[ But he doesn't want to sit, doesn't want to smell or see any more of Carver's blood than he already has, and so, Larus presses into him to be even closer.
He shakes his head, searching for words that never come. Instead, he tilts his face enough to press a kiss to the corner of Carver's mouth. Soft, almost gentle. Then, he seeks out more, something firmer since he really can't remember the last time they had a moment like this together. ]
[ It’s not what he was expecting and so there’s a pause before Carver can think to respond. Larus kisses him and Carver’s eyes are still closed, and —
They always collide in the end, don’t they?
Carver sighs into the kiss and then he returns it, reaching up to cup a hand to Larus’s cheek. Pulling him close. ]
[ There's no fighting it, seeking the contact just as much as it's given, and for a moment, Larus leans into it. He kisses him again, letting the blunt edge of his teeth gently graze Carver's bottom lip until he draws back enough to look at him. If he turns his head, he can press his face into Carver's hand and forget about all of this for a while. ]
I'm not starving, [ is all he says, which is closer to a half-truth. ] You don't have to take care of me.
[ If anything, Larus should be doing that for him. ]
[ This thing cuts both ways, doesn’t it? Carver feels the drag of Larus’s teeth, that rising edge, but it doesn’t draw blood. He rubs his thumb along the line of Larus’s cheek, watching him. ]
[ There's an almost pained look at that, always so inexplicably vulnerable when he's with Carver now.
It should be a warning that, inevitably, they're going to hurt one another. It should be something they stop doing, but it's beyond the time for that now. They'd missed that window months ago. All of it is so complicated, and he hates that it is. ]
You can't say that when I haven't done a very good job of it.
[ Carver smiles faintly. What a pair they make. Even now, he wonders what he's doing. What either of them are doing. But they haven't killed each other, not yet. How many times has he tried to stab Larus?
Too many. But it shifted at some point. Became something more complicated.
He leans in and kisses Larus again. Slow this time, and thoroughly. ]
[ There's something he wants to say to that, sitting right on the edge of his tongue, but it's swallowed up in the pressure of Carver's mouth, pressing closer and curling around him to anchor them both to where they stand. It's like they're lingering on the edge of things neither of them want to say, conscious of it when the kiss eventually breaks.
He sighs, nudging their noses together. ]
I've missed you, [ Larus says, low and soft. It's as honest as he can be right now. ]
[ It’s a quiet sort of intimacy, and it scares him sometimes. The amount of trust he has in this man, how easy it feels just to press against him and seek more. Carver sighs, closing his eyes again. Larus could kill him so easily like this. ]
I did, too, [ he admits softly. ] That scares me sometimes.
[ Larus rests his forehead against Carver's, wanting to hold him steady and kiss him again. A mixed feeling washes over him with the words that settle between them, and all he does is lean even more heavily into him. ]
Why? [ These are things they never talk about. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ It always comes back to this, the ways others must have hurt him and how much Larus never wants to. Maybe they won't always have that choice, but until then, he doesn't want to let it go. He doesn't want to let Carver go. ]
I told you I wouldn't. [ That, too, he says just as softly. ] I don't know why that scares you.
[ That’s the fucked up part, Carver thinks. That he could accept it so much easier if they just fought and tore each other apart. That part’s familiar. No surprises. But here —
He has no roadmap for this except what he had with Riley, and they didn’t know what they were doing. They didn’t try to hurt each other but they did. It ended how it ended. And now this is in front of him, and Carver doesn’t know what to do with it.
That’s a little fucked up, isn’t it? ]
I don’t know what to do with it, [ he admits, very quietly. ]
[ Unable to help it, even this close, Larus frowns. He still has his eyes closed though, nudging himself closer and holding onto Carver. His fingers gently brush at his hair, desperate to find some sort of ground that doesn't feel as if it's buckling beneath them. ]
You don't have to do anything with it. [ That's always how he'd seen it. ] Some things just are.
[ Larus tilts his head then, still close but with enough distance so he can look at him. ]
But you're not alone. [ It's almost a whisper. ] I want to be with you.
[ Carver presses into the touch without a word. It feels easy like this, though he knows there’s nothing simple about what they have. What they built.
[ It's more than terrifying, to say the least. He's never had anything like this, even with Casimir, and as much as he believes he still loves him, there's just something monumentally different about the way he feels for Carver. It's almost impossible to put into words, leaning into him as he tries to think. ]
Neither do I. [ He's still inexperienced in a lot of ways. ] It can be whatever we want it to be.
[ In some ways he supposes that’s a comfort. There aren’t any rules, expectations, so they can’t fuck it up if they don’t toe the line that’s been laid. But there’s also a vast gulf standing before them, u charged territory that Carver doesn’t have the words to describe except for what he had with Riley. But that was different, and it ended more than fifteen years ago. He was a different person then. And this —
Carver shifts so he can loop an arm around Larus’s shoulders, just tugging him close. ]
[ Larus is aware that there are labels, and then, sometimes, it doesn't matter. He isn't sure if this is one of those times, but he doesn't have the capacity to consider it beyond this moment, easing into the closeness of Carver's embrace and still ignoring the scent of blood radiating from him. It's not his hunger he has a problem with. It's not even the fact that Carver is so insistent on it either.
