Ugh! No thank you. I guess mirrors is the least constraining one. Just do whatever the fuck you want with a mirror in the room, right? Sounds fine to me.
There's a mirror in my shipping container. Other than that only places I can think of are the gym and the bathhouse. Those are more public, obviously...which I don't really care about but some people do, so. Your call.
[ There's no further response. But he shows up when he said he would, dressed in his usual clothes - threadbare, black, a uniform from the end of the world.
[ Harley's expecting Carver to show up at some point, so the knock doesn't come as a surprise. She's sitting cross-legged on her cot in her loud-ass outfit that couldn't be farther from Carver's all black garb. She's in a hot pink sports bra with a sheer white shirt over it that reads 'harley fuckin' quinn' over and over in black lettering. Her stars & stripes adorned ripped up jean shorts have a pair of red suspenders attached, but they hang down loosely instead of being pulled over her shoulders. ]
Both kinda? I made the shorts out of some old jeans, but not here. This stuff I got back after my first month.
[ She un-crosses her legs and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, watching Carver. He's still across the room, but maybe he needs a little time to warm up. That's cool. She'll follow his lead. Unless she gets the sense that he's the type who needs a little push in the right direction. ]
[ The whole thing feels awkward and uncomfortable. Even before the world ended, casual sex wasn't his thing. Sure, there were a couple drunken hookups after his ex kicked him out - each more regrettable than the last - but Pope read him the riot act and that was that. And then there was no room for any of that after the world ended, once they started closing ranks tighter and tighter.
And then he ended up here. And needs must.
Carver sucks on his teeth, watching her intently. She's pretty - he can admit that. He noticed it from the start. It didn't matter because why would it matter? But maybe if they'd met in a bar before the world ended, he would have asked if she wanted to play darts or something. Maybe. ]
Okay. "Mirrors" is pretty open-ended. How'd you wanna play that?
[ It might seem uncomfortable, at least to Carver, but Harley's just acting casual about it. She doesn't feel weird. She's never really felt weird about sex whether she's in a relationship or just having fun for the sake of it. But she's well aware, especially after witnessing how some people are reacting to the sentencing rules of this place, that not everyone is as relaxed about it as she is.
Well, I moved the full-length mirror that was on the back of the bathroom door and propped it up over there. So. I figure it probably counts if it's, like, in the room? Where we can see it?
She gestures across from the cot, where the mirror is leaving against the wall. It's angled so she can see her reflection from the bed. That has to count, right? What else could 'mirrors' mean? ]
You want a drink or somethin' to take the edge off?
[ He seems a little less comfortable than she feels, so she figures maybe a little of the old social lubricant might help some. ]
[ Harley gestures to the cot once she gets up off of it, crossing the room to pull open the mini-fridge she'd finally been able to afford. It definitely came in handy during the food shortage, and it makes the hooch last longer. It also tastes a little less obnoxious when it's cold. She grabs a couple of plastic cups and fills both, walking back over and handing one off to Carver. ]
Okay, so. Maybe we should go over what we don't like? Y'know, avoid making things potentially uncomfortable. I know you said no bondage. Is there anything else? Or anything you're into?
[ He inclines his head to her slightly, an old politeness. It feels awkward here, an uncomfortable fit, but she’s sharing her space and her alcohol and that doesn’t mean nothing.
So, he drinks. He stays standing. It’s prison hooch so it goes down about as expected. ]
Don’t choke me. I don’t want to choke you.
[ Pretty standard stuff. Carver pauses, considering. He hasn’t done this sober for a long time. All his encounters here involved drugs. This is a novelty. ]
I’ll go down on you if you want. You can grab my hair. Don’t care if you like it rough or not, but I’m not here for a fight.
[ He sucks on his teeth, watching Harley. Checking her reaction. ]
Probably doesn’t need to be said, but just so we’re all on the same page: no racist shit. Really not in the mood for that.
[ Harley nods as she listens. She raises a brow at the racism comment, wondering how many times that's actually come up for him to have to say he doesn't like that. Gross. ]
Cool, sounds good. I'm good at sucking dick, you can go down on me or fuck me or all of the above. Whatever floats your boat. Just don't hold me down, don't call me degrading names, and don't leave any permanent marks. No...knives.
[ The last one has her pausing, her gaze averting for a quick moment. That's still a sensitive topic, apparently. Something that happened recently; here. She's not going to talk about it, but that much is obvious to the observant person. But, she clears her throat, downs her hooch, and recovers quickly enough. ]
[ Boundaries are good. Don’t hold her down, don’t call her names, no lasting marks, and no knives. Easy enough to remember. The last one sparked a reaction, though. A pause before she got the word out.
