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[ 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. ]

[ And just like that, it’s easy again. Carver knows he’s drunk still but there’s nothing like an adrenaline rush to get him good and focused, and now there’s nothing he wants to do except be here and touch this man. He runs his fingers through Larus’s hair and then cups the back of his neck, pulling him close. Shivering a little at the feel of Larus’s teeth against his skin.

He likes it. He wants more. ]

Yeah?

[ Carver’s voice is rough. So is the way he goes for Larus’s pants, working them open and pressing his hand inside. ]

Tell me.

[ Are there words for this? He doubts it considering how close they are, how close they are to other people, but the darkness and the very thin walls of the tent give them a strange sort of privacy that Larus doesn't even acknowledge. All he does is breathe and arch into the heat of Carver's hand. He's starting to cool from whatever he'd drank, settling in a way that has him holding even tighter to Carver.

Larus turns his head, biting at Carver's mouth with that same sort of fervor. ]

Just you. [ He presses into him, their foreheads knocking together. ] Only you.

[ And to cover the emotion flooding his voice, Larus pushes his hands under Carver's clothes and drags his nails over skin with enough pressure to really feel it. ]

[ Yeah. Yeah, that feels fucking good. Carver arches at the sensation, grinding their foreheads together. He doesn't usually like people touching his scars - not because they hurt or anything, just because he likes it best when he's in charge, when he can direct things - but somehow it's different with Larus.

Always was, maybe. Carver hisses out a breath, working Larus roughly. Wanting to feel him fucking everywhere. To know what it feels like when they've both got a little less control. ]

Good.

[ Larus grits his teeth, muffling the softest sort of sound at the way Carver touches him. Maybe his nature has something to do with it, but the roughness feels good in a different way, hips jerking forward into the press of Carver's hand and digging his own nails a little deeper into skin.

And as always, there's nothing to say, his free hand easily tearing the button of Carver's pants in a desperate attempt to feel him. It's a little less focused though, fumbling and feeling frustrated that he can't touch him more than he already has. So, Larus uses both hands and rips at the fabric, sucking in a breath as he finally gets a hand on Carver's cock to stroke him. This is what he wants: just to feel him. ]

[ In a different moment, Carver thinks he'd laugh or maybe tease Larus a bit for ripping at his pants, for how desperately they're both grabbing at each other. Not here, though. There's nothing but this, the physicality of it. How much trust they've shared. Carver just rolls sideways, grabbing at Larus's shoulder to pull him on top. There isn't a lot of space here but that doesn't matter. That doesn't matter at all. ]

[ Even if they had more space than what the tent provided, Larus wouldn't care.

He drops on top of him and pauses long enough to go for Carver's mouth, the blunt edge of his teeth catching his bottom lip and sucking hard. The urge to really bite him is there, but he ignores it in favor of touching him, grinding against him for a little friction. This is good. Just being in this moment, feeling him and responding like they can't get it out of their system fast enough. He briefly thinks about getting Carver on his side and taking him that way, pressed close like he'd held him before. Yet, he doesn't move, kissing him harder and desperate to feel how they both unravel at the ends. ]

[ This feels right, how they're pressed together. How Larus leans down to kiss him hard enough it stings, how they can grind against each other. Rocking to chase the sensation, to let it drag. Carver barely hears himself gasping, his hands on Larus's hips and then running up his back. Wanting to touch him fucking everywhere. Carver was drunk and drifting earlier, content to let things slow down and just exist in the space with Larus next to him, touching him. And now -

He's awake now. He feels more alive than he has in a long time, even as his head swims from lack of air. Carver grins when he finally has to pull back, peering up at Larus because yeah. Fuck, yeah. There's nowhere else he wants to be. ]

You - you feel really fucking good, you know that?

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