TLV Inbox

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

voice . text . video . action

Comments

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He shakes his head, eyes still closed. "I know I can." That's important, he thinks, to say. He does flinch at the sound of the thump, out of sight, but it's almost involuntary; he doesn't seem to notice.

"It ain't that. It's - I never cared about what I looked like before. Just - seems like a lie when you like looking at me, even though I know it's not."

[pharadyne]

[Norton opens the door to let them in, and as soon as it's closed again he kneels down to pet Mae and bury his fingers in the ruff of her coat. He didn't think to ask Jacob to bring her, but he's glad he did.]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He thought she might help. He locks the door and drags a chair over so he can keep watch over it.]

How are you doing?

[pharadyne]

Wretched, but I'm not dead, so it could be worse. And I can remember everything that happened, which is better than having gaps of missing time where you want to know what happened but are afraid to find out.

[He presses his face into Mae's fur for a moment.]

I'm a bit disappointed that with no memories and barely any sense of self my first impulse was to stab something. I would've liked to have been cleverer than that.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Stab something? What the hell happened?

[He looks over his shoulder at him.]

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

"That's what I like," she answers, reaching forward to lay her palm across his chest. Over his heart.

She leaves it there as she carefully insinuates herself into the space in front of him, uses her other hand to move first one of his, then the other, back up to her hips. Even blind he'll notice that there's much more skin available to him now: she's still wearing her pants, but her shirt is gone.

"People who only care about what they look like are nice to look at, but there's nothing underneath. You're... you, Jacob. You're the man you are, no more, no less," she murmurs as she slides across his lap, letting him steady her, letting body heat collect between them where they touch and where they don't.

[pharadyne]

I was put in a dungeon and given a test to try to save a woman I couldn't get to and also there was a monster. I got scared and stabbed the monster with a bed.

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He draws her in as soon as he can touch, but doesn't dare move his hand to explore any more than what she's given him now.

"Don't know how to be anyone else," he tells her, raising his head up towards her voice. "You're a goddamn goddess to me sometimes, you know. Like you fell right out of a real good dream I had once." He shifts underneath her, wanting more but enjoying where they're at right now.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He just stares at him, then back at the door.]

Good. [There is so much paternal pride packed into that one word.]

That's fucked up.

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

She settles, legs hooked outside his, and for a moment she's glad for the willing blindfold, too; she has no idea what her face is doing when he says that, and for a moment she doesn't know how to even respond. She doesn't have to, though, and she gives herself the time to kiss his collarbone, a scar on his shoulder, the center of his chest. To reach up and pull her fingers through his hair again, unobstructed by the blindfold this time.

"I'm just me," she finally says, like a helpless shrug. "Same as you."

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"No, I mean it," he says, his fingers lightly pressing against the skin more freely this time. "You blew me off the last time I said it but it's the same now."

He keeps his chin tilted back, his chest tight against him.

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

"Because like you said - feels like a lie," she manages.

Rosita Espinosa, you are damn near perfection.

"It's the kind of shit people usually say to me when they want me to ignore something else. Like that they're thinking of someone else."

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, well, I ain't thinking of anyone else. Just you, Ro. And you - fuck, you do so much for me, you know." He taps his fingers against her skin, obeying the rules, even now, because this doesn't feel any less intimate than sex.

"Maybe you don't know."

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

She's torn. She didn't mean to lead them to this in particular, but she wasn't completely clueless, was she? She knew the direction she was headed in. She knew the hunch she had.

"You can touch," she stalls, releasing his hands back to whatever he wants to do with them, anyway. Tipping her hips forward anyway, seating them more closely together.

"I'm just me. Same as you," is what she ends up repeating, because that, too, is true.

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He slides his hands behind her back, just keeping her there with him. "I know that."

He leans forward, pressing a kiss between her breasts as she moves forward.

"Your turn. What are you thinking?"

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

"Too much," she admits, and little enough of it fair to Jacob. Too much, and little enough applicable.

She lets him kiss her, though he'll feel the boundaries of fabric where she's still wearing her bra. She shivers faintly, reactive to the cold even when she's not actively thinking about it.

"Wondering if you want a turn?" she finally decides, arms over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You want that?" he asks, almost hopefully. He opens his eyes to look up at her. "Cuz I'm not gonna say no to it."

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

"I didn't say you could open your eyes," she reminds him, her smile crooked.

"But it's okay." It was just an experiment - a success, she thinks, and she leans down to kiss him, brief but sweet.

"My safeword is dulce. I've used the stoplight system, too, whichever makes you feel more comfortable." She doesn't move otherwise just yet, though. "The shirt I was using is on the bed. Tell me what you want me to do."

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He doesn't feel admonished for it, but he just couldn't help it. So he leans in and kisses her shoulder before sitting back.

"Your turn to sit in the chair, I think," he says, giving her a little nudge.

"Tell me the stoplight system. I think I can guess but - just to make sure."

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

"It's a way to check in, before things get to needing to use the safeword," she answers, sliding off his lap so they can switch places.

"Green means everything is good, keep going. Yellow means slow down, or go carefully, or unsure, but don't necessarily stop. Red is stop - sometimes altogether, or sometimes go back to the last green, or do something different."

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He stands up and brushes his fingers along her shoulders as he walks. "If I had known you were going to use a blindfold, I had something in the closet." He opens the door and takes out a few strips of cloth. Backup bandages, should he need them, but the infirmary is always good at giving out first aid when needed so they're mostly just decoration in the closet.

"I get it, though. The uh - stoplight thing. It works."

He stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "Ready?"

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

"That was part of the surprise. And I still have some ideas up my sleeves."

She takes his place on the chair, watching him move until he's back beside her, looking at the fabric.

They both know that in life, and especially on the Barge, there's no predicting what will happen next - but there's something more immediately urgent in knowing that he is planning something, however mild, and she's agreeing to it carte blanche.

She nods, hands in her lap. "Green."

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Alright."

He ties the cloth around her face, knotting it firmly but not too tight at the back.

"Okay." He presses a kiss to her shoulder, thoughtful, before moving away and shuffling through a drawer. He turns on his music, low and country and hums to it.

"Take off the pants. Just those," he says from behind her.

Re: [Spam ]

[handleyourshit]

Rosita closes her eyes under the blindfold, and feels her mind's focus adjust accordingly. It's familiar: she's a scout, used to moving through dark buildings and terrain when necessary, among other things. She tips her head, curious, when she hears him moving and then smiles when she hears the music.

"Shall I make a show of it?" she asks, leaning back to work the button and zipper, standing to slide her jeans down slowly off her hips. Her underwear, as usual, is more functional than anything, soft black cotton boyshorts.

Re: [Spam ]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You already are, don't worry," he says, gentle laughter in his voice.

When she settles, he contemplates her a moment. "Bra next. You can make that one a show, though."