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[ 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. ]

[ They fit together like this, Carver thinks absently. In this strange quiet space, in the way they’ve decided not to hurt each other this time. He can feel Larus’s mouth pressed against his throat, directly over his pulse, and knows — in some bone-deep way — that Larus isn’t going to kill him. That they’re beyond that right now.

These things happen.

Carver exhales, slow and steady, and settles against him. ]

[ Time seems to drift after that.

It feels like all those moments after they've fucked, the adrenaline settling and something else slipping in. Larus wants to speak, but there's no point to it right now, not with Carver as drunk as he is and the chance for a real conversation so limited. For a while, instead, he settles for holding him and listening to him breathe, the sound of his heart beating incredibly soothing until something else joins it.

Another person? No, two.

Larus sits up, looking over at Carver and touching his cheek to pull his attention. ]

Someone's here. [ Which shouldn't be all that surprising since they're in an actual house. ]

[ For a little while, things are just quiet. Carver lets his guard down. Larus is solid and steady against him, and that’s enough.

That’s enough, for now.

But then, some things are hardwired. And when Larus speaks, touching his cheek, it’s like flipping a switch. There’s a threat, so he reacts, pushing himself halfway up, adrenaline spiking. Reaching for his knife only to realize that it’s gone, abandoned somewhere on the ground with the rest of his clothes. ]

Where?

[ Larus doubts it's so much a threat as it is someone returning to their home, but it's difficult to tell when all he can hear are their vitals. He's already sliding off the bed to retrieve what clothes are in the room with them, calm in an effort to keep Carver just as steady. ]

Down the hall. Probably near the front door. [ This is the problem about not knowing the places they're in. ] Get dressed. I'll check to make sure.

[ Because he's already in his pants and pulling on his shoes, wanting to get his shirt before anyone notices and gather Carver's jacket from the kitchen. ]

[ It’s easy to snap into the mission mindset, everything vicious and immediate. It sobers Carver up like nothing else. How many times did Pope wake them up in the middle of the night and time their responses? How many times did the enemy break through the lines?

You learn to react. Reflex bleeds through.

He dresses silently, pulling his boots on and grabbing the knife before he follows Larus. Ready for anything. ]

[ Now that he's aware, it's not exactly a straight shot to the kitchen, but whoever lives there is clearly distracted enough not to notice. Lucky, really, since Larus isn't in the mood to deal with the consequences, and he tracks Carver unconsciously behind him the entire way, silent as he slips into the room and retrieves the things they've left there.

He aches to turn around and shove Carver right up against the counter.

But he doesn't. Not there, pulling the backdoor open and waiting for Carver to move past him before he closes it and joins him outside. There, Larus pushes him those few steps into the wall and kisses him, still shirtless and not really caring so much about it. ]

[ Both of them know how to move quick and quiet, and they aren't stopped by whichever idiot is unfortunate enough to live here. Carver knows how this usually ends. Run into someone unawares and it swings bloody. But they're quiet, the both of them, and he follows Larus's lead. And then they're outside, in the open air, and it's sobering. Clarity shining in just in time for Larus to walk him back into the wall. Carver's hands to go Larus's hips, squeezing hard, and then he just kisses Larus back. Groaning into it.

That feels right, somehow. ]

[ He breathes into the kiss, wanting to be closer and annoyed that their time together had gotten short. There's still the rest of the night and even the day, if Carver wanted to stay with him, and Larus tries to convey that in the way he kisses him, biting at his lower lip hard enough to sting and then nipping at the tip of his tongue. He's got their clothes in one hand, so the other comes up to gently fist in Carver's hair as he tries to slow the urgency of the kiss.

They don't have to rush. Not anymore. ]

Let's find somewhere else, [ he says eventually, voice thick with obvious desire. ]

[ It was slow earlier, almost languid. Carver thinks he could have fallen asleep like that, with Larus wrapped around him and his mouth slotted against Carver’s throat. They’ve fallen into certain patterns now. Things that ought to spark as a threat don’t anymore. And the way that Larus takes him by the hair has Carver groaning, rocking against him like they’re teenagers necking in an alley—they are necking in an alley, where anyone could walk by and see.

Patterns, Carver thinks absently. He doesn’t care at all. Not when they’re pressed against each other like this, when it aches and he wants to leave a mark on Larus, feel him do the same. Crazy shit like that.

Carver grins. He can feel where Larus almost bit him, the sting of it. He wants to feel that more. ]

Yeah. Yeah, c’mom.

[ He’s got a tent, at least, one he’s not sharing with anyone else. Not the most comfortable but who gives a fuck? ]

[ Pulling away from him is harder than it should be, thinking and then deciding that either of their tents would probably work better than this alley. They conjure worse memories anyhow, stepping back and shrugging into Carver's coat without bothering to put his shirt on. Larus doesn't care about that, taking the other man's hand and dragging him in the direction of Duplicity's ridiculous camp setup.

They reach the tent with little problem, dropping Carver's hand to get it open and yank him inside without ceremony. Larus' hands are already on his belt, fumbling it undone even as he leans forward to kiss him. There's not much room to maneuver, but they're on their knees and Larus wants to be close to him anyway. ]

I want –

[ He just shakes his head, unsure but adamant about touching him. Larus even leans in to press his mouth to that spot he'd let his teeth scrape over, knowing it would be easy to sink his fangs in, and that's the danger of it, he thinks. All of this with Carver is dangerous, and they continue to push against boundaries like it isn't. ]

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