amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ 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. ]

[ It's deliberate, just like before. Searching, Carver thinks, lets himself just exist as it happens. As Gold sinks to his knees, his hand trailing down Carver's side and skipping over scars. It's deliberate, and gentle, and it's a lot - has been since the start. There's a weight to this that Carver wasn't expecting, and isn't entirely sure how to take.

He shivers, shifting to put a hand on Gold's shoulder instead. Squeezing gently, watching - eyes bright - to see what he does next. Knowing, already, that he'll let Gold do it. ]

[ Gold's eyes open briefly to meet his, and his hands stop what they are doing to open his trousers further and give himself a little more access. There is maintained contact still -- a lingering kiss over his abdomen, a reminder that more is coming as he settles between his legs.

There's a flicker of an instant where he thinks of the moment they met on the street. A misunderstanding giving way to two very unsatisfied egos, and this -- well this definitely isn't where either of them imagined winding up, he supposes. But it does give Gold one victory, in his eyes. Appearances did wind up deceiving, as they always do.

Another kiss, dipping suggestively lower, and then he is taking him in hand again, first one, then both, feeling and gently working every contour of his length and chasing away any flagging that might have occurred in their absence. When his lips appear there, followed by a lash of his tongue, it is without any real warning or preamble. ]

[ It's gentle, again. Every move telegraphed. Carver will think about that later, try to pull it apart and search for the meaning within it. What it means that another person looked at him and decided to go this slow, to take such care to ensure there's no pain. Like that time before, with the razor. And then Gold goes lower, and those thoughts are just gone.

Carver bows his head with a hiss, his hand on Gold's shoulder. Just holding, for now. Breathing with it, that flash of warm pleasure.

It feels good - uncomplicated, and good. And he lets himself react, to want it. He holds very still, and it -

It's just good. ]

[ Again, no signals to stop, so further he advances, his hands handling the heft of him, a mixture of a gentle hold and massage, working everything his lips will not reach while his mouth worries about careful manipulation. He could not say whether this is something he is good at or not -- he just has some general idea what would be the most sensitive and what wouldn't, what would feel good, what should be handled with care.

There's no room really to hope he is doing well or worry he is not. But to feel the hand on his shoulder, to feel every tensing muscle, every shiver -- all enough to force a rush through him as well, and he moans. ]

[ He can feel it when Gold moans, the vibration of it, and - yeah. Yeah, all right. That's doing it for him. Carver bites back a groan, head bowed, and his hand resting on Gold's shoulder. Shivering, now. It's been a long time since anyone's done this for him and there's the same weird intensity to the moment that nearly everything he does with Gold has.

Not for the first time, he thinks of the razor. Of baring his throat and telling himself it didn't involve trust. That it was just a moment, a test like all the others, and he'd survive it just the same.

Survival's the only thing that really matters these days. If you're alive, then you can fight. If you can fight, then you can do anything.

But this is different. Stranger, somehow. He's not certain it's something that can be won.

Carver shivers again, holding as still as he can, and reaches out to run his fingers through Gold's hair. He's aching, fighting to hold still, and it just -

Feels good. Not much does these days. ]

[ He couldn't have explained it if prompted, how every little movement, that shudder, the hand in his hair affects him. He doesn't have a fixation on any specific part of a man or woman, even if he can seem that way, just as anyone else might be. But being wanted? Being seen as something erotic in his own right? Once it clicks, he feels it -- any attempt to move on without voicing his pleasure would have failed.

For a moment he shudders, the sound that rumbles up his throat not quite a moan, something perhaps a little helpless.

It redoubles his efforts. His tongue moves over him in heavier strokes; his hands have more purpose, learning him with as much intent as coaxing him. ]

Fuck.

[ It comes out soft, just like before. He can feel everything like this. That sound Gold makes, the way he shudders in turn. The way that he works Carver - no surprise that it's thorough. That Gold commits to this the way he's committed to everything in front of him. Not like a soldier - not like one of Carver's people - but with an intensity that Carver understands, even admires.

It hits harder than it has any right to.

Carver shivers again, swallowing hard, and trails his fingers through Gold's hair. Rubbing at his head - always, always gentle. ]

You keep - hah - you keep doing that, I'm gonna come.

[ A soft warning. He'd like that, he thinks. And he'd like returning the favor. ]

[ There was something of a soldier in him, but that was a very long time ago. Gold commits now because it is that to him: a commitment. He is taking care of someone he has decided he will take care of. See to what they need. What can make them -- if not happy, then as content as possible.

And someone in this arrangement, neither of them wanting to be here, should have some satisfaction.

