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[ Does he say anything to that? Should he have to?

It's a mixed up feeling, closing his eyes as they just rest together for the sake of doing it. Nothing about this moment screams urgency or even sex, odd if he tries to think about it because... isn't that the point of all this? He can meet quota and not think about it the rest of the time, until he has to again, but with Carver, it's backwards. He wants to be with him and not just because this city dictates they have to, and Larus has no idea what to do with that knowledge even as he presses their lips together. Slow, sweet. ]

You confuse me.

[ Maybe it hadn't been that obvious, but he needs to tell him anyhow, straddling Carver and resting his hands lightly on his chest now. The desperation of their time in that alley seems to be fading, his expression conflicted even as he drags his fingers along Carver's collarbone. Just idle, careful touches. ]

I don't know what to do with it sometimes.

[ He likes having Larus on top of him, how it feels grounding instead of like a trap — something to be survived, and overcome. This is a choice and even if Carver doesn’t understand all of it, he knows that much. He knows how it feels to have Larus touching him, bracing his hands against Carver’s chest.

Silently, Carver reaches to run his fingers over Larus ribs, his arms, and then down to circle loosely around his wrists. ]

Me neither, [ Carver admits softly. His eyes never leave Larus’s, not once. ] But you feel good.

[ They're holding each other now, arousal banked momentarily as his eyes drop to the curl of Carver's fingers around his wrists. Then, slowly, he lifts his gaze to look at him. There's intensity in that, like he's searching for something in the depths of those dark eyes, and Larus' expression thins, lips parting as he considers what to say for the longest moment before he settles on: ]

You do too. [ And then, almost carefully, ] I don't want to stop seeing you.

[ They haven't put a name to any of it or a real reason, which is fine. Larus would prefer to keep labels out of it. Yet, that's not the same as working through whatever intentions they might have with each other, and he thinks he might have already come to that conclusion when Carver had saved his life not that long ago. ]

[ They're seeing each other now, aren't they? They're looking at each other, taking measure, and Carver's drunk enough that this feels easy. All the edges sanded off. He squeezes Larus's wrists. It's gentle.

That feels important. ]

So come see me.

[ Carver peers up at him. Still drunk, and utterly sincere. ]

Yeah?

[ It is important, but despite noting the sincerity in those words and the way Carver looks at him, Larus doesn't know how to interpret it. He can't really be sure what he was asking anyhow, pushing it aside and trying to focus before his thoughts circle right back to it.

He leans forward, eyes on Carver. ]

Wouldn't that be a problem if I showed up where you're staying?

[ His voice is light, careful. It's not something he should be asking, and yet. ]

[ Carver blinks, peering up at Larus. It takes him a moment to process the question, to remember the answer. Because there's a reason they can't do that. There are rules.

There are always rules. ]

Mhph. I can come to you.

[ This is not a good topic of conversation.

So, he closes his eyes for a moment and nods, purposely breathes as he lifts a hand to brush at some of Carver's hair. ]

I know.

[ It's easier that way. He isn't attached, doesn't have a reason to keep them from seeing each other. They still haven't found a place for things like this, but Larus tunes his thoughts out, dipping down to kiss him so he can block it all out and focus on what's right in front of him. ]

[ There's something underneath the words, in the way that Larus closes his eyes, but it's hard to focus. To pull it apart enough to remember where the corners are and what's hiding in them. Carver squeezes Larus's wrists again, holding fast to him, and returns the kiss. Lets it deepen, lets it happen, lets himself just drift into the physical. Everything feels good right now. So why not just let it? ]

Stay.

[ He rocks against Larus, wanting to feel him. Hold him, maybe. ]

Just - stay. For a little.

[ It's getting harder and harder to distinguish the lines.

Maybe there had never been any to begin with, and they'd simply been fooling themselves into believing it. ]

I don't want to be anywhere else.

[ He whispers it against his mouth, soft and sincere. What few others he knows are likely busy, and Larus has always preferred to be on his own anyway. Having Carver there with him is the easiest part of all of this, easing down his body and licking at the places he knows are sensitive. The physical is quieter in some ways too, gently letting his teeth scrape over skin before he decides to be bold and lightly drag the edge of a fang across his chest. ]

[ Thing is, this doesn't feel reckless. It's just the two of them. They aren't doing this to make quota or because someone's drugged them stupid and forced them. It's a choice. It always was. Carver shivers, his breath hitching as Larus touches him. At that hint of an edge. And he shifts to cup a hand to the back of Larus's neck. Holding him steady. ]

You wanna bite me?