Carver takes another sip from his drink, ignoring the taste. The taste isn’t the point. Then he sets it down on the counter and unsheathes the kukri knife he wears at his side, showing it to her briefly before setting it down as well. He’s got another hidden in his boot, but the one on his belt would have been too hard to ignore once they got into it for real. So. ]
I haven’t done this sober in a while, [ he says after a moment. She’s too sharp not to pick up on that. ] But I’ll remember. Might as well fuck if you’re cool with it.
[ Harley appreciates the fact that Carver shows her the knife and sets it aside, even if the sight causes a brief shiver to run up her spine. She briefly recalls the feel of cold steel running down the length of her spine, feeling the sharp sting and the warmth of the blood pouring out over her pale flesh, her clothing falling away in tattered pieces. But that isn't to be thought of right now. So she puts it away and puts on a smile. ]
That's okay. Maybe it'll be more fun sober.
[ She's one to think on the bright side. Or at least she tries to most of the time. She can tell Carver's a little uneasy, and it means something that he admits that aloud, even though she has a feeling before he says anything. ]
Then come over here and fuck me.
[ Harley bites her lower lip. Sure, it won't just happen like that--all at once; but they have to start somewhere, so Harley pushes herself to her feet and if Carver approaches, she'll meet him halfway and tangle her fingers in his long hair before pressing her mouth to his. It's slow at first, but fiery. Less tenderness and more ferocity. ]
[ She meets him halfway and that helps in a way he wasn't expecting. Makes it feel more mutual, less like a chore they've both been set and need to complete before they can go their separate ways and never think about it again. She reaches out and Carver ducks his head so she can touch his hair. She doesn't wrench it, doesn't try to get him off balance or shove a knife in his throat, so he figures that's a good start and so he puts his hands on her hips, squeezing faintly, and kisses her back. He matches her pace.
It's been a while, aside from a few drugged moments here, but he's not bad at kissing. ]
[ Harley is feeling out how to urge Carver forward without spooking him and making things regress. Slow progress? She'll work on it, even if she knows that once this is over and done with, things will more than likely go back to the way things were before. With her trying hard and him barely responding. Who knows, though? Maybe she'll be surprised. In the meantime, she's focusing on kissing him. She likes how he matches her pace and isn't afraid to put something into it instead of her having to fully take the lead. Tipping her head to one side, she deepens the kiss a little, her tongue swiping against his lips. She nips at his lower lip when she pulls back just enough to pull in a breath of air, the hand that isn't in his hair coming up to rest at the side of his face, feeling the scratch of his facial hair against her palm.
She stumbles backward a little, one hand slipping free of his hair to feel behind her for the edge of the cot so she's not jarred by its sudden appearance behind her legs. When she reaches it, she sits and urges Carver along with her, taking one of his hands and pressing it to the curve of her breast, even though they're both fully dressed. She'll take her time with this and feel out what he reacts well to. ]
[ It helps that she doesn’t hesitate, either. Just goes for it, tugs him back and puts his hand on her breast so it’s easy to follow suit. They’ve still got all their clothes on, Carver far more than her, and it turns out he does like kissing sober. Who knew?
He drags his free hand over her ribs and then curls it around her hip. Good, steady pressure. Not enough to bruise—he’s good at that part, remembering the rules. And she kisses him back harder so he does as well, dragging his teeth against her lip.
[ Harley always just goes for it unless she's with someone like-minded. Then there's a little battle for control sometimes, but it usually just adds to the fun. So, if her assertiveness is something that relaxes Carver, then this should all be smooth sailing.
She arches her tight body into his touch as his hand trails down her ribcage to settle at her hip. He squeezes, but she notes that it's not a crushing grip. Firm, but not enough to leave a mark the next day. She smiles against his lips and then brings another hand up, cupping his face as she kisses him more intensely. She moans into his mouth, the sound vibrating between their lips when he drags his teeth over her flesh, letting him know precisely how she feels about that. If he needs reactions to guide him, she can do that. Not that she can help it most of the time. She's actually being a bit more subdued than normal. Harley is anything but quiet in bed, but something about Carver tells her to take it easy and test his limits rather than doing exactly what she's used to.
Her hand drops from his face to his thigh and then her palm is sliding up until she reaches his lap, pressing her palm firmly against his crotch. There are far too many layers in between them and she pulls back from the kiss but only far enough to speak breathlessly. ]
Too much clothing...
[ She's already pulling back to shed her shirt and shimmy out of her jean shorts and suspenders, leaving her in the hot pink sports bra and a pair of panties. Your turn, Carver. Unless you want her taking your clothes off. ]
[ This whole thing could have been awkward and rough, a chore to be completed. He'd thought it might be, when it started. But then it shifted. She makes that noise and he presses against her, slipping a hand under her shirt to drag against bare skin. To feel if she has scars like his.
