat of that is often enough to guard such things. But that doesn't make it any less unpleasant.

Carver does enough to draw his attention back to the present. Beneath fine cloth, still that same shiver -- difficult to say whether that had ever stopped. One hand unfastened most of the buttons remaining, and the other carefully guided Carver's to find the shoulder underneath.

He wants this, I don't know why, but I can do it. ]

I have.

[ Craver hums. Like before, he lets Gold take his hand. Guide him. He taps absently for a moment, then begins tracing out the lines of Gold's shoulder. Down to his collarbone, and then back.

It's slower than he cares for, than he wants right now, but it's something. ]

Then tell me.

[ Why are you expecting him to have any coherent thoughts right now? Gold pulls in for a fast kiss, the easiest way to communicate that he either cannot speak or won't for the moment, returning with matching force and weight, drawing a gently overwhelmed moan up his throat when the thrill catches him. ]

You really want words right now?

[ Carver snorts, grinning into the kiss. He drags his teeth against Gold’s lip just because he fucking can, because it’s an excuse to stay pressed against the man for a moment longer. But the sound Gold makes - yeah, that’s good. Carver wants to make him do that again. ]

Haven’t decided.

[ He doesn’t want to think. It has a tendency to get away from him. Carver puts his mouth on Gold’s throat before he can say that, before the words slip out. He doesn’t drag his teeth or suck a mark into the skin but he could. If Gold lets him. ]

I’m fickle like that.

[ Carver and his judicious use (and non-use, to remember back to their first dalliance) of his teeth was getting to be a problem, in that Gold was probably not going to get over that anytime soon. But it did give him something concrete that he definitely has thought about, more than once.

That's the trouble, though, other than the fact that telling him that he was worried about him in passing since he left would probably be a mood-killer: What thoughts is he supposed to have? Carver is not the first man he has been with, however brief that encounter was. He knows his role here but that doesn't match up with every impulse he has felt in his presence, does it? How does he explain that he's felt his body wanting but with no experience or real certainty what exactly he burned for?

His lips touch Gold's throat, and his head is empty again. There's a shiver there of uncertainty, like he expects teeth and the flesh is both preparing itself, accepting a king of inevitability that they are not present and that they may be all at once. All the same he tilts his head back, baring more flesh and drawing in a smoother breath. ]

Edited 2022-03-28 20:45 (UTC)

[ His thoughts keep bouncing, rattling through his skull like gunfire. It's hard to focus right up until it isn't anymore. He hates being blind, Carver thinks. He doesn't know how other people stand it. How much touch matters now. The weight of it all. Especially now, with how quiet Gold is.

One day they'll be enemies. But not just yet. Not here.

He draws back to kiss Gold on the jaw. A small gesture. Softer than he usually cares for. But then, this is all a little strange. ]

I'm not going to hurt you.

[ Said idly, even as Carver presses against him. ]

But I kept the razor. I think about that, sometimes.

[ The way that Carver is so readily reassuring in all of this, when this all began tonight because he was the one in dire straits -- it's not lost on Gold, who at the very least is reminding him to be wary of moments when he might require a softer hand. Not that he hasn't been very permissive, but the point is to make him feel better in his position, not in need of even more help.

The progress in undressing himself has clearly slowed, but for understandable reasons. And now one of Gold's hands seems a touch preoccupied looking for catches and buttons and zippers on Carver's own upper layers. ]

Keeping the razor? Or the way it was used?

[ Hmm. Gold's getting into it, a little. Fussing with Carver's coat, his hood. Carver tips his head back and shows him the clasps. Easy as you please, except for how he catches Gold's hand afterward and holds it for a moment, grinning as he presses a kiss to Gold's knuckles. Just because he fucking can.

His mood keeps swinging wild. It's strange. Sometimes he just gets like that. ]

I kept it because it was a good blade. That's not why I think about it.

[ A wholly unexpected gesture -- mainly because in his head it's not something a man does for another man. At least in his experience, of which he again acknowledges he has none. A blush that can't be seen, a shiver. And then he's brushing a thumb back over Carver's cheek.

Well, he hopes it's not only because he'll be due for another soon. ]

I'd like to hear why, then.

[ These things hit harder like this, when he can't see them coming. Carver shivers, fighting the urge to press into the touch. He twitches, but he doesn't push Gold away.

His mood keeps flipping. His thoughts running wild. But the way that Gold touches him is careful, and deliberate, and that helps. ]

'cause you didn't slice me up.

[ He closes his eyes and presses against Gold's hand. It just happens. ]

You got steady hands.

