blueshit | Inbox for Reparacija

[ 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.

[ Whatever this is, it feels simpler now. When there's enough weed in the mix to take the edge off. Cut away the tension. Carver knows what he is, what he does. He's not good with strangers anymore. Can't trust them and doesn't want to, and his brothers and sisters don't touch much to start with so that means he doesn't touch people much. You can fall out of practice with a thing like that. But Jesse hasn't, is the thing. There's something so goddam sincere in the look he's giving Carver. The way he drags his fingers and then pulls back.

Carver huffs out a breath. Centering himself. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Slow. Like you're showing off.

Okay.

He tips his head to one side, then the other. Always, always watching Jesse. But then he reaches for his own shirt, lifting it slow. Baring his stomach, and the scars there. He takes his time. It feels clumsy, maybe. But he watches Jesse with the same sort of intensity and that -

That makes it okay, he thinks. ]

[ He hadn't known if Carver would go for it. Yeah, he'd asked...or rather, told Jesse to tell him what he wanted. But that's one thing, and actually obeying when Jesse basically tells him to do a striptease is something else entirely.

He does it, though. He doesn't say a word, just considers it for a moment before he starts peeling off his shirt, an inch at a time. Jesse normally isn't into slow - why wait to get to the good stuff? - but Carver keeps his eyes on him, locked the whole time, and Jesse finds his breath catching, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd been hard before, but now it's almost painful. Fuck. He doesn't even know what he wants, exactly, just that he wants it bad. ]

Yeah.

[ It comes out raspy. He doesn't know what he's saying. But Carver's still looking at him, silent and obeying. Jesse jerks his head in a nod, trying to get ahold of himself, to keep his cool. ]

Like that.

[ He reaches a hand out, just as slow, flicking his eyes back up to Carver's in a silent bid for approval before he makes contact, his fingertips brushing ever so lightly against his scars, tracing the paths they make over Carver's stomach. ]

[ It's not like Carver doesn't know what he looks like. He's strong and he's been eating good here, so he's fit. He's got his mom's thick hair and he's been lucky, hasn't taken any scars to the face. When he wants to, he can move like he's putting on a show. Control the momentum. Turn it how he wants. But people don't usually look at him like this. There's no fear in Jesse's eyes, no hate, none of that twisting energy that comes during a brutal fight.

He tips his head back, flexing his stomach as Jesse touches him. Tracing out scars.

It tickles, a little. But it feels good. Like something electric.

He shrugs his shirt off. Lets it fall. His eyes never leave Jesse's. ]

[ Shit. Jesse's not used to giving orders, much less having them obeyed, but the way Carver wordlessly watches him as he pulls his shirt off and reveals himself has him flushing with need and a heady, unexpected feeling of power. Carver looks at him like he's the only other person in the world, like nothing else exists, and Jesse can't decide whether it's terrifying or exhilarating.

He gets a little braver, sliding his hand up to Carver's chest, mapping out the ridges of his ribs and muscles under his fingers. ]

Pants too.

Take 'em off.

[ Like before, Carver allows it. Lets Jesse trail his fingers along his edges, trace out the shape of what he finds. Skin and scars and for a moment it's almost too close. There's supposed to be distance. Anyone who gets close is a threat and if you let them, you deserve what's done to you.

It's always Pope's voice he hears. Ringing true.

Carver twitches a little, catching Jesse's wrist. But he doesn't jerk away, or shove Jesse back. Just holds it, watching Jesse intently, and then reaches for his belt. Letting it click as he undoes it. ]

[ Oops. Too far? Jesse stills when Carver catches his wrist, curling his fingers in and away from Carver's skin. He doesn't pull back, though. It's only when Carver lets go of him to undo his belt that he withdraws his hand, settling it almost subconsciously on his own neglected cock. ]

Yeah.

[ Again, he says it softly, eyes traveling down to Carver's belt and then back up to meet his eyes as he gives himself a slow stroke. ]

All the way off.

I wanna see how hard you are.

