blueshit | Inbox for Reparacija

Yeah.

[ He hadn't really wanted anything, when he'd agreed to this. It had been a favor, more than anything. Honestly, he would have agreed to just about anything, just to regain and stay in Carver's good graces.

But now? With Carver's hand solid and warm around his wrist, his eyes dark and intense as he watches Jesse?

Yeah, now he wants. Now he knows.

He leans in - it doesn't take much - and presses his lips to Carver's own. Gentle, at first. Testing, seeing how he reacts. ]

[ It’s slow. Not fearful, but careful, and that throws him more than it ought to. There’s a moment where Carver doesn’t move, and barely breathes. He could stand up and kick Jesse ought, be done with this. It wouldn’t mean anything at all.

Instead, he squeezes Jesse’s wrist and shifts to catch Jesse’s chin in his hand and kiss him back. Why not?

Why the fuck not? ]

[ Why not? This is really what he'd come here to do, in the end, isn't it? But even so, Jesse's wary of going too fast. He shifts away enough to set down his own blunt, then turns to face Carver, tilting his head up and deepening the kiss.

Just a little, at first. Sometimes it's nice to go slow, especially when he's high. And especiallywith someone like Carver, who's so tense and on edge so much of the time. Like he's always one push away from snapping in half. This doesn't have to be like that.

Jesse makes a little noise against Carver's mouth, coaxing it open with his tongue, leaning the taste and the feel of him. ]

[ Funny thing is, this part comes back easy. It's been a long time since Carver's done this, or wanted to. Not without the drugs that fuck everybody up so they can't think, can't choose, can only react. But this was a choice at the start, and he likes the noise Jesse makes. How he presses closer and deepens the kiss.

It's soft, at first. Nothing biting. How long has it been since he's done this, since he's wanted to?

Years. A lifetime, maybe.

Carver draws back for a moment, watching Jesse. Still cupping his chin. It feels like all the edges have been filed off and things are easy. He's not watching his corners. He's not even thinking about them. ]

Yeah?

[ It's easy. Good. None of the tension that's always there with Carver, not this time. The pot's taking care of that, mellowing them both out. And now Jesse just wants to touch, to feel.

He likes Carver's hand cupping his chin, the way he watches him. How careful and meticulous he is, without being shy. Jesse's breath catches when Carver pulls back to look at him, and he presses his lips together briefly, eyes wide and upturned. ]

Yeah.

[ Yeah. Definitely. ]

You want more?

[ Carver shifts so he can rub his thumb along Jesse's lip, tracing out the shape. Just to do it, just because he wants to. He likes how he can see the way Jesse's eyes change this close, how he reacts to things. This odd closeness of theirs. And then he nods because yeah, yeah he does. ]

C'mere.

[ Closer. ]

[ He hadn't known what to expect, when Carver had proposed marking off something from his sentence together. Not this. Not the way Carver traces out the shape of his lower lip with his thumb, just watching him. His mouth is suddenly dry.

Then Carver says c'mere and Jesse moves like he'd been waiting for permission, shifting closer on the bed and immediately tilting his head up to capture Carver's mouth in another kiss. His hand strays down to Carver's waist, ghosting over his shirt, and then inching down, fingers seeking a way under the hem. ]

[ Funny thing is, this doesn't feel like a chore anymore. It started out as something practical. He knows Jesse, in small ways, understands him enough to properly assess the threat he represents. Of all the people he's met in this place, Carver thinks Jesse's least likely to turn on him - yet, anyway. Everyone does in the end. So, why not? If he has to get credits, why not do it with Jesse?And maybe he thought about the time in the rain and how Jesse had looked there, staring up at him in the mud, maybe, maybe he did that. And now here they are. Jesse moves and Carver doesn't flinch, just angles his head to deepen the kiss and flexes his stomach as Jesse reaches for the hem of his shirt.

These things happen. They just happen. It's no one's fault.

He rests his hand on the side of Jesse's jaw, holding him steady, and then mirrors the gesture. Running his hand along Jesse's side and then over his stomach, seeing how he reacts. There was a time, once, when Carver knew how to make other people feel good. ]

[ Carver may still have his touch, judging from the noise Jesse makes when those fingers stroke over his stomach. It's barely anything at all, just a quiet sound, an even smaller shudder as Jesse arches forward towards the contact. His own hand finds its way under Carver's shirt, and he drags it along his skin, feeling the smoothness interrupted by scars, the rough edges.

Carver seems to be letting this happen - more than that, giving back as good as he's getting, and that's enough of a triumph in itself for Jesse to let out a sigh of contentment into Carver's mouth, relaxing a little more even as he pushes his tongue a little more insistently into Carver's mouth. ]

[ They’re making out like teenagers, Carver thinks distantly. The strange part is he doesn’t hate it. They’re just here, in proximity, and they aren’t hurting each other. That was the most he’d hoped for, really: something that at least didn’t cause pain. But this—

It’s good, Carver realizes, and hums a little as Jesse deepens the kiss. He likes the quiet noise that Jesse makes, the way it feels to touch him, and so Carver commits. He’s good at that part, at least. He commits to what he’s doing, and he runs his hands over Jesse’s sides and over the planes of his back and then down over his stomach again—and then lower, because they’ve already come this far, so why the fuck not? ]

[ He would've been horrified if he knew what Carver was thinking. Jesse never wants to hurt anybody, not if he can help it, and definitely not in bed. Not causing pain - physical or otherwise - is less than the bare minimum, as far as he's concerned.

