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[ 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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