amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ It's not impossible to navigate like this. Maybe if he had time, if he had the chance to practice, then Carver would be able to do it like second nature. Blind people did this shit all the time, didn't they? But for now it's easier just to follow Gold, move with him, even if that means doing it a little slower.

Carver stills, his hand tight on Gold's arm. ]

Here?

[ Low, hissed against Gold's mouth. It's a big couch, they'd have space. But there's also a bed and that might be fun, too. ]

[ There's a twitch of a smile on his lips. If Carver had not asked and just directed instead, he might have followed. But this...it kept his pulse from hammering too hard, an ebb in what might otherwise feel like a torrent of crashing waves. ]

That depends entirely on how far you're planning ahead right now.

[ They could move later, or if he needed something, he could potentially summon it. But for now as wildly as his imagination might be running, he doubts it will escalate that much.

But he does need to sit, either way. ]

Bold of you to assume I planned any of this.

[ He didn't. It's just happening. But he's good at improvising. Has to be. That's one of the rules. You roll with what's in front of you. Carver leans forward and kisses him hard, just to fucking do it. They're here, and Gold hasn't pushed him away, so he rolls with it.

And he's not really sure where anything else is right now. So. ]

A likely story.

[ Just a little tease before he finally sits down and tugs him close again to cover any immediate rebuttal, drawing the other man's hands back to him, around him. ]

[ Carver snorts. Sometimes he just does things and they either blow up in his face or they don't. Either way, he survives them. Just how it is. And so he's doing this, and it both means something and it means very little and he isn't going to think about that like a contradiction because he doesn't want to think at all.

It just is. So he sits down next to Gold, and puts his hands on Gold's arms to anchor himself. And kisses him again, just as hard as before.

Feels like the thing to do, so he does it. Don't need sight for that. ]

[ Once both of his hands are free, Gold does not hesitate to use them. A memory of a different night, fingers brushing through Carver's hair, another brushing over his knee. ]

...I believe, that you asked me to tell you what I wanted, or for you to guess.

[ And he kind of wants him to. As though he were the blind one, hearing Carver speak seems to be what's carrying every rush right now. ]

[ That shouldn't feel as nice as it does. He shouldn't press into it so readily, so hungrily. But he does, and Carver shivers a little at the feel of Gold's fingers carding through his hair.

Don't think about that. Press forward.

He tightens his grip on Gold's arms, then loosens it. Rubs up and down and leans in to kiss him again. Thoroughly. ]

I did.

[ He drags his teeth against Gold's lip. ]

And I'm guessing you want to take me apart while you don't muss those nice clothes once. You always seemed like the type. Hmm?

[ He grins. He wants the challenge of making Gold lose his cool. He thinks he's wanted that for a while. ]

Am I wrong?

[ There's still a lot to read from him, without being able to see, in just hearing the tremor in every breath he takes in, the shudder that runs through him when their lips part, when teeth graze. He's not wound as tight as he was that first night. Perhaps not yet. But could be driven on his way in due time, certainly.

All of it might be enough to leave Carver thinking that he was on exactly the track he thinks he is. But for the one time he handed Carver the reigns to "return the favor" he has certainly presented that image. Well put together. Controlled. Thorough. A fairly complete profile could be put together from that.

And then ]

...You are.

[ Hmm. Not what he expected to hear. Carver can't see to read Gold's expression, but there are other ways. He's getting better at it, he thinks. Knowing what to pay attention to.

He knocks their foreheads together. Not hard. ]

Then enlighten me.

It can be that, and it has been, when... when that's all there is.

[ When it's just him, taking care of someone else, and then he disappears from the picture.

The warmth in that added connection was everything, he seemed to relax at least a little against him.

Control with a partner is a careful thing; it is easy for him to assume. Familiar. Expected of him in some respects. But it's also what he does when he is with someone for whom he has to earn his right to be there. ]

This feels new. [ In so many ways. ] And I don't fully understand all the ways I want you, but I do.

[ Carver doesn't move to kiss him again yet, just presses against him. Wanting that closeness, that stability. He doesn't know where anything in this room fucking is except Gold. ]

I don't know what that means, Gold.

[ He exhales through his teeth. ]

So you're gonna have to fucking tell me what you want, or I'm going to keep guessing and getting it wrong and then neither of us are getting off.

You're pushing harder because it feels stronger.

[ He kisses along the line of his jaw. ]

It feels more powerful, less helpless. It's why you want to see me [ He swallows ] ...fall apart.

[ Because for a few minutes that gave Carver a good deal more control. ]

I'm saying if you want to take some of that back, I will let you. ...And that I think I want you to.

[ Which, in itself takes some of his breath away to admit, even if in the back of his head, he knows that if he decides he is wrong about that, he can stop him. ]

[ Carver shivers again. It's a small thing, on balance. It shouldn't be hitting him like this.

But it is. It's not just because he's blind right now. It cuts deeper than that. He trusts Gold, he thinks. Not completely. Not like one of his team. But in small ways. In this moment. And there's no taking that back, is there? ]

Then prove it. Take your clothes off.

That's what you want?

[ It comes out unbidden, and then there is no taking it back. But Carver has already established that he wants him for reasons other than convenience, so there is that. And he can't actually see him.

It would be like doing this in the dark, for at least one of them.

He pulls in a calming sigh.

He can do that, whether immediately or gradually. I just need to do it myself, he thinks. Or at the very least, be asked. He thinks that would also be acceptable.

One of Gold's hands moves to his tie and the collar of his shirt. ]

...A.. [ He bites his lip. ] All at once?

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.

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