It's Carver he's worried about. ]
I didn't do much. [ He rests a hand against the other man's chest. ] I can't take that from you.
[ Their foreheads touch, and for once, Larus feels his resolve slipping. It's easy to get caught up in this, tilting his head just enough that their mouths brush. He could press it, distract him the way he had before, but he doesn't think he has the strength to really fight it for long.
There's a quiet exhale. ]
Just a little. [ And then, they wouldn't have to talk about it anymore. ]
[ This ought to be absurd, laughable: he’s talking out the logistics of giving blood to a vampire, a vampire he keeps colliding with. How many times have they fought now? Or, more accurately, how many times has Carver tried to fight Larus?
Too many. And yet.
Carver nuzzles against Larus, and kisses him back. Slow, and careful. There’s an intimacy to this thing, isn’t there? ]
[ They're beyond fighting now, he thinks. Or should be unless the city has any say in it, and even if they disagree, there's always some sort of give between them that brings them back to this. The intimacy, the sweetness of having someone they can trust. And maybe he just wants something other than his blood, keeping that closeness even as Carver says something about running a line.
They've done all of this before. They've shared these things with each other. ]
I know.
[ But Larus doesn't give him a chance to move, kissing him harder and with a little more urgency than the last kiss. ]
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He shakes his head, searching for words that never come. Instead, he tilts his face enough to press a kiss to the corner of Carver's mouth. Soft, almost gentle. Then, he seeks out more, something firmer since he really can't remember the last time they had a moment like this together. ]
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They always collide in the end, don’t they?
Carver sighs into the kiss and then he returns it, reaching up to cup a hand to Larus’s cheek. Pulling him close. ]
Don’t change the subject, [ he murmurs. ]
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I'm not starving, [ is all he says, which is closer to a half-truth. ] You don't have to take care of me.
[ If anything, Larus should be doing that for him. ]
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[ This thing cuts both ways, doesn’t it? Carver feels the drag of Larus’s teeth, that rising edge, but it doesn’t draw blood. He rubs his thumb along the line of Larus’s cheek, watching him. ]
Like you look after me.
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It should be a warning that, inevitably, they're going to hurt one another. It should be something they stop doing, but it's beyond the time for that now. They'd missed that window months ago. All of it is so complicated, and he hates that it is. ]
You can't say that when I haven't done a very good job of it.
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[ Carver smiles faintly. What a pair they make. Even now, he wonders what he's doing. What either of them are doing. But they haven't killed each other, not yet. How many times has he tried to stab Larus?
Too many. But it shifted at some point. Became something more complicated.
He leans in and kisses Larus again. Slow this time, and thoroughly. ]
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He sighs, nudging their noses together. ]
I've missed you, [ Larus says, low and soft. It's as honest as he can be right now. ]
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I did, too, [ he admits softly. ] That scares me sometimes.
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Why? [ These are things they never talk about. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ As if that's actually a choice he can make. ]
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People always turn on each other, [ he says, very softly. ] It’s just what they do. But you — I don’t think you will. Not on purpose.
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I told you I wouldn't. [ That, too, he says just as softly. ] I don't know why that scares you.
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He has no roadmap for this except what he had with Riley, and they didn’t know what they were doing. They didn’t try to hurt each other but they did. It ended how it ended. And now this is in front of him, and Carver doesn’t know what to do with it.
That’s a little fucked up, isn’t it? ]
I don’t know what to do with it, [ he admits, very quietly. ]
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You don't have to do anything with it. [ That's always how he'd seen it. ] Some things just are.
[ Larus tilts his head then, still close but with enough distance so he can look at him. ]
But you're not alone. [ It's almost a whisper. ] I want to be with you.
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Like Larus said. Some things just are. ]
So we just…are?
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It feels as if nothing is more complicated than this. ]
I don't know. Is that all you want?
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I don’t know what else there is. I don’t do this.
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Neither do I. [ He's still inexperienced in a lot of ways. ] It can be whatever we want it to be.
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Carver shifts so he can loop an arm around Larus’s shoulders, just tugging him close. ]
Okay.
[ At least they’re in this together. ]
You fixed my hand up. Let me help you.
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It's Carver he's worried about. ]
I didn't do much. [ He rests a hand against the other man's chest. ] I can't take that from you.
[ But he thinks, in the end, he might. ]
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[ This part, at least, is simple. Carver leans in and presses their foreheads together, breathing out. Things happen, but this is a choice. ]
You can.
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There's a quiet exhale. ]
Just a little. [ And then, they wouldn't have to talk about it anymore. ]
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I can run you a line. Or open up a cut on my arm. Yeah?
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You can't control it if you cut yourself open. I don't need much.
[ It's the only way Larus can convince himself that this is fine, and after a moment, he kisses Carver again because he wants to. ]
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Too many. And yet.
Carver nuzzles against Larus, and kisses him back. Slow, and careful. There’s an intimacy to this thing, isn’t there? ]
Then I’ll run a line. I know how to do it.
[ He’s done it for Larus before. ]
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They've done all of this before. They've shared these things with each other. ]
I know.
[ But Larus doesn't give him a chance to move, kissing him harder and with a little more urgency than the last kiss. ]
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