I have to.

[ Said with the same gentle breathiness that so much of his words are coming out with now, but matter-of-fact. His free hand puts aside enough of the front of Carver's shirt to satisfy him before he goes in for another kiss, and it's just there that they have another point of contact, skin to skin, and the thought of being bare doesn't trouble him. ]

I never break a deal, Mister Carver. That's as true a thing as my magic, itself.

You really, hah, don’t.

[ The only people in the whole goddamn ugly universe that Carver trusts are his team, his family. Everyone else is an enemy, or will be. It’s only a matter of time.

Yet, he let Gold put a blade to his neck. A transactional moment, at first. Until it swung almost violently real and he started losing himself. Speaking the names of the dead like counting rosary. He’d let Gold do it again, and that’s the worst part.

He reaches out again to trace the lines of Gold’s collarbone as they kiss. It feels good. This part, he doesn’t need sight for. ]

Funny thing is, I believe you.

[ He reaches out to cup Gold’s cheek in his hand. A softer gesture than before, more careful. ]

You want me to take you apart?

[ Gold keeps forgetting in the moment that Carver doesn't see him and hesitation will continually grab him. It's when the eyes meet but then don't quite focus.

He leans his cheek into the palm of his hand, shutting his eyes a moment to take in the warmth. His face is smooth and clean but shows no tactile signs of stubble, as though he grows no hair there at all, ever.

Not because he shaves regularly. Magic, now that he haves it. After Zelena he never wanted to see another razor again. But rather than let the beard grow out, he had to go the opposite way. Hair growing felt like a threat, like once it got too long, his space would be intruded upon. She or someone else would be back to 'take care of it,' so now it just doesn't grow at all, anywhere, save on the top of his head and his brows.

His mind is far away from that, near enough by now that it's really just that last step before they're practically in each other's laps, and whatever inevitabilities Carver is pondering, they don't matter now.

He feels himself nodding against his hand, leans his forehead against his. ]

...I do.

[ It's a small gesture, on balance. Most of them have been, in this place. As they both are. Carver exhales slow and lets it happen. They're close enough that he doesn't need to see. He can hear it when Gold's breathing changes. ]

Mhmm. Good.

[ He keeps one hand on Gold's cheek and presses the other to his chest. Just holding it there, for now. ]

I can do that.

[ There's a moment's pause, as he tries to figure what Carver is doing before he presses forward with anything else, but there's less worry of the things that would make this more awkward, at least to him. He isn't staring at him, for instance. But he might be learning him another way, and doing so by touch -- there is more want in that. It's something you have to actively choose to do.

He turns his face ever so slightly, the edges of his lips brushing the soft pad of the man's palm. ]

Following your lead, Mister Carver.

[ He taps his thumb against Gold's lip, listening intently. The moment keeps swinging on him, his thoughts slowing before they kick back up to bounce around his skull. Like a shot that ricochets, that comes to wreck the world because of your own goddamn carelessness.

It would be easy to swing careless here, wouldn't it? ]

The rest of your clothes. Help me with them.

[ A quickened breath, his fingers seem to jitter a little where they are. ]

I -- yes.

[ He works at unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt first. Careful, but the shiver, the hesitation is readable, even from just feeling him. ]

[ Gold goes to work. Carver listens intently, taking it in. He's never had to do this part blind before. But then, when has he ever backed down from a challenge? ]

You have anything you don't want, tell me now.

[ It comes out soft. He traces his thumb against Gold's lip again, then leans in to kiss him hard. ]

[ He addresses the last buttons on the shirt, the last rustles of cloth as he untucks it, and while the touch on his face had been distracting -- well, the kiss is something else entirely. The sighing moan that follows after as he melts against the other man.

As if he could have let a single thing he didn't want to enter his mind then.

When his mouth is released, it's a moment before his answer is just more than gulps of air, really. ]

I...I don't want pain.

[ His words come out slow, a little uncertain. It's much easier to form coherent words when he isn't worked up, when he's just focusing on someone else and their needs. ]

[ Yeah. That's a nice sound right there. Carver shifts to cup his hand to Gold's cheek and resolves to make him do that again. Might take some creativity, patience, but they're here. He wants to. ]

I won't hurt you.

[ Not with this, at least. There have to be lines, and Carver doesn't mix sex and violence. There'd be no going back from that, if he did.

He shifts his hand a little lower, slotting his thumb against Gold's pulse. Maybe Gold will let him, maybe he won't. ]

Maybe I just make you forget your name for a while. Return the favor.

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