[Lance has given it the week, trying not to fret over Nate in the meantime, but now--]
Hey. I know you probably don't want to talk, but if you do, I'm always here.
Hey. I know you probably don't want to talk, but if you do, I'm always here.
You're not a coward. You just chose to enjoy the time you had with him, and that's okay.
Forgiving him is still something you can do, if you decide you want to. It's something that often feels like it requires the other person, but it doesn't; it's one of those things that's entirely about how you feel. Sometimes talking to the other person helps, if they're able to give you answers you need, but sometimes they can't do that even if you have the opportunity to talk to them.
Yeah, it's exhausting.
I don't plan on it, but that goes for you too.
I don't plan on it, but that goes for you too.
( There's another soft spark of pleasure -- that Nate feels charmed, that the appeal is undeniably written in what's rolling off of him. He doesn't get to spend much time basking in smugness, not when the same shock Nate feels passes straight down Ian's spine and unfurls low in his belly. A similar feeling echoes back, warm and sweet and sharp.
He breathes a laugh into the scarce few inches between their mouths. )
Good.
( He'd be worried if you could concentrate on anything else right now. His palms stray down to either side of Nate's waist, planting themselves firmly and gently tugging them forward.
Connected as they are, it's impossible to miss that he's delighted by teasing, by the reaction he gets out of it. Clear as hell that's the motivator that has him nudging in a little more, dipping in a little farther to almost-barely-kinda-sorta graze Nate's top lip with his. Not quite enough to catch a kiss. )
He breathes a laugh into the scarce few inches between their mouths. )
Good.
( He'd be worried if you could concentrate on anything else right now. His palms stray down to either side of Nate's waist, planting themselves firmly and gently tugging them forward.
Connected as they are, it's impossible to miss that he's delighted by teasing, by the reaction he gets out of it. Clear as hell that's the motivator that has him nudging in a little more, dipping in a little farther to almost-barely-kinda-sorta graze Nate's top lip with his. Not quite enough to catch a kiss. )
( Well that's a successful retaliation. Only takes one roll of the hips to notice Ian's plenty hard between them; the pressure and friction sends a quick flush of pleasure-excitement through his skin and into Nate's. The spike of want is clear, but so is the swell of giddiness and amusement.
Yep, sorry, that's something that transcends the Aerie - even though he's mainly being that guy right now. Ian, regardless of the version, gets off just a little on tormenting him. His impatience and frustration add to that densely forming mass of momentum in him. Another laugh slips from his throat in stuttered breaths, a little more audible this time. )
Why? Are you in a hurry?
( Just an offhand, too-casual question as he noses his way up Nate's cheekbone and back again. Nothing to see here.
Another quick dip, this time just to nip at Nate's lower lip once. )
Yep, sorry, that's something that transcends the Aerie - even though he's mainly being that guy right now. Ian, regardless of the version, gets off just a little on tormenting him. His impatience and frustration add to that densely forming mass of momentum in him. Another laugh slips from his throat in stuttered breaths, a little more audible this time. )
Why? Are you in a hurry?
( Just an offhand, too-casual question as he noses his way up Nate's cheekbone and back again. Nothing to see here.
Another quick dip, this time just to nip at Nate's lower lip once. )
( God only knows how long he'd drag it out, maybe not much longer, jury's out. He likes the build-up, he likes the game, he likes everything he's getting from Nate and knowing exactly what that is when it happens. He fucking loves the back and forth of heat that just keeps sending pulses of feeling through him, so odds are it'd be at least a little longer.
And then Nate goes and says that, and wraps a hand around him, and his brain short circuits with an audible click coming from the back of his throat. Just a pointless, meaningless; )
Kk-
( Quickly followed by a sharp flood of breath rushing out of his lungs.
Congratulations, you win, all thoughts of teasing are immediately gone. It feels so good it's kind of sharp, and Nate's rewarded for his decision with Ian finally ducking in to catch his lips in a real and proper kiss. )
And then Nate goes and says that, and wraps a hand around him, and his brain short circuits with an audible click coming from the back of his throat. Just a pointless, meaningless; )
Kk-
( Quickly followed by a sharp flood of breath rushing out of his lungs.
