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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

No skin off my ass if you do.

[He reaches down, unbuttoning his pants, glad he left the gun on the table.]

I've noticed that everyone just loves to fuck on this ship anyway.

[pharadyne]

It's that or talk about feelings and who wants to do that?

[He leans in, then pauses, glances over at Mae.]

I can't do this with the dog watching, could you tell her to...I don't know...go lie on the bed or something like that?

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He laughs, snapping his fingers and gesturing towards to ther room. Mae happily trots off to find a less imposing corner to sit in.]

Better?

You need a blanket to sit your delicate fucking knees on, too?

[pharadyne]

So kind of you to consider my comfort, darling, but no, my knees are fine. I used to be an altar boy so I have lots of practice kneeling. Because of all the praying, I mean.

[And now that Mae isn't around to judge him, Norton eagerly sets himself to the task, starting with a long, slow swipe of his tongue.]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He sits back in the chair, tapping his finger on the glass.]

Fucking Catholic. Dad used to call them heathens.

No offense.

[He slides his other hand through Norton's hair as his eyes close, imagining long brown waves or silver curls. If he lets his mind wander, he can finally fucking feel something.]

[pharadyne]

Church of England. [Norton pauses to correct Jacob and then gets back to his work, gliding his lips over the head and bobbing up and down with enthusiasm. It's one of the few things that will keep Norton quiet for any length of time.]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[Jacob tightens his grip in his hair when Norton pulls away. But he can feel himself responding, warmth spreading from his core.]

Don't talk. Ruins the fucking mood.

[Because he can't imagine Norton as anyone else if he talks.]

[pharadyne]

[It's not remotely the strangest or most unreasonable request someone has made to him during sex. It's not even the first time someone has made that specific request. (Even though, in his opinion, there's nothing wrong with his voice and people who claim that it's squeaky are clearly incorrect.)

So he remains silent as he swirls his tongue around Jacob's crown, then slides his lips all the way down until the tip of his nose brushes the hairs at his groin, then returns back up to repeat the maneuver a few times.]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He's quiet, but clearly pleased, digging fingers into his hair. Jacob lets oblivion take him again, lets the world fade around him so he doesn't have to think or move or dream. He can exist in this moment of pleasure until, with a shudder and a groan, he pulls his hair as a warning, giving him that much courtesy, before he finishes.

And then it's over and he's back to himself, fucking hating it.]

[pharadyne]

[Norton sits back on his heels and daintily wipes his mouth.]

Good?

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He waves a hand, then tucks himself back into his pants.]

Yeah. Good.

[He does take a long drink to finish the glass, trying to get himself out of his own head.]

How come I didn't get this treatment as a temp, huh?

[pharadyne]

[Norton shrugs.] I suppose because you didn't dare me to when you were a temp.

[He stands up, knees a bit more creaky than he'd like, and settles himself back on the settee. His trousers are feeling uncomfortably tight, but he can ignore than for now.]

I expect the chances of any further serious conversation tonight is well and truly blown...no pun intended.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[Unintended or not, it gets a laugh.]

Yeah, I think that chance is fucked.

[Pun certainly intended.]

Not that I am real keen on talking shit out with you.

[But at least he's not - angry. Not at Norton, at least. His posture reflects that now. Even his tone stays a little teasing.]

[pharadyne]

To be honest, most of the time I'd rather stick my head in an oven than talk about feelings. But I need the Admiral deal.

[Norton doesn't see the need to pretend that there's no self-interest motivating him as a warden. And he suspects Jacob would respect honest self-interest more than a pretense of altruism.]

Right now, though, I'm more inclined to just get sozzled and watch a film if you're keen.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Fuck. Yes. That one. Let's do that one.

[The port can wait. Everything can wait. He just wants to sit here, get exceptionally drunk, and pretend like he's not here on the Barge. Pretend that the outside world doesn't exist."

[pharadyne]

Bring a few more bottles over from the liquor cabinet. I'll choose a film.

[Nothing about war, nothing about trauma, nothing too deep since they'll be drunk. He decides on The Seven Year Itch.]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He pushes himself up and finds a few bottles, bringing them over and placing them on the table, refilling glasses for both of them.]

What'd you pick?

Marilyn? [He raises his glass.]

Sinful.

[pharadyne]

Not for me. [Which is just as well since the erection he acquired sucking off Jacob is thankfully starting to go down.]

Sometimes I think it would be nice to be a blonde bombshell. But sometimes I think it's a marvel she doesn't punch every man she meets. Or maybe that's just me projecting my teensy desire to do damage.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Put on a fucking wig and go to town, then. [He sinks down into the chair, bringing the glass to his forehead and resting it there.]

Sure there's lots of people who deserve to be hit in the face.

[pharadyne]

I can never actually do it though. Punch people. I don't have it in me. Not unless it's a real fight. I'm more about getting other people to punch people for me.

[He finishes his gin and tonic and pours himself another.]

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like No wonder John likes you under his breath, but drowns it in a drink.]

What's the difference in a real fight and not?

[pharadyne]

Well, if it's a choice between punching someone or getting hurt or murdered, of course I'm going to punch someone. And my old warden let me hit him, but that was different because he offered. It was very cathartic, actually, but can't be recreated. Kaz was special.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He takes a drink, thoughtful. That's the sort of offer he'd give someone else.]

And now you don't need it?

[pharadyne]

Hmmm, I probably do, but like I said, I don't think it can be recreated. He was good enough that I could go at him with everything I had but never actually hurt him, and he'd fight back fiercely enough to give me something real to fight against, but somehow in such a way I always felt perfectly safe even when he was hitting me back.

[Norton sighs wistfully. And has another sip of his drink.]

He was a very good warden. I'm afraid I can't live up to his standard, although if he were here he'd say something terribly insightful that would reassure me. I suppose we all have our strengths. His was punching people, and mine is blowjobs.

He asked me once what would make me happy. What would make you happy?

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

[He sounds like the sort of man who Jacob could respect. He kind of hates that.

He hates the question even more.]

I don't get to be happy. Not really in the cards for me.