[ Carver eyes Jesse, waiting for the trick. Suspicion is second nature, the easiest state of being. You have to be on guard, always, always. And it's already been proven he can't trust anyone in this place. Dixon is here. That only ends one way. But it's hard to take his eyes off Jesse then, the way he touches himself slow, and Carver can't quite say why. He knows better. He's not some dumb fucking teenager getting off for the first time. And yet -

And yet.

Carver doesn't say a word. He just stands up, deliberately, and pulls the zipper down. His boots are laced too tight to step out of easily but there's a part of him that wants to just strip down. Pull Jesse close and touch him fucking everywhere. He lifts his chin, almost a challenge, and pulls his cock out. Gives it a light stroke, just to do it, relieve some of the pressure. He's hard enough. ]

[ Oh yeah. He's hard enough. Jesse's breath actually catches when Carver pulls his dick out of his pants and touches himself. He's right at eye level, Jesse sitting on the bed in front of him, and for a moment all Jesse can do is stare, eyes wide at the sight filling his vision. ]

Like that.

[ The affirmation seems to be working for him. He's not complaining, at least, and he's doing what he's told, so Jesse figures he might as well stick with it. He reaches up to curl his fingers around the loosened waistband of Carver's pants and the boxers underneath, not pulling down just yet, just holding there, as his eyes flick back up to his face. ]

You want me to suck you off?

[ Because, fuck. With Carver standing there with his hand wrapped around himself, thick and hard right in front of Jesse's face, how the hell is he supposed to be able to think about anything else? ]

[ Yeah. That's a hell of a look right there. It's been a long time since anyone's looked at him like that, so obviously wanting, and with nothing undercutting it. No blade in hand, no game to play. He couldn't do this with someone from home, Carver realizes suddenly. There'd be too much there. It wouldn't feel like this.

It never occurred to him that he'd want it to.

He holds there for a moment, watching Jesse. Touching himself almost idly. ]

Yeah.

[ It comes out rough. He does want that, suddenly. ]

[ Jesse just nods. He hasn't had so much as a drop of aphrodisiac, and yet despite that he's flushed and wanting, his breaths coming faster and shallower. Something about the way Carver just stands there, not saying a word but watching Jesse with his whole focus, still casually holding himself in one hand -

It's a good thing he says yes, that's all. Jesse doesn't know what he would have done otherwise. He reaches eagerly for Carver's length, but the hand he wraps around him is gentle. He starts small, closing his lips just around the head of his cock, swirling his tongue around him and getting the taste of him. It's more of a tease than anything, and a chance for Carver to adjust. ]

[ It's been a long time since he's done anything like this. Years - he can't even remember the last. Even before the world ended, Carver didn't slow down with people. He just got drunk, fucked around, bounced after. Didn't want to think about it, couldn't stand to be around other people long enough to know them - or worse, let them know anything about him. And then he stopped doing that, and there was nothing except for those small, desperate moments when he finally got so goddamn lonely he just -

There were moments. And then there weren't. Nothing like this, though. Slow, and careful in a way he isn't used to. The last time -

Last time was with Riley, Carver realizes suddenly, before the world ended. And they were different men. None of them anything like Jesse. Maybe that's for the best. Maybe that's the only reason he can stand this now. And he reaches out, cups a hand to Jesse's cheek, smooths a thumb along the line of his jaw. Fond, almost. It feels good. He exhales slowly, and nods. Okay.

Yeah. They can do this. ]

[ He keeps his eyes open, raised to look at Carver's face, even as he closes his mouth over him. He needs to see his expression, make sure he's okay with this. Not just okay. He wants him to like this.

And he does, it looks like, judging from the way he nods, cupping the side of his face in one hand. Jesse shivers when Carver's thumb brushes over his jaw, and takes a deep breath through his nose. He grips Carver a little more firmly in one hand and opens his throat up, taking him in slow and deep, an inch at a time. All the way until he can't take him any deeper, until the head of Carver's cock is hitting the back of his throat, and then he starts to move, still slow and careful, bobbing his head back and forth. ]

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