blueshit | Inbox for Reparacija

[ 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...

[ Normally, Carver would snap at Jesse for just leaving a joint on his furniture - for making a mess - but Jesse's touching him, hands on his neck and tipping his head back, rocking against him, and it just -

Things shift, a little. Carver bites off a groan and knocks their foreheads together, setting his own joint aside because fuck.

Fuck. It feels easier now, somehow. ]

Do that again.

[ That's not a request, it's an order. Jesse grins in delight. If Carver's into this enough to be demanding more...yeah, that sounds like a victory to him.

He rolls his hips again, still slow and deliberate, bracing himself with his hands on Carver's shoulders. ]

Like - ughhh - like that?

Fuck—

[ Yeah. Okay. That works. Carver arches into it, dragging his hands up Jesse’s sides and then back down to his hips. Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to feel. He likes Jesse’s hands on his shoulders, bracing, something real.

Somehow, it’s easier to focus this time. To avoid getting tangled up on his own racing thoughts.

He hooks a hand around Jesse’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. Harder, this time. Maybe that’s the trick, not hesitating so much. Just going for it. ]

Like that, [ he agrees. ]

Okay.

[ Like that. He can do that. Jesse smiles softly, briefly, then crushes his lips against Carver's again, kissing him hard and messy as he rocks his hips a little harder, a little more insistently. Shit. He shudders, his fingers curling, nails digging into Carver's shoulders. ]

You want - ghh - you wanna keep going like this?

[ He's breathing harder now, his skin a little flushed. He could keep going like this till he creams right in his shorts. No problem. And that would be fine. Maybe good, even, so long as Carver keeps kissing him, dragging his hands over Jesse's skin, looking at him like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. But he wants to give Carver the choice. Just in case he wants more. ]

[ It's tempting just to say yes, fuck it, keep doing that but do it more. It feels good and not many things do, and Carver's head has finally chilled the fuck out enough for him to settle, enough that he wants this. Not even as a means to an end but just a thing they're doing.

Why not?

Why the fuck not?

Carver slots a thumb against Jesse's pulse, feeling it jump. And then he puts a hand on Jesse's hip, smoothing over his pants. ]

Take these off.

[ He doesn't have a plan. Not really. This is just happening. ]

[ Yeah. Yeah, he can do that. Jesse jumps to obey immediately, like the best little soldier Carver could ask for. To be fair, it is slightly graceless and awkward. He has to get off Carver's lap in order to do it, and he slides off to the side in a little bit of a heap, scrambling to push off his boxers and kick them carelessly onto the floor. His dick pops up like a jack-in-the-box the minute he shoves the waistband of his boxers down over it - if he hadn't been fully hard before, the commanding tone of Carver's voice and the way he'd pressed a thumb against his pulse point had pushed him firmly over the edge.

He doesn't climb back up on top of him right away, though. Instead, he just turns a little to face Carver, one hand drifting down to pluck at the waistband of his own pants. ]

You too.

[ He flicks his eyes up to meet Carver's, and grins. ]

Fair's fair, right?

[ Yeah. That's a look, isn't it? Carver tips his head back, taking it all in. The way Jesse moves, how his dick springs up. No mistaking that. Carver wants to make him whimper. Isn't that a hell of a thing?

He reaches out, cupping a hand to the back of Jesse's neck and squeezing faintly. ]

Tell me how you want it. And I will.

[ Jesse swallows faintly when he feels Carver's hand on the back of his neck. He doesn't look eager, like Jesse feels - no ripping clothes off, no kisses desperate enough to bruise. But there's an intensity in his gaze, a careful deliberation of his movements, that makes Jesse feel even more naked than he is. Like Carver can see not only him, but exactly what's going on in his head.

He bites his lower lip, thinking, blue eyes fixed on Carver's dark ones. Then he dips the tips of his fingers briefly beneath the waistband of Carver's pants, only to slide his hand back up again, sliding it up Carver's ribcage and then pulling it away, so they're not touching at all. ]

Take 'em off slow.

Like you're showing off.

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