But all Jesse knows is what he's feeling and how Carver's reacting, that quiet, approving hum followed by Carver running his hands over Jesse's torso, and then down to his lap. He's wearing his prison-issue yoga pants - he'd gotten his own clothes back on his one-month anniversary, but that's only one set, and when it comes to yoga pants or doing laundry, sometimes the yoga pants still win.

So when Carver's hand brushes over his crotch, Jesse feels it. He makes a strangled, suprised noise, but he's already raising his hips instinctively, pushing up in search of more contact. The making out is nice, and Jesse thinks he could do it for a while, but fuck, if Carver wants to escalate? Hell yeah.

He slides his hand up Carver's side under his shirt, the touch a little more firm and intentional now, and does the same on his other side, rucking up the hem of his shirt to find more skin. ]

[ He twitches, a little, but he doesn't flinch from the touch. They're beyond that now, Carver thinks, and exhales slow and steady. Jesse's hands are warm against his skin and Carver arches into it without a word. Jesse lifts his hips and that's just that, no point in hesitating. Carver hums a little, nudging his head against Jesse's, and rubs him over the yoga pants. ]

Yeah?

[ It comes out rough. He checks, but he doesn't stop. This is just happening. ]

[ The punched-out sound Jesse makes when Carver rubs a hand over him, and the way he's already growing noticably hard at the touch, should tell him all he needs to know. Jesse squirms impatiently, his hands dropping from Carver's sides to pull at his belt with sudden urgency. Forget the slow making out. He wants more and he wants it now. ]

Yeah.

[ His own voice is uncharacteristically hoarse. He swallows hard, finally yanking Carver's belt free and making quick work of his button and zipper so he can plunge a hand down inside, palming and squeezing Carver through his underwear. Only once he's got a hand on him does he think to glance up, his gaze searching Carver's face for approval, enjoyment - hopefully anything but anger. One eyebrow lifts in a silent question that doesn't stay silent for long. ]

You good?

[ Because as desperately as he suddenly needs this, he doesn't want to push Carver too far too fast. ]

[ Back home, Carver knows he wouldn't have done this - any of this. Wouldn't have taken the risk getting into proximity with another person, wouldn't have known anyone like Jesse or thought about the way he moves like this. Carver grunts out a breath, arching into it, then just says fuck it and reaches to tug those stupid fucking tights down. This is happening. ]

Yeah.

[ Mostly. It helps that he isn't drugged stupid, that he can think, that this is as much of a choice as it could be in a place like this. Neither of them have to be here but they are, they want to be, and maybe - maybe - it feels good to touch someone. To just be a person, for a little while. Maybe it feels good to do that with Jesse. ]

Yeah.

[ Jesse grins at him, sudden and wide and genuine. Yeah. Good. Carver's tugging insistently at his yoga pants and he moves to shimmy gracelessly out of them, kicking them off into a crumpled heap on the floor.

He's got boxer briefs underneath - he'd die before going the Mr. White route and running around in tighty whities - and he's half hard, straining against the fabric, as he turns to Carver to coax his down and off too, joining Jesse's on the floor. It's good, it's going good. Carver's saying yes, he's not freaking out or punching Jesse's lights out for having the balls to touch him, but even so, Jesse hesitates, watching him carefully. They're here to achieve a goal, after all. And he doesn't want to think about how pissed Carver might be if they fail on a technicality. ]

Hey...

[ He speaks softly, almost gently, eyes flicking up to meet Carver's as he strokes a hand down his side. ]

You wanna smoke another before we get started? Huh?

[ Earlier, Carver had prepared to treat this like a job. Something to be survived, and then forgotten afterward. He needs credits and if this is about as close to literal prostitution as anyone could get, fine. That's just how it goes.

It shifted, though. Didn't it? Somewhere in the middle. Now, they're just -

Here.

Carver twitches a little, stilling when Jesse does. His hands settling on Jesse's hips. There's a moment where he tenses - just for a moment - wondering if maybe it's a trick, that this is the point where things shift and it all gets fucked up. Always does, eventually. Right?

Or maybe that's just him, twisting it up. This is why no one likes him at parties, he thinks absently, and exhales slow. ]

Sure. Why the fuck not.

Awesome.

[ It can only help, right? As long as they don't get carried away. But he wants Carver relaxed, wants him to maybe even have a good time, if that's possible. He flashes Carver another grin, then eases away and off the bed to go over to where the weed and rolling papers are still sitting. Jesse's still feeling the effects of his first hit, just the faintest high. Just enough to make him nice and chill, easy as he rolls joints for him and Carver both. He's still half-hard in his boxer briefs, and he reaches his left hand down absently, giving himself a squeeze just for a little relief as he scoops up the joints and lighter with his right.

