amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ It was all Gold could do not to drop his own fork, really, or the bowl he was holding, and just set them down. Like it was a question he expected to be asked eventually, with tension, and was all the while uncertain how he would answer.

He remembers the conversation on the network, and that he had been careful in how he worded his answer to his proposition -- the direct one. Not the offer that came before. He didn't technically require this in exchange for a meal.

However, when Carver said he would provide if needed and asked for, he had said he could do the same, and there was every possibility that the man was looking at the same deadline he was.

And that mattered.

Maybe the slightest bit of color touched his face. ]

I do not want you to feel obligated.

[ Leave alone that if the man came out just then and said that Gold, himself, was obligated, he would probably set him on fire.

He rewords. ]

...I don't -- [ He shuts his eyes. ] -- make a habit of taking that sort of thing from people that don't want it. [ Or me. ]

[ Thing is, none of this feels casual to Carver. Before he got thrown into this place, he hadn’t been with anyone in years. Sometimes he’d lie down next to Fisher or Shaw in the dark, or reach out to clap his hand to their shoulder, hold them when they were injured, but the rest -

That died when the world fell. He had someone once, more than a decade ago, and that was good and real but he fucked it up. Chose his family, like how he always chooses his family. And then this place happened.

Carver tips his head back. ]

No one forces me.

[ No one. ]

You wouldn’t be taking anything from me.

Edited 2022-03-12 17:38 (UTC)

I believe you.

[ He makes a point to look at him when he says that. ]

It's still not something I'm accustomed to offering or being offered as something...owed.

[ Even when he was with his first wife, when things started to go bad, it wasn't as though he behaved as though he were entitled to anything from her. Sometimes she came to him and seemed confused, if not insulted it he was slow to respond. And maybe sometimes he took care of her out of some...obligation. To apologize for being less. Maybe hoping she would remember she loved him.

That was also centuries ago. ]

And I'd be lying if I didn't say there is something about you. But this is new territory for me.

[ Carver watches Gold for a long, silent moment. Uncomfortably, he remembers how it felt to be with Riley. That was a long time ago, ended even before the world fell, but he thinks about it sometimes. How it felt to have Riley sleeping next to him at night, when they were out of the Army and no one gave a shit what they did. His people knew - must have known - but no one said the words. And no one gave him shit when Riley finally got tired of dealing white Carver's shit and kicked him out.

These things happen. Kind of like how this is happening. ]

It's just a moment.

[ Nothing more, nothing less. Or he'd like it to be that way, anyhow. ]

You don't want to, then we won't.

[ He swallows. ]

It doesn't matter if I --

[ He's not going to finish that. He knows how it sounds, especially given what he just said. ]

[ Carver tips his head to the side. ]

I don’t force people, either.

[ Not with this. Never with this. He’ll take a knife and render a stranger into pieces if it means getting information his people need, but there are always lines.

There have to be. ]

You want me?

[ He tips his head back. The tattoo stark on his throat. ]

Maybe I want out of my head for a bit.

[ He either doesn't have the words to spit out what's holding him back, or he just won't. But that last part -- that he can respond to. That's easy. Like with the razor, once he gathered himself. ]

I can do that.

[ Carver watches Gold, then nods just once. Sometimes there’s satisfaction in making another person feel good. Sometimes it quiets the noise in his head. Slows him down long enough to remember how it feels to breath and exist at a slower tempo. Not often, but sometimes. He doesn’t like giving up control, knows he was riding the edge of panic last time with the razor - strange and sick, and murmuring the names of the dead like a prayer - but in the aftermath, things went slow.

And pieces of that felt good. He thought about it for a long time afterward. He’s thinking about it now. ]

Then do it.

[ Gold rose, then. His approach can't really be taken for imperious, really. But it helps, to order it this way in his head: he's not settled on everything and he probably can't be -- but he can take care of Carver. And he already knows he gives enough of a damn to do that much.

He doesn't need to be wanted for that. Just not unwanted enough not to have permission.

They'd probably have to move elsewhere, but he knew he would lose his nerve again on the way to doing that, if he waited.

So he leaned down to kiss him. ]

[ Carver stays where he is, watching Gold. Waiting to see what he does. Always the chance this could turn sideways, turn into a threat - there's always that chance with someone outside of his family - but Carver doesn't flinch. He's good at that part. Whatever comes, he's got practice at enduring.

Only thing is, it doesn't hurt at all.

Carver goes still when Gold kisses him. Surprised, more than anything. His breath catches a little, then he tips his head back and presses into it. Kisses him back, dragging his teeth against Gold's lip. Promise enough, he thinks. He wants. And maybe it'll finally quiet his head for a while.

That's worth something. ]

[ A cold rush jolts through him when Carver presses back, an instant of motionlessness when he feels his teeth but not the bearing down -- reading a clear okay to continue rather than a warning to back off, and so he does. Lips part, he tastes gently, a hand coming up, fingers brushing the line of his jaw. ]

[ It's a light touch, ghosting along his jawline. Not for the first time, he thinks about the razor. It won't be the last time, Carver thinks. That's been written into the DNA of the moment. Not the sort of thing anyone can shake easily.

There's less tension this time. No overt threat. Just a moment, and Gold's hand on his jaw.

Carver presses into it, almost unthinkingly. It feels good, and people don't touch him often. Not unless they're trying to kill him. He watches Gold the whole time, strangely calm. It might not last. His moods have a tendency to swing wide, and wild. But for now, his heart rate is steady, and his gaze is calm when he leans in so he can kiss Gold back. Harder this time, encouraging. ]

[ He does his best not to show his inexperience. He closes his eyes and just doesn't think about it, that he hasn't kissed another man in over thirty years.