His hands continue to move with a steadiness, his tongue and lips demand wordlessly. Invite. But that moan? Something more like a plea. ]

[ That noise again, vibrating through him. Carver shivers, hissing out a low sound. He'll remember that after. He'll remember that for a good long while, the way that Gold moaned. ]

Good. 's good -

[ Carver bites back a groan, bowing his head. He's quiet when he comes. Shivering, again. But he shifts his hand to cup the back of Gold's neck and that - like before - is gentle. ]

[ Even when Gold finishes, he does so with care, though there is a slight tremor to his movements as he (for lack of a better word) tidies, keeping one hand on him, an assuring caress to continue contact rather than just suddenly leave him without. A subtle brush at the corner of his mouth -- to address a mess or just the feeling that there might be one.

His face falls -- some internal part of him always thinks first to retreat, at least in some small way; once outside the moment where he controls everything has passed, the same power does not remain, in his eyes. But while it still wanes he can still savor the contact; he nuzzles his cheek against Carver's hand. ]

Are you --? [ Satisfied? All right? ]

[ The endorphin rush comes and conquers, and there's a good long moment where Carver feels nothing but calm and warm. Content just to exist in the moment, with another person, with Gold leaning into the touch. Carver shifts to cup his cheek, smoothing his thumb along the line of Gold's jaw.

Gentle, like before. ]

Mhmm.

[ Yeah, he's feeling pretty damn great. ]

Gonna let me return the favor?

[ The way he worded it was immediately reassuring, in a way, reminding Gold that he was in a position to say yes or no. But the way his gaze immediately wandered, showing some uncertainty still. ]

...You want that?

[ There's more question in that tone than he perhaps intended outright. Better than what had been on his lips a millisecond before that, likely a repeat of that earlier you don't have to worry about that. It's what he's more accustomed to. ]

[ That's a telling look, isn't it? Carver knows how to read people, has some rudimentary psychological training. But the truth is, he mostly just pays attention. People don't expect it from him.

He shifts, pressing his thumb against Gold's lip. A light touch, easy to shake. But meaningful. ]

Yeah.

[ Simple, no jokes or games. ]

How do you want me?

[ He responds immediately to the touch on hips lips; eyes immediately center and focus. The little shaking breath that escapes, telling.

He is suddenly very aware of his own body and how constricted everything feels.

A tender kiss, there; it keeps him grounded, engaged, and less like his clothes are literally the only thing stopping him from floating away. ]

...I've already had you.

[ Said perhaps more blunt than a man with more experience and charisma would manage. He readjusts in his head. ]

I think the question is more how you want me.

[ He swallows, and some of the pretense drops away for half a second, he looks sheepish. ]

...And please say 'off the floor,' at least, because this is very uncomfortable.

[ Yeah. That's telling, too. The way that Gold refocuses, suddenly. Carver kisses him back, loose and easy, and just grins. He likes this man, he thinks. That's a dangerous thing. But they aren't enemies now. Maybe they won't be for a while.

Maybe that would be all right. ]

I'm easy. Not much that I don't like, so long as nobody gets violent.

[ And even that has its rare moments. He taps Gold's chin, thoughtful. ]

C'mon, up. You wanna keep your clothes on, I can work with that.

...Likewise.

[ Despite his age, he is still not the most experienced. Still, he doesn't think anything you would do to injure somebody or get them away from you should be done in the bedroom unless they are not supposed to be there. And he cannot really wrap his mind around such things.

When he stands, the motion is all very careful, not just to maintain balance but to also avoid making himself additionally uncomfortable...or look foolish. All a very difficult feat to achieve in one go.

His hand brushes the collar of his shirt uncertainly. ]

I don't -- I mean...

[ Carver tips his head to the side. He doesn’t guess this time, just watches. ]

You don’t what?

[ He can be patient when it suits him. It’s rare for Carver to slow down long enough to try, but he has his moments. He knows how to hurt people - has made a life out of rendering strangers into smaller pieces - but this is different. Has to be different.

So it is. And he’s calm now, for however long it lasts. ]

[ His face falls as he pulls in a calming sigh. ]

I suppose I am not accustomed to it being addressed at all.

[ He'll go with that, anyway. This is usually the part where you roll over and fall asleep. ]

Much of this is newer to me than it probably should be.

I got that feeling.

[ There’s no judgement there. Carver’s got a talent for reading people and he has no reason to use it against Gold right now, so he doesn’t. He just tips his head back and watches, reaching out a hand to trail his fingers along Gold’s arm. ]

You wanna fuck me?

[ Been a while since he’s done that, but sure. Why not? Carver watches Gold curiously, taking it all in. ]

If not, I’ll just return the favor.

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