Then he's back on the bed next to Carver, passing him a joint and then offering him a light. As soon as they've both lit up and he's tossed the lighter aside, though, he's shifting closer again, draping his thighs over Carver's lap. It's maybe a little forward for this moment, not something he'd usually do, but he doesn't want them to lose momentum. Not when Carver seems to have such a hard time letting himself go and getting started in the first place. ]

[ The anxious feeling twists through him, settling in his throat, but Carver holds still. He digs his nails into his knees and straightens his back, watching Jesse. Always watching. You have to pay attention to people, keep track of them, or that'll be the moment you get stabbed or worse. So far, no one's tried to kill him in this place - not even Dixon, which is somehow the most offensive part - but Carver knows it's only a matter of time. And he cannot die stupid. Not until he does what he promised Shaw and all the others.

Not yet.

But Jesse comes back before that thought can really spiral and just climbs into Carver's lap and okay, sure. That's happening. He keeps a hand on Jesse's hip because it feels like the most normal thing he can do in this scenario, and he takes a long drag because maybe, maybe that will finally slow his brain down long enough to stop him from acting like a crazy person in front of Jesse. Or at least get them both high enough that it won't matter. It's fine.

It's fine. ]

[ Yeah. This is good. Jesse smiles when Carver settles a hand back on his hip, snuggling a little closer and getting nice and comfortable before taking a drag of his own. He holds it and breathes it out slow, feeling the remaining tension start to drain out of him.

Hopefully it works the same way for Carver. Jesse settles his free hand on his chest, stroking down slowly and flicking his eyes up to meet his. He tilts his head up, too. Not stretching his face up to close the distance between them, not quite. But offering. If Carver wants it. ]

It's good, right?

[ They just hold like that for a while, smoking like teenagers. His mother gave him hell the one time she caught him in high school; his grandma, on the other hand, hadn’t cared at all. Funny, what you think of and when. And all the while, Jesse stays, watching. Running his free hand over Carver’s chest, catching on old scars, and Carver lets him.

He squeezes Jesse’s hip. It’s not much of an answer, but trying to voice one feels too complicated. Maybe the weed hasn’t really kicked in yet. ]

Why’d you say yes?

[ It's not the first time he'd asked that, or something like it, Jesse thinks. But he pauses anyway, considering the question seriously like it's the first time.

And this time, he doesn't brush it off with a flippant non-answer. He's not sure if it's the weed or just sitting like this, pressed close in Carver's lap, the memory of that kiss still lingering, but he finds himself wanting to be honest now. More so than he normally would be. ]

Cause I like you.

[ He flicks his gaze up to Carver's face, blue eyes wide and sincere. ]

And I want you to like me too.

[ Why, Carver wants to ask, to press and press until he gets an answer that makes sense. Finds the angle that Jesse's working because there has to be an angle, a trick, something. There always is and Pope wouldn't want him to rest until he finds it, until he knows how to use it to his own advantage. It's reflexive at this point. It goes all the way down to the marrow.

Because I like you, Jesse says, and he just looks at Carver when he says it. No hesitation, no hint of anything but exactly what he says.

Carver takes another drag, watching him. One hand on Jesse's hip, drawing absent circles with his thumb. ]

I like you. Sometimes.

[ Sometimes. ]

Sometimes.

[ Jesse scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he's grinning, too. Sometimes isn't that bad, really. Not when it comes to Carver.

Holding his still-lit joint carefully to the side, he shifts a little, picking himself up so that instead of sitting with his legs stretched across Carver's lap, he's facing him, straddling him. He takes a moment just to study him, up close like that, one hand sliding up Carver's chest and over his shoulder to cup the back of his neck, fingers toying gently with the hair close to the bottom of his scalp. ]

Does sometimes include now?

[ It’s telegraphed, more or less. Jesse isn’t trying to jump him, pull a blade—Carver’s buzzed, more than before, but he’s not so far gone he wouldn’t see that shit coming. Jesse’s just doing what he’s doing, moving in closer, settling in, and Carver lets him. He drags his fingers along the line of Jesse’s hip and then up over his ribs. Just to do it, just because—maybe—he wants to. And then Jesse cups the back of his neck, and it just—

Carver closes his eyes, almost without thinking about it, and bows his head. ]

These things happen, [ he says, very softly. ] I’m here, aren’t I?

Yeah.

[ Jesse responds just as softly, blue eyes bright, watching Carver as he bows his head. He's here. He'd asked for this, and he hasn't said no yet.

He takes another long drag on his joint, then leans over to stub it out and drop it on the nearest piece of furniture - sorry, Carver. Then, with both hands free, he reaches for Carver again, cupping his neck with both hands only to slide them around under his jaw and urge him to raise his face for another kiss. He rolls his hips at the same time, grinding slow - for now - against Carver through his boxer briefs and hissing quietly against his mouth. ]

Fuck...

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