[ He asks it softly. ]

I'd let you.

[ It's that question, more than anything, that has him stilling, lips pressing gentle to the skin he's just reddened slightly. His hunger is always there, never muted but pushed to the background when he's in control of himself, and even with the memory of how sweet Carver's blood is, Larus doesn't know if he should. ]

Yes, but I'm not going to. [ He says it aloud like it gives him power to do so. ] You're already drunk.

[ If he bit him, how would that feel combined with the alcohol? Larus traces his fingers over the place his teeth had been, thinking about it. ]

[ Carver just watches him, eyes half-lidded. He's drifting again. Everything feels warm and easy, and he likes having Larus on him. Not pinning him down, not hurting him or even trying to hold him still, but just there. Steadying. ]

Mhmmkay.

[ He rubs the back of Larus's neck, drawing circles with his thumb. Just to touch him, to have that. ]

I'm real drunk, [ he adds cheerfully. It's great. He should do it more often. ]

You are, [ he agrees, surprised by how well he tolerates this particular knowledge. ] Is there anything else you want to tell me right now?

[ Larus is almost teasing, just the slightest curve to his mouth that indicates a smile, and because he can, because it's normal to do this, he leans down and rests their foreheads together. Breathes him in, soaks up the heat of his body – he's still too warm if he consciously thinks about it – and the comforting sound of his heart beating.

Then, he kisses him softly, a placeholder as he descends once more to lick and kiss and occasionally nip along Carver's skin. ]

[ Is this what they’re doing now, telling each other things because they’re too drunk to second guess it? Or at least Carver is, riding the currents to someplace quiet and calm. There’s nothing outside of the moment and how the two of them move inside it. Carver’s eyes are half-lidded and he likes how it feels to slow down, to have Larus’s kiss him and drag his mouth. The lighter sting of his teeth, never verging onto true pain. But it’s something real, something that keeps him from drifting entirely, and he runs his fingers through Larus’s hair again in lazy encouragement. Gentle, just like before. Even when his breath hitches, even when he shivers under Larus. ]

Your hair’s really soft, [ Carver tells him, reaching out to rub his thumb along the line of Larus’s cheek and them over to his mouth. Pressing against his lip. ] ‘s nice.

[ Maybe this is fine. If they touch each other and are gentle in silent ways, something that Larus still isn't quite used to because it's been years. Casimir comes to mind for a moment, but Larus turns his focus to Carver and the weight of his hand, lips parting to nip at the edge of his thumb. Then, he draws it into his mouth and licks at it, tracing a path down the swell of his palm and to his wrist. He presses his nose there, leaning into him. ]

Nice, [ he murmurs, though it has nothing to do with his hair and everything to do with this. Them. ] Brandon –

[ He only says it because he can, pushing up to kiss him hard and insistent as his fingers dip down over his belly and between his legs. When he grips his cock, it's careful but firm, stroking him slowly as he deepens the kiss. Why waste this moment? Why waste any of it? ]

[ There’s no one else who calls him by that name here, no one Carver would let call him that. He can’t recall exactly when that changed, or why, or what it’s made of him in the aftermath. They should have stayed strangers to each other if they remained anything at all, but this?

This echos. There’s no taking it back.

Carver groans into the kiss, shivering as Larus touches him. It feels like being alive. Like feeling the sun on his back. And he sits up a little so he can touch Larus more, kiss him back hard. One hand rubbing at Larus’s head and the other curving over his hip and then lower, wanting just to touch him. He’s getting hard and he likes how they fit together, how it still makes him shiver when Larus touches his scars but in a good way, a path he wants to chase down.

He knocks their heads together, trying to communicate that without words. To show it somehow. ]

Yeah, [ he agrees softly, and puts his mouth on the spot just below Larus jaw. He wants to leave a mark, he thinks. ]

[ The pull of that urgency drags him back to all of this, to the places Carver's hands linger and the way he responds to Larus' touch. A shiver rolls down his spine when he focuses on the press of his mouth too, his free hand lifting to rest against the back of Carver's head. Urge him close, offer permission for this one thing that he only trusts Carver to do. His fingers curl in strands of dark hair, holding him close.

Larus' hand stills between Carver's thighs, squeezing him steadily. ]

I – How do you want me?

[ He swallows purposely, refusing to think as he pushes even closer to Carver. If he asked, Larus wonders if Carver would put his arms around him and anchor him there in the moment. It's all he actually wants anyway, and if he can give Carver more, he believes that might just be enough. ]

[ There's trust in this, Carver realizes. There has been for a while. All these times they've held each other and caused no pain. And maybe it's only because he's drunk that the thought doesn't stagger him, that he accepts it easily because it feels easy. He thinks, maybe, that Larus is the only person in this place that Carver trusts not to hurt him. It shouldn't be like that.

But it is.

Carver drags his teeth a little, sighing against Larus's throat. And then he shifts, getting a hand on Larus's shoulder to flip them. Even drunk, he's graceful as he peers down at Larus. Just watching him. ]

Like this. Just wanna - like this.

[ Maybe they can just hold each other, for a little while. ]

[ His back sinks into the mattress as they roll, and both of Larus' hands settle on Carver's hips, fingers stroking over skin and up the length of his torso. And although they're naked, maybe it doesn't have to be about sex. Sometimes, before all of this, it hadn't been. He'd climb up into Casimir's apartment and crawl into bed with him, lay there and hold him until they both fell asleep. Larus blinks away the memory and meets Carver's eyes.

There's a hard flush under his skin, but Larus doesn't care.

He cups Carver's face, dragging him down. ]

Come here. [ Their noses touch, their foreheads. ] I want to feel you closer.

[ It's permission, maybe a promise of sorts, and Carver just presses into the touch for a moment, closing his eyes before he nods and shifts onto his side. Pulling Larus flush to him, one hand cupped to the back of his head and his arm wrapped around Larus's shoulders. Holding him, just holding him. Then, very carefully: ]

Yeah?

[ Neither of them do this much, he thinks. It's strange. It shouldn't be as easy as it is, and that has so little to do with the alcohol now. ]

[ It makes him feel... something. Strange, certainly, but there's more to it that Larus doesn't want to question, easing onto his side next to Carver as he sinks into the embrace. He has a hand against Carver's thigh, thumb lightly stroking across skin as he watches him. Whatever should be said empties out into a thin press of his lips, nodding silently.

He doesn't say anything for a while, continuing to look at him before he finally settles on a question that has nothing to do with sex at all. ]

What do you want?

[ They fit together like this. Carver keeps his eyes close and just presses against Larus. Holding him, trailing his fingers over Larus's back. Rubbing his head. The moment keeps on drifting and Carver with it.

These things happen. ]

I don't know, [ he says softly, though that's a lie. He lets it stay there in the open air for a moment, then just presses their foreheads together. ] I don't want to be alone.

[ This is a lull. Something's going to happen to change it, one way or another, and Larus knows there's nothing to be done about it. It's just the nature of existence, of life. Even in a place like Duplicity, they cannot escape it, but in these hours they steal together, it doesn't matter. He can relax, can enjoy Carver's presence and the way he touches him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when their foreheads touch, that familiar request causing an ache to settle in his chest. ]

You're not alone when you're with me.

[ Maybe that's all he can really give him. Anything else wouldn't be a promise worth offering, and Larus would rather not hurt him in that way. ]

[ I'm drunk, Carver thinks, and people like us only exist in certain ways. Yet there is a promise in it, in this thing they're doing, the way they've chosen to move around each other. That means something, doesn't it? Even if he can't remember the words, or maybe never knew them in the first place, it means something.

He sighs, and presses his hand flat against Larus's back. Tracing the curve of his spine. ]

No.

Not with you.

[ He shouldn't ask for anything more than this. There's no reason to, not when they have nothing that says they should, but Larus can't help thinking about it as the heat of Carver's palm soaks into his skin. What purpose does he have here in this place? Surviving is a bare minimum now, and he's always restless unless he's with Carver. What else is there other than that?

Rather than say anything, Larus nods slightly and leans to tuck his face against the curve of his neck. His heartbeat is strong there, lips pressing to the pulsepoint in a gesture that speaks louder than words. ]

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