amicustenebris | Duplicity

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.

[ If these meetings have managed to do anything, it's take his mind off things. He dives into all tasks singlemindedly, broken down to their base forms, and lets his thoughts go away; there is nothing else. That's how it's always been.

This, what Carver is purring at him, is very different, and he knows it is because he feels far less like he's on solid ground. What's more, he's having to leave it to someone else to feel the ground for him.

He doesn't pull away from any touch, but he does feel unbalanced, uncertain, but abuzz with energy. He's untethered, and he wants that. He wants to go, at least mentally, as far as he can from here, from her, from the last year of his life, and if that is where Carver is going, he will gladly let him take him there. ]

...Yes.

Mhmm. Good.

[ It's strange doing this blind. Not something he would have done by choice. And yet. He taps his thumb against Gold's neck and then lays his other hand flat on Gold's chest. Holding it there for a moment before sliding him down, just to hear what he does next. ]

You're still wearing too many clothes.

[ Gold nods, and there's a moment where he worries that is missed, until he's certain Carver would have at least felt it. He said 'the rest,' he tells himself, even as he feels himself start to comply -- for the immediate moment.

The next, freezes. There's a second or two where there's no movement from him at all, until finally he pulls in a shaking breath, and that seems to bring him back to shuddering life. His fingers fumble. ]

[ Carver doesn't offer to help with this part. He can't see it, but he can hear the shifting fabric, the way that Gold's breathing changes, and that's good enough for now. He runs his hands up and down Gold's sides, in the meantime. Silent encouragement. Whatever this thing is, it's happening. ]

[ Gold doesn't really know what to do with himself once there's not much left to hide behind. Clothing is something he uses to construct himself, it says a lot of his character, even conveys thinks he might find more worth in, more attractiveness than he thinks he carries on his own. So when he is without, with none of his usual defenses, of course he's still a moment, even hesitant, but also arrested in the heat of anticipation and helpless want, always brought back to the moment and reminded by the feel of Carver's hands. ]

I... [ He bites his lip. ]

[ Carver cants his head, listening with a great intensity. But the grip he keeps on Gold's hips is gentle, in its way, and far more careful. ]

What?

[ He shakes his head to clear it. ]

The less thinking I do for the moment, the better.

[ His fingers ghost over the tops of the hands on him, trail up to Carver's shoulders. ]

[ Carver spreads his fingers wide, dragging them up Gold's sides and then back down again. He doesn't dig his nails in. It's not that sort of moment. ]

Okay.

[ He understands the sentiment just fine. And so he leans in to kiss Gold on the mouth again, even as he trails his hand down Gold's side again. Over his ribs and then his hip and then lower, to grope him. Because why the fuck not? ]

Mmh -- [ It doesn't startle him like he thought -- part of him worried that it would -- It presses him closer to him, and there is no hiding that his interest, in the moment, has more than begun to awaken. But it also gives him something of an accuse to hide in the other man, to seek warmth, to drown out each treacherous sound that bubbles up. ]

[ Yeah, okay. Being blind sucks and Carver thinks he'd rather kill a thousand men before he does it again, but this? This, he can work with. The way that Gold presses closer and reacts, yeah.

Yeah, he can work with this.

Carver thumps his forehead against Gold's, some rough camaraderie, and just keeps touching him. He's got strong hands, he knows what he's doing. Doesn't seem like Gold minds his calluses, either. ]

You can let go, you know. Just this once.

A more difficult prospect than most.

[ But then, Carver has bent to him more than once now, with no small amount of hesitation. At the very least, Gold cannot accuse him of not understanding on some level.

He doesn't move to dislodge or block his hands. Though very different from his own, it comes down to how touch-starved they both are, really. How overpowering and intoxicating it is to be feel someone else who wants to be there. Everything his fingers can find is part of something that feels...far and away from other people, even the self.

Neglected. Gold doesn't like that word. It doesn't feel right directed at himself, because he never fooled himself into thinking he was missing something he had a right to.

He doesn't part from him, the foreheads still in contact, something akin to a nuzzle as he savors him, the moment. His hands brush into his hair, drawing in a slow sigh. ]

How does one even begin?

You breathe.

[ Seems like a good first step. Not always an easy proposition. But here, it's something. Carver leans into the hand Gold runs through his hair, closing his eyes. It feels good, and Carver's beyond pretending this isn't happening, that Gold doesn't know him on some level now.

He draws back just long enough to spit in his hand - crude, but effective - and get back to it. Working him slow, to start. So he can hear all the ways Gold reacts. ]

So I hear, anyway.

[ Gold doesn't interrupt him, knowing the impulse that suddenly arrests him, tenses him up, and he knows even just to interject to say he has lube, he will sound like he's panicking. He might even be, just a little. There's a deep gasp, the barest remains of some sound in him on the end of it.

Of course he isn't as surprised as he could have been, this is nothing far away from what he did with Carver before -- just receiving, now. There's something like exhilaration, relief, a precipice crossed that he might have hesitated to go over himself. ]

Oh...

[ Hands caress, through Carver's hair, along his shoulder. He kisses his temple, shuddering. He can do this. He's here with him. ]

[ It’s a small gesture, the way that Gold kisses his temple. Carver takes a slow breath and resolves not to think about it. This is just happening. And all the while, Carver keeps working him. Never once letting up. ]

There you go.

[ Low, and satisfied. Now they’re getting somewhere. ]

How many times can I make you come, you think?

[ They should find out. ]

[ His face hides in Carver's shoulder, muffling a sound that would have escaped him a touch too boisterously. Grasping, channeling as much tension as he can away from there, and trying with all his might not to let his hips do more than twitch. ]

Oh, Gods...

[ Uttered with a kind of tired acceptance. Because he with full honesty has no idea, and is all but surrendered to the notion that they will know before long, and it's all he can do not to grind against him. ]

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