He leans back just enough to unclip his hood, shrug out of his coat and let it fall. He likes layers, armor. Even with the heat back home, he needed that. Pope gave them the closest thing to uniforms and he's held to that in the aftermath. And then he shrugs out of his shirt, because there's really no point in being coy. He takes a moment to watch her, take her in the same way she's taking him in. Under all his layers, Carver knows he's strong. He keeps fighting fit because he has to, and they were eating good at Meridian before all the bullshit went down. Enough rations to go around, no flirting with starvation. But he's got scars too, and she's probably smart enough to know what caused them. A dappling of old, pocked scars from an IED over his belly, a slash from a knife over his collarbone. And, of course, the deeper scar over his heart from the kid's scythe, with his pendant hanging over it.
These things happen.
Carver shrugs, and leans in to kiss her again. Hard, this time. ]
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2022-09-23 03:26 pm (UTC)[ That strikes him as weird rather than hot. ]
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Date: 2022-09-23 03:31 pm (UTC)Ugh! No thank you. I guess mirrors is the least constraining one. Just do whatever the fuck you want with a mirror in the room, right? Sounds fine to me.
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Date: 2022-09-23 03:39 pm (UTC)When?
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Date: 2022-09-23 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-23 07:22 pm (UTC)I’ve got a work shift. After then. Where?
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Date: 2022-09-23 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-23 08:42 pm (UTC)Container.
[ He’s one of those people. ]
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Date: 2022-09-23 09:46 pm (UTC)[ She sends off a couple of pictures of the outside so he knows which one it is because she's feeling nice today. ]
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Date: 2022-09-24 01:35 am (UTC)He knocks. He can be polite, sometimes. ]
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Date: 2022-09-24 02:45 am (UTC)It's open!
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Date: 2022-09-24 02:08 pm (UTC)You make those clothes, or they come in with the rest of your stuff?
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Date: 2022-09-24 05:44 pm (UTC)[ She un-crosses her legs and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, watching Carver. He's still across the room, but maybe he needs a little time to warm up. That's cool. She'll follow his lead. Unless she gets the sense that he's the type who needs a little push in the right direction. ]
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Date: 2022-09-24 06:36 pm (UTC)[ The whole thing feels awkward and uncomfortable. Even before the world ended, casual sex wasn't his thing. Sure, there were a couple drunken hookups after his ex kicked him out - each more regrettable than the last - but Pope read him the riot act and that was that. And then there was no room for any of that after the world ended, once they started closing ranks tighter and tighter.
And then he ended up here. And needs must.
Carver sucks on his teeth, watching her intently. She's pretty - he can admit that. He noticed it from the start. It didn't matter because why would it matter? But maybe if they'd met in a bar before the world ended, he would have asked if she wanted to play darts or something. Maybe. ]
Okay. "Mirrors" is pretty open-ended. How'd you wanna play that?
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Date: 2022-09-25 07:43 am (UTC)Well, I moved the full-length mirror that was on the back of the bathroom door and propped it up over there. So. I figure it probably counts if it's, like, in the room? Where we can see it?
She gestures across from the cot, where the mirror is leaving against the wall. It's angled so she can see her reflection from the bed. That has to count, right? What else could 'mirrors' mean? ]
You want a drink or somethin' to take the edge off?
[ He seems a little less comfortable than she feels, so she figures maybe a little of the old social lubricant might help some. ]
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Date: 2022-09-25 03:42 pm (UTC)Sure. Hit me.
[ He won't get drunk but taking the edge off sounds like a good idea - better than standing awkwardly, and half at attention, like a nutcase. ]
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Date: 2022-09-25 04:55 pm (UTC)[ Harley gestures to the cot once she gets up off of it, crossing the room to pull open the mini-fridge she'd finally been able to afford. It definitely came in handy during the food shortage, and it makes the hooch last longer. It also tastes a little less obnoxious when it's cold. She grabs a couple of plastic cups and fills both, walking back over and handing one off to Carver. ]
Okay, so. Maybe we should go over what we don't like? Y'know, avoid making things potentially uncomfortable. I know you said no bondage. Is there anything else? Or anything you're into?
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Date: 2022-09-25 10:28 pm (UTC)So, he drinks. He stays standing. It’s prison hooch so it goes down about as expected. ]
Don’t choke me. I don’t want to choke you.
[ Pretty standard stuff. Carver pauses, considering. He hasn’t done this sober for a long time. All his encounters here involved drugs. This is a novelty. ]
I’ll go down on you if you want. You can grab my hair. Don’t care if you like it rough or not, but I’m not here for a fight.
