caycay | IC Inbox

Mmm, that's just the bad decisions catching up to ya,

[grins Fearless, bouncing his brows. anyway he's watching Cater's face, knows he's close.

honestly, it's just like a game of poker. a little bluff, a lucky guess, watching the reactions— that's all. you can twist almost any horoscope to a particular set of traits if you really want to. it's not like Fearless actually believes the shit he spouts (though a part of him has to wonder; is it different in a world with magic?) but there is something to the collections of traits people themselves find resonate with them.

boldly, without hesitation, Fearless takes Cater's hand and pulls it up to his own face, humming against Cater's fingers as he muses;]

I'm gonna go with Aquarius.

I'm not gonna believe you if you say Libra.

[Cater brushes his thumb against Fearless' lips, shifts to cup his cheek.]

If I was a Libra, I wouldn't be decisive enough to go for what I want.

[He swings his leg over, placing himself over the man's hips. Although he's looking down at him, he's not quite blocking the view of the stars.]

Ding ding ding! Winner, winner! Ready for your prize?

[emotionally avoidant. classic Aquarius.

but see, Fearless doesn't get anything out of prying, and he is perfectly satisfied with what he gets out of this. his hands are on Cater's thighs immediately, and he nods before he speaks, his body starting to answer before his mouth.

he shrugs, tilting his head to the side and acknowledging;]

I mean, who doesn't like winning?

[he's a changed man, sure, but not that changed.

and Cater is... well, Fearless is taken for a moment, by the way Cater looks framed by the stars, and for that moment those dark eyes of his are wide and curious.]

[He was being all too obvious, he knew, pulling a stunt like this right after everything that Fearless had said. Admitting to it all in the worst possible way. And yet, somehow, he doesn't feel like he's being judged for it. Fearless looks at him like he gets it, and while it's incredibly frightening to be seen, there's something comforting in being understood.

Maybe this would be scarier, if it were someone he knew from home. But what was happening here, it wasn't like either of them were trying for some kind of deep connection, right?

It's hard not to soften at the way he's being gazed at, right now. Like Fearless is seeing something that Cater couldn't possibly see for himself.]

I wanna pick up where we left off.

[He leans in a little closer, hands running down Fearless' chest.]

I don't really care if you tell me it's a bad idea.

Well, I wouldn't tell you that now.

I'm not tryn'a chase you off.

[he drums his fingers against Cater's thighs, mouth drawn into a little grin like someone who's just been served their favorite meal as he looks Cater up and down again. and then he moves one hand up to Cater's face instead, pushing some of that hair out of the way so he can keep a good look at him, so he can rest his palm on the back of Cater's neck.]

In fact, I think it'd be a great idea if you let me kiss you again.

[Looking down at Fearless, some of that maybe-a-bit-desperate edge to what he was doing softens even further than before. He lets himself be drawn closer by that hand, stopping short from actually going in for a kiss himself, this time.]

You have some pretty good ideas. So, what're you waiting for?

[Fearless leans up to speak against Cater's lips;]

Permission.

[he answers, playful and sweet, before giving Cater that kiss he wants so bad. Finger curling in a lock of hair at the base of Cater's neck, Fearless hums, satisfied.]

[Cater's lips are curled into a smile as Fearless presses into him. There was a part of him that wanted to explain how Fearless had always had permission, or maybe that he didn't even need it--but such thoughts were quickly hushed. Who even cared, right now, when they were already on the same page?

There's no hurry behind this kiss, unlike the hungry frenzy from the one they shared in the Nest. Neither of them was any less authentic than the other, but the energy had shifted completely, at some point. The tension from his earlier deflection melts away as his body settles down against the one beneath it, his own hands sliding up into Fearless' hair for a second time that night.]

[why hurry when they have all the time they want? they're dead. fuck the consequences. at least, Fearless can't see very many consequences to this. he slides his hand down Cater's neck, down his shoulder, over his chest— savoring the feeling of another warm body.

that's the way it always used to be, really. a vague shadow, a silhouette of shape meant only for the feeling, for the rush. it was easy to lose interest back then before things had even gotten done. Fearless would find himself in the safety of a warm bed, with someone there to theoretically keep watch, and he'd fall asleep before he could get any action.

this time, though, he's different. just like with Seras before, Fearless is starting to learn the shape and color. Seras is this warm yellow not quite like the strawberry blonde of her hair, but like the shine of sunlight out from the gaps of haphazard blinds. Cater is so brand new to him that he is this fizzy kind of orange, like sparks against pavement. another rush, but in the light of the stars and sparks, Cater is starting to form a shape in Fearless's mind, under Fearless's hand.

a sigh against Cater's lips and Fearless runs his tongue across the flesh like he's knocking on a door— knowing he has that permission, though, it's more of a tease. his hands find their way to Cater's hips and squeeze, another summary of Cater's shape in Fearless's perception.]

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