Congratulations, you win, all thoughts of teasing are immediately gone. It feels so good it's kind of sharp, and Nate's rewarded for his decision with Ian finally ducking in to catch his lips in a real and proper kiss. )
( See, and that's the goal, isn't it? Nate's horny, things are staying light, they're not bogged down by the neurotic mess that is Ian's internal monologue, and nobody gets hurt. Nate laughs, and it feels like direct affirmation that he's doing this right. It's satisfying the way fixing something is satisfying.
He pulses heavy and hard in Nate's hand, and he channels the feeling into a shaky exhale he mutes down to something just audible enough to show that it's right, that it's good. Muffled but encouraging. He pulls away from Nate's mouth to tuck that sound into his neck, the stretch of skin between shoulder and ear. In the Aerie, he cataloged all the things that could pull a reaction out of Nate. He's got a route mapped out in his head, a course from this point to the end point with three or four branches splitting off as potential deviations.
All of it starts with warm, open-mouthed kissing along his neck, down his throat. Easy, guaranteed, not even a question, the correct answer. He's had an excellently practiced technique even before the Aerie's experience helping him nail down what Nate likes -- he knows the right combination of gentle suction, of softly passing lips, of slightly harder teeth. A well-choreographed dance, an almost exact science based on a dozen previous partners and modified to fit the unique element that is Nate's preferences. )
He pulses heavy and hard in Nate's hand, and he channels the feeling into a shaky exhale he mutes down to something just audible enough to show that it's right, that it's good. Muffled but encouraging. He pulls away from Nate's mouth to tuck that sound into his neck, the stretch of skin between shoulder and ear. In the Aerie, he cataloged all the things that could pull a reaction out of Nate. He's got a route mapped out in his head, a course from this point to the end point with three or four branches splitting off as potential deviations.
All of it starts with warm, open-mouthed kissing along his neck, down his throat. Easy, guaranteed, not even a question, the correct answer. He's had an excellently practiced technique even before the Aerie's experience helping him nail down what Nate likes -- he knows the right combination of gentle suction, of softly passing lips, of slightly harder teeth. A well-choreographed dance, an almost exact science based on a dozen previous partners and modified to fit the unique element that is Nate's preferences. )
( He gets a split-second of warning through the bond. That weird sudden awareness that Nate feels, passing straight through his skin into Ian's. That's the only reason he isn't outright startled when Nate freezes up, but there's no fully fending off the little slip of confusion and tiny flit of nerves that he smooths over quickly with that static blanket. )
Um.
( Sorry, give him a second, there's a hand around his dick and he was kind of mapping out a voyage in his brain that involved a lot of nudity. It takes him a second to switch gears. )
Filing... my taxes?
( Breathy-amused, coupled with a kind of pointed look down between their bodies for a second.
What does it look like he's doing, man? )
Um.
( Sorry, give him a second, there's a hand around his dick and he was kind of mapping out a voyage in his brain that involved a lot of nudity. It takes him a second to switch gears. )
Filing... my taxes?
( Breathy-amused, coupled with a kind of pointed look down between their bodies for a second.
What does it look like he's doing, man? )
( There's a creeping vine of discomfort that starts crawling across his chest when Nate starts searching his face. The low, subconscious notion that he knows what Nate's talking about, he's just trying really hard not to acknowledge it.
And then there's that witty analogy, and a flare of offense-defensiveness-amusementbecauseokayshutupbutstill. )
What is it with you and The Girl From Ipanema?
( Because that's the part he should be fixated on. His own hands drop down a little - not away, just retracting so only his fingertips remain, lightly pressed to either of Nate's sides. )
Why does it feel like that's the fourth time that's come up?
( He's... hedging. Obviously. )
And then there's that witty analogy, and a flare of offense-defensiveness-amusementbecauseokayshutupbutstill. )
What is it with you and The Girl From Ipanema?
( Because that's the part he should be fixated on. His own hands drop down a little - not away, just retracting so only his fingertips remain, lightly pressed to either of Nate's sides. )
Why does it feel like that's the fourth time that's come up?
( He's... hedging. Obviously. )
( Honestly, almost any other reaction might have him doubling down. Accusation, interrogation, he'd probably be retreating even harder into himself.
But no, he's feeling anxiety rolling off of Nate in waves -- it's enough to tug on the guilty strings of his heart, which in turn cracks the door for some of his own anxiety to echo back. )
No, I'm not- it's not... like that.
( He puffs out an exhale. Pulls one hand away to scrub over his beard and then push wet strands of hair back away from his face. )
I'm here, I'm just... trying not to be... too... here. I mean, like- mentally. Wait, no, that's not... I don't mean that how it sounds.
( Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Nailing it. )
But no, he's feeling anxiety rolling off of Nate in waves -- it's enough to tug on the guilty strings of his heart, which in turn cracks the door for some of his own anxiety to echo back. )
No, I'm not- it's not... like that.
( He puffs out an exhale. Pulls one hand away to scrub over his beard and then push wet strands of hair back away from his face. )
I'm here, I'm just... trying not to be... too... here. I mean, like- mentally. Wait, no, that's not... I don't mean that how it sounds.
( Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Nailing it. )
( They have a lot of scars between them to talk about.
He feels like a fucking asshole. Drops his hands the rest of the way away, not necessarily because he wants to cut Nate out so much as it's just unconscious instinct to try and reel himself in when he's feeling any one thing too strongly. Guilt, in this case. Self-directed frustration at doing exactly the thing he was trying to avoid doing.
Fuck. )
Ah... ( A beat, while he considers how to answer that question. ) The Aerie. Maybe.
( That might not even be the right answer, it's more complicated. Harder to articulate, and he follows it up with barely a second in between tracks. )
Look, I'm sorry. I am, I'm not... I'm not checked out, or... like, thinking of England. I'm just trying to stay-- the version that doesn't overthink things into the fucking ground and accidentally kill the whole thing. Which... ironically... accidentally killed the whole thing, so it's not you, it's-- oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm not even gonna finish that sentence. This, right now, see, this is... a really compelling example of my point, I think.
He feels like a fucking asshole. Drops his hands the rest of the way away, not necessarily because he wants to cut Nate out so much as it's just unconscious instinct to try and reel himself in when he's feeling any one thing too strongly. Guilt, in this case. Self-directed frustration at doing exactly the thing he was trying to avoid doing.
Fuck. )
Ah... ( A beat, while he considers how to answer that question. ) The Aerie. Maybe.
( That might not even be the right answer, it's more complicated. Harder to articulate, and he follows it up with barely a second in between tracks. )
Look, I'm sorry. I am, I'm not... I'm not checked out, or... like, thinking of England. I'm just trying to stay-- the version that doesn't overthink things into the fucking ground and accidentally kill the whole thing. Which... ironically... accidentally killed the whole thing, so it's not you, it's-- oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm not even gonna finish that sentence. This, right now, see, this is... a really compelling example of my point, I think.
No, no, I know, I'm not.
( It's calmer, quieter, but confident. He shifts, backing out of Nate's space - not to leave but to pivot, pressing his back against the wall and curling his hands around the rail. Shoulder to shoulder instead of chest to chest, so he can breathe out and rest his head against the tile while he fumbles through articulation. )
I know we're different, I've been... kind of keeping that in my head this whole time, trying not to like... I don't know, like cheat on a test? It's not-- that, that I'm trying to be. It's not... who we were that I'm...
( Why the fuck is it so hard to explain this, why doesn't the English language have better terminology for referring to your alternate universe life? )
I'm just-- trying to be who I was because I wasn't a neurotic fucking mess there. Here, I'm pretty sure as soon as we start, I'm gonna... I don't know, feel feelings and freak myself out about feeling feelings, and then feel bad that you can feel me freaking out about feeling feelings, and then wind up feeling feelings about that...
( A breath, an almost-laugh except there's no humor, just kind of a long-suffering self-mockery. )
And I just... really wanted to have sex with you in the shower.
( It's calmer, quieter, but confident. He shifts, backing out of Nate's space - not to leave but to pivot, pressing his back against the wall and curling his hands around the rail. Shoulder to shoulder instead of chest to chest, so he can breathe out and rest his head against the tile while he fumbles through articulation. )
I know we're different, I've been... kind of keeping that in my head this whole time, trying not to like... I don't know, like cheat on a test? It's not-- that, that I'm trying to be. It's not... who we were that I'm...
( Why the fuck is it so hard to explain this, why doesn't the English language have better terminology for referring to your alternate universe life? )
I'm just-- trying to be who I was because I wasn't a neurotic fucking mess there. Here, I'm pretty sure as soon as we start, I'm gonna... I don't know, feel feelings and freak myself out about feeling feelings, and then feel bad that you can feel me freaking out about feeling feelings, and then wind up feeling feelings about that...
( A breath, an almost-laugh except there's no humor, just kind of a long-suffering self-mockery. )
And I just... really wanted to have sex with you in the shower.
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