It's reciprocation here, that he didn't plan for. There's a moment where he freezes in place, shudders, and his free hand flattens on the table to hold his balance (cane left to lean against it). The ghost of a sound escapes that at any other time he might have hated. ]

[ That’s an interesting reaction. Telling, maybe. Carver reaches out to catch Gold’s hand, slotting his thumb against the pulse point. An easy hold to break, if it comes to that. But real.

He drags his teeth against Gold’s lip again. A little harder this time, so he’ll feel it when Carver draws back. So it’ll echo. ]

Yeah?

[ It comes out rough, his gaze searching. ]

[ His eyes open when he pulls back for a breath, and the brush of the other man's teeth sets a fresh bloom in his cheeks.

The answer, clearly, is yes.

For just a second, there's no air, and he resists the urge to go far, or fully straighten up. ]

...We should move.

[ And not just because he can't stand like this for very long. ]

[ Yeah. They should. Carver rises to his full height in a fluid, silent motion. His hand still curled around Gold’s wrist.

An easy hold. Gold hasn’t tried to break it.

Carver leans in to kiss him one more time, humming. Low and pleased. It doesn’t have to do a thing except feel good. ]

Show me.

[ Wherever Gold wants to go, Carver thinks he’ll follow. ]

[ Gold hasn't pulled his hand free, yet; already settled enough with that little bit of contact that he is hesitant to break it.

The kiss -- it has been a very, very long time since anything happened that made him feel like melting. The difference now, that wasn't there in the one before: Carver initiated.

Gold had started to say before. It didn't matter if he himself wanted him, if the feeling wasn't in some way returned.

And it felt devastatingly warm, reassuring in a way that he knew he could quickly become obsessed with, to feel wanted and for that to not feel like something that was threatening.

His knees very nearly quit under him, and he has to grab his cane with his free hand and straighten up. A shaking breath as he nods, leading by the wrist Carver is holding. ]

This way.

[ Through the double doors at the back of the dining room is the master -- he might have steered toward the living or media room if either were closer, but he also knew the people who ran this place also stocked the bedrooms, which felt safer. ]

[ Yeah. That's a fun reaction right there, the way that Gold's breath catches. Carver tips his head back, committing it to memory. He doesn't do this with many people. Wouldn't have done it back home. There would have been no room for it in his life. Yet it's happening here.

So it goes.

Carver follows easily, and silently. He's flexible enough with these things - or used to be, in the days he still hooked up with people casually. There wasn't much he didn't try with Riley, anyway. Gold hasn't given much indication as to what he likes, what he might want.

Well. They'll get to that.

He doesn't let go of Gold's wrist. A loose hold, easily broken, but it feels meaningful here. So he keeps it, for now. ]

[ As if Gold would have any answers if asked. But that's not what he's trying to think about anyway.

He turns to Carver and has to rise up a little to catch his mouth again; all the ways in which that felt like a more inviting option than finding something to say? Innumerable. Here he feels comfortable enough to pull him nearer, here.

He knows he has to focus. See to the person that's with him -- but he can have another moment just wanting. ]

[ It's strange to be kissed after so many years of never touching anyone, of thinking that was done and over with. He had dreams about Riley, sometimes. A few abortive, fumbling encounters with strangers that left him feeling aching and hollow afterward. And then this place, and all its myriad rules. How it shoves people into rooms and expects them to fuck. Sometimes there isn't much of a choice.

This is a choice, though. This is just the two of them, being human. Carver doubts it'll last. Everyone becomes an enemy in the end. But in the meantime, he presses into it. Lets Gold kiss him and hums into it, low and pleased.

It feels nice. Maybe it can just feel nice for a little while.

He squeezes Gold's wrist briefly. ]

What'd you want?

[ Carver cocks his head, watching him. ]

You know?

[ The squeeze brings him back to the present, initially taking it as a signal to back off, but again Carver doesn't let go.

What does he want? He isn't entirely sure, besides this.

Gold shakes his head. ]

I'd rather see to what you want.

[ He reaches with the hand being held, partly to see if he'll allow it, brushing a thumb over his cheek. ]

[ Carver blinks, a little uncertain, but Gold's hand is gentle on his cheek and he presses into it without thinking. People don't touch him much. Why would they? ]

I'm not gonna break.

[ He doesn't flinch easily. He never has. And this feels good. ]

You don't have to be so careful.

[ Part of him wants that, though. The gentleness. But you don't ask for that. People start wondering, if you ask for that. ]

[ If Gold recognizes that in him, the way that he leans into that touch so quickly, that split-second of unbelieving that comes before it's there and it's held onto, it is only because he knows that feeling all too well himself. Even if he never had a word for it. And here in this space, he feels an immediate duty to not be the reason that his partner is without. ]

And you don't have to worry about that. Not here.

[ He moves his hand to shift the hold between them, laying his palm in his, adjusting his balance to guide him back toward the bed and sit.

At this point there isn't so much of a plan, just to follow what seems to feel right, and it has been a very long time since being this close felt like that. ]

[ Strange thing is, Carver believes him. People can't be trusted - will always swing over the line to enemies before the end - but he believes this man, in this moment. He swallows hard, then nods.

Just once.

He sits down on the edge of the bed without hesitation, just watching Gold. Waiting to see what he'll do next. ]

[ When he's seated, he's even more at ease, at less of a risk that he's going to put his weight on the wrong foot and drop. But it helps him to keep his focus where it needs to be, fingers trading the softer pad of his palm between the thumb and forefinger.

Another kiss, this time not pressing as far, more reminding himself to relax, where they are. When he withdraws enough to speak, the question is gentle as everything else, but deliberate and carefully worded.

It hasn't escaped his notice that Carver hasn't shed a single layer since he came in, even though doing so might have made getting around the kitchen less cumbersome. ]

Do you want to get any of this out of the way?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject