amicustenebris | Duplicity

So I see.

[ And he doesn't retreat when drawn nearer, mostly chest to chest at this point, but any closer and he's going to be in the man's lap, which was not how he planned his approach here -- for as little planning as there was. The kiss this time doesn't linger for as long, an assurance, but then it trails, against the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw.

Soft, fleeting little tastes.

Small ventures as he feels for every shift he can, hear every sound, be certain he is advancing in the right direction, and not with too much haste. ]

[ Carver hums, low and pleased, and leaves his hand on Gold’s arm for now. A loose hold, but an anchoring one. It feels easier than the last time, when there was a blade involved. When Carver bared his throat to a stranger and called it at least half a choice. That hadn’t been about trust - except for the pieces where it had been. But it happened, and Gold never once cut him.

Could have. Didn’t. These things happen.

He spreads his legs a little, so there’s more room. So Gold can settle there without climbing on top of him. Nice and easy, for now. Carver feels himself going loose, tension draining away. A rare thing, for him. He doubts it’ll last. But for the moment, he tips his head back - ignoring how it bares his throat and the hateful line tattooed there - and just lets himself feel.

It can be good. For a little while. He gives Gold’s arm another squeeze and then begins trailing his fingers again, ghosting over Gold’s chest. Light touches, for now. He figures there are boundaries. That’s all right. He knows how to pay attention. ]</small€

[ Gold's immediate reaction isn't one of alarm -- Carver has done well to feel around for boundaries rather than blunder carelessly over them, so when a hand brushes over his chest, his immediate realization is that he is feeling more constricted than he first thought; his free hand comes up to begin to loosen his tie.

But he doesn't allow that to distract him.

Once it's clear that Carver doesn't think he's going to tear his throat out or worse, he takes that as opening to move down further, his lips finding where his neck and his shoulder meet. ]

[ All right. Maybe Gold won't stay in his clothes the whole time. Carver's breath hitches a little as Gold moves in closer, trailing down, but he doesn't flinch. It's a light touch. Won't even leave a mark.

Carver hums a little, nodding. ]

Feels good.

[ It does, somewhat to his surprise. It's slow. He's calm. Novel things, in his life. ]

[ A short glance up, to try and read his expression. ]

That is the idea.

[ And he lingers there for a moment, taking a moment to appreciate the shape of him, but his hands do not venture anywhere that he hasn't already revealed. ]

Do you want me to go on?

[ Smartass. Carver’s mouth twitches a little, a faint smile ghosting across his face. He watches Gold, thoughtful.

It’s strange, to be this calm. There’s a part of him that wants to take advantage before it inevitably swings, because it always does before the end. But that would mean rushing, and he doesn’t want to. Not here, not with this man. ]

Yeah.

[ In this sort of mood, he doubts there’s much he wouldn’t let Gold do. Carver watches him for another moment, then leans forward to kiss him again. A little harder this time, dragging his teeth. ]

[ And he's suddenly drawn back up again, and there is a noise of mild surprise and pleasure. He brushes the backs of his fingers over Carver's cheek, something unplanned for, a spark of tenderness that rose with him. For the time being, he was simply in the moment, fully present, and something approaching content.

Nearer than he had been in a long time.

He drew back, just enough to speak, smiling against the other man's lips. ]

You are very distracting.

[ Oh, that's a nice sound. Carver leans into the touch thoughtlessly, chasing it. He doesn't do this anymore, this - slowness.

Except that he is, apparently.

He grins against Gold's mouth. ]

Yeah, I know. Gonna do something about it?

I suppose I ought to.

[ Before Carver does something first and then he's too empty headed to be of use to anyone else.

He ventures a touch, trailing a palm down along the man's inner thigh, trailing along the feel of warm muscular flesh somewhere beneath fabric. He would have considered this a little forward, but he's taking the man at his word that he can go on -- and testing, in a way. If this is too much, too quickly, he can trust he'll hear as much. ]

[ That's nice, too. Carver tips his head back, breathing out slow, and grins again. He doesn't mind. It feels good. A promise of other things, more to come.

He trails his fingers along Gold's arm again, nodding. He doesn't flinch. He said he wouldn't. ]

[ It has been long enough since the last time Gold did this (with intent -- and without it just being a story in a book) that he might be overthinking his process right now; in spite of the heat rising in his cheeks or the steady but slow rush of it further south, when he is focused he barely notices, and already his mind is a checklist of tasks, steps to take to look after the person he is with.

With a clear sign that he hasn't gone a step too far, he continues his advance, trailing exploring kisses from his lips, back to his jaw and down his neck again. Fingers spread wide as he flattens his palm into a slow, more pressing stroke. ]

[ Not for the first time, Carver thinks about the razor that Gold held to his neck not so long ago. The circumstances were different then, but it was still a choice.

This is, too.

Carver takes a slow breath and then lets it go, shivering a little. The warm feeling just spreads, and he likes the feel of Gold’s mouth on his throat. It feels good to be touched. He’s calm and he isn’t often, thoughts always racing - pushing, pushing, pushing against everything around him. But not right now.

Now, he’s calm, and he shifts to curl his hand against Gold’s hip. Encouraging, even as Carver arches into the touch.

It feels good. That’s enough. ]

[ Every little touch from Carver, however small, sends the message that there is some desire to reciprocate, and that throws his senses some -- it doesn't allow him to completely forget his own body, something that is far more common for him to do in situations such as this. It reminds him that there are layers of cloth separating his own skin from open air and from him.

A small shudder runs up through him.

Soon, there's just the moment, and Gold closes his eyes. There is only the scent of him, the taste -- his tongue teases the line of his collar bone, and his hand, slow and careful but an ever-present weight, presses further inward. ]

[ That's nice, the way Gold shivers. He's not one for big reactions, seems like, but Carver's good at paying attention. Sometimes - like now - he can even slow down long enough to settle into that calm place while he's doing it. Carver closes his eyes with a hiss as Gold touches him, not bothering to be coy about it.

Yeah. This is doing it for him. He feels warm, and calm, and on his way to hard. ]

[ Unknown to many, likely even Gold himself, is that his reactions are contained because he's focused. Because while he is caught in the experience of it all right now, even though what he discovers elicits an appreciative shiver, a little sound uttered against Carver's bare skin, Gold is still primarily unconcerned about anything but making certain this is worth something to the one he is with.

Encouraging whispers, coaxing fingers. All applied with one goal in mind.

Trust is a precious thing for anyone to offer, and he uses it with care. He is the last person he would choose -- his effort is a reward in itself for most, a reminder for others that they have misjudged something. ]

[ It’s strange, how hard this is hitting him. Carver shivers again, his hand curled around Gold’s hip, and takes a breath to steady himself. The warm feeling just echoes through the whole of him. He can feel it everywhere, pulsing out from his chest and settling in odd places. The very center of his palms, behind his eyes. Deep in his gut.

It’s gentle, and slow, and that -

It’s a lot, suddenly. ]

You can do more.

[ His voice comes out soft, and a little hoarse. What is it about this man that throws him off balance every goddamn time? ]

I want you to.

[ Gold is near enough now to be sitting hip to hip with him, which in itself is electric even with layers of clothing between them. His contact with other people, especially positive, is often so minimal. So he has to use caution even when his senses are demanding more. Because then he'll lose his aim and direction.

A soft hm against his shoulder when he speaks. Gold's hand carefully feeling the shape of him while his thumb quests for the sewn lines of his trousers, seeking catches, buttons, zippers. He sits up a little, lips brushing the shell of his ear. ]

Do you have something for me?

[ Oh, the cheek on this man. Carver grins, shivering a little at the way Gold presses in close. The words against his ear.

He reaches between them to undo his own belt. Answer enough. ]

Want me to get you?

[ He’d do that, he thinks. He’d go down to his knees and not care at all. ]

...Don't worry about that for right now.

[ There's an edge in the first few syllables, some remainder of a reaction he carefully keeps under wraps, but it's nothing approaching admonishment.

But inwardly he knows if he lets Carver do that now, he'll let him do whatever he wants after. The older man is only distantly aware of how much that could undo him.

When Carver has his belt untethered, his hand follows him, only a split-second where contact is broken, and when his fingers return there are slipping under folds of cloth, in a single turn freeing him but catching him up in another way.

He pulls in a careful whisp of breath. ]

[ Carver’s breath stutters, free hand going to Gold’s arm. Not to stop him or even to slow him, just to have something to hold onto. He arches up into the touch, not bothering to be coy about it.

Yeah. Yeah, this is working for him. He’s shivering with it. Wanting in a way he hasn’t in a long time. And Gold hasn’t taken any of his clothes off. Just loosened things, and touched him so goddamn carefully. Carver wants to - he doesn’t know. Bite him for it, maybe. Or ask for me. He does neither, and takes a steadying breath. ]

[ When Carver takes hold of him, there is a pause at first, opening his eyes to take in the whole of his demeanor, ascertain that he is not being signaled to stop.

Gold strokes the full length of him, careful with his application of pressure -- not foregoing entirely, but seeming to know when to increase, for how long, where to focus the tension most. For a man who doesn't really do this much, especially not to himself, he still seems to know well enough what he is doing, following a mix of distant experience and just feeling out Carver's reactions. ]

[ It’s not like Carver was a blushing virgin before he showed up here. He got around. He didn’t let it mean anything for years because it couldn’t mean anything. He had to put his people first - always, and forever. And if there was Riley, once, that still ended.

It doesn’t matter if he thinks about it sometimes, even in the aftermath. Riley’s probably long dead, a ghost to him either way. And yet that meant something, had a weight like this does, and -

And.

Carver takes a shaky breath, then another. He rubs absent circles with his thumb against Gold’s hip just for something to do other than react, twitching and quiet, to the way Gold touches him. It’s not enough to get him off - not yet, not like this - but it’s certainly enough to work him up. More than enough. ]

[ His hips seem to quiver a little at the touch, as he shifts and draws in a breath to steady himself. And always keeping any of that pause or uncertainty out of his hands; the free one moving to briefly cover Carver's, the other keeping a steady but firm pace in its ministrations.

Was it like this before? He would be struggling to remember at any other time, reaching for some memory that had been beyond desperate fumbling, two people not in their right minds in the moment and desperate for words on the matter afterward when they were sane again and once more merely colleagues.

No. This was very different. ]

If you say yes, I am going to move. But it doesn't have to be more than this if you don't want it.

Fuck.

[ It comes out in a soft hiss, his head bowed. It shouldn't feel like this - too slow, maybe, to kill the ache with adrenaline. Nothing fumbling and rushed about this. No hand clamped over his mouth so the rotters won't hear. Carver isn't certain what he feels. Calm, in part - a rare thing, and one he's having trouble explaining. But shaky in other ways.

It's hard to focus. Gold's hands are steady, though, and it feels good. Maybe it can just feel good for a while.

He takes a breath. Holds it, then exhales. ]

Yes.

[ One thing Gold will probably never do is try to stifle him; it's one reason why he keeps talking. To connect. But sometimes, with the right person, you could tell when a little prompting would drive them a little more. (With the situation reversed, he has no idea how he would react, himself.)

But once he is given what he asks for, with a breath and perhaps a fond, thankful kiss, he does as he said he would: he moves. Those little exploring tastes travel lower, and as he carefully shifts to his knees in front of him, his lips leave a trail down his chest, and his free hand trails down along his side. ]

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