[ He sucks on his teeth, watching Harley. Checking her reaction. ]
Probably doesn’t need to be said, but just so we’re all on the same page: no racist shit. Really not in the mood for that.
Your turn. Anything you don’t want?
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Date: 2022-09-25 11:58 pm (UTC)Cool, sounds good. I'm good at sucking dick, you can go down on me or fuck me or all of the above. Whatever floats your boat. Just don't hold me down, don't call me degrading names, and don't leave any permanent marks. No...knives.
[ The last one has her pausing, her gaze averting for a quick moment. That's still a sensitive topic, apparently. Something that happened recently; here. She's not going to talk about it, but that much is obvious to the observant person. But, she clears her throat, downs her hooch, and recovers quickly enough. ]
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Date: 2022-09-26 12:15 am (UTC)Carver takes another sip from his drink, ignoring the taste. The taste isn’t the point. Then he sets it down on the counter and unsheathes the kukri knife he wears at his side, showing it to her briefly before setting it down as well. He’s got another hidden in his boot, but the one on his belt would have been too hard to ignore once they got into it for real. So. ]
I haven’t done this sober in a while, [ he says after a moment. She’s too sharp not to pick up on that. ] But I’ll remember. Might as well fuck if you’re cool with it.
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Date: 2022-09-26 04:10 am (UTC)That's okay. Maybe it'll be more fun sober.
[ She's one to think on the bright side. Or at least she tries to most of the time. She can tell Carver's a little uneasy, and it means something that he admits that aloud, even though she has a feeling before he says anything. ]
Then come over here and fuck me.
[ Harley bites her lower lip. Sure, it won't just happen like that--all at once; but they have to start somewhere, so Harley pushes herself to her feet and if Carver approaches, she'll meet him halfway and tangle her fingers in his long hair before pressing her mouth to his. It's slow at first, but fiery. Less tenderness and more ferocity. ]
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Date: 2022-09-27 12:56 am (UTC)It's been a while, aside from a few drugged moments here, but he's not bad at kissing. ]
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Date: 2022-09-27 02:16 am (UTC)She stumbles backward a little, one hand slipping free of his hair to feel behind her for the edge of the cot so she's not jarred by its sudden appearance behind her legs. When she reaches it, she sits and urges Carver along with her, taking one of his hands and pressing it to the curve of her breast, even though they're both fully dressed. She'll take her time with this and feel out what he reacts well to. ]
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Date: 2022-09-27 03:05 am (UTC)He drags his free hand over her ribs and then curls it around her hip. Good, steady pressure. Not enough to bruise—he’s good at that part, remembering the rules. And she kisses him back harder so he does as well, dragging his teeth against her lip.
It’s okay, he thinks. Maybe. ]
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Date: 2022-09-27 03:24 am (UTC)She arches her tight body into his touch as his hand trails down her ribcage to settle at her hip. He squeezes, but she notes that it's not a crushing grip. Firm, but not enough to leave a mark the next day. She smiles against his lips and then brings another hand up, cupping his face as she kisses him more intensely. She moans into his mouth, the sound vibrating between their lips when he drags his teeth over her flesh, letting him know precisely how she feels about that. If he needs reactions to guide him, she can do that. Not that she can help it most of the time. She's actually being a bit more subdued than normal. Harley is anything but quiet in bed, but something about Carver tells her to take it easy and test his limits rather than doing exactly what she's used to.
Her hand drops from his face to his thigh and then her palm is sliding up until she reaches his lap, pressing her palm firmly against his crotch. There are far too many layers in between them and she pulls back from the kiss but only far enough to speak breathlessly. ]
Too much clothing...
[ She's already pulling back to shed her shirt and shimmy out of her jean shorts and suspenders, leaving her in the hot pink sports bra and a pair of panties. Your turn, Carver. Unless you want her taking your clothes off. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-09-28 02:02 am (UTC)He leans back just enough to unclip his hood, shrug out of his coat and let it fall. He likes layers, armor. Even with the heat back home, he needed that. Pope gave them the closest thing to uniforms and he's held to that in the aftermath. And then he shrugs out of his shirt, because there's really no point in being coy. He takes a moment to watch her, take her in the same way she's taking him in. Under all his layers, Carver knows he's strong. He keeps fighting fit because he has to, and they were eating good at Meridian before all the bullshit went down. Enough rations to go around, no flirting with starvation. But he's got scars too, and she's probably smart enough to know what caused them. A dappling of old, pocked scars from an IED over his belly, a slash from a knife over his collarbone. And, of course, the deeper scar over his heart from the kid's scythe, with his pendant hanging over it.
These things happen.
Carver shrugs, and leans in to kiss her again. Hard, this time. ]
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