pravila_za_mechtateli | in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down [Voice Test]

in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down [Voice Test]

It had been a long shift with a lot of johns and more of Cheng than Kavinsky really wanted to think about. At least it had only been Cheng this time, but the reminder of him was a reminder of Ronan, and Kavinsky could do without that being on his periphery at any given second.

Ostensibly, he ought to be heading back to his apartment. No one had picked him up for the night, which meant he had what he'd made from dancing, and that was it. An alright turn out, but the tips had been smaller than normal, and Kavinsky just wanted a little more cushion. Not that, if he ever got home, he could do anything with this money. But it was a nice dream.

He was aware that someone was following him by a shadow shifting, but he just kept walking, humming a new strain of a song to himself. Maybe it was just someone headed the same way. Hopefully it wasn't Cheng.

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"Fine. Show me where the hotel is."

Now that it was real, Poison tried to think of what he wanted. A walk might give him time, but if the hotel worked through the club, it probably wasn't that far.

Waterboarding.

"Who waterboarded you? Or tried to?"

Edited 2016-08-29 05:26 (UTC)

They had to turn around, back the way they came. Kavinsky felt like an idiot. Somehow. Like maybe this was his fault--of course it was, this was his job. But they weren't supposed to follow him, not really.

If Gansey were here, Adam, anyone, he wouldn't have been in this position because he wouldn't be working something like this.

The question was invasive, intrusive. Kavinsky waved a hand to dismiss it. He smiled, and even managed to make it look like he was happy to be of service here. "What do you want me to call you?"

Poison kept his head up as he walked, and if anyone paid them too much mind, he looked at them like he'd remember them. It usually unnerved them enough that they looked away.

He considered. Did using his name matter? It wasn't a real name anyway. "Poison," he answered. "What do you want me to call you?"

There weren't many people out on the streets, but enough. Kavinsky kept his head down, for the most part. He didn't mind being recognized, but he'd prefer not. The admission of the name just cemented in his head, alongside the preexisting memory-thoughts of him, that he was being an idiot. Rumors were as rumors did, and Darrow was not a large place. Kavinsky knew who Poison was, and who he sometimes worked with--or, rather, for.

Kavinsky didn't think this was Ronan fucking with him. It was too drawn out, too complex a scheme. Keeping that smile in place--his dancing smile, the one that got him tips--he said, "Kav. Kav is fine. Is this your first time doing this?"

"Kav," he repeated. "No, it's not. Been a little while." He'd found other ways to satisfy his needs, but he'd also... been in the habit of ignoring them for long stretches of time. He supposed he didn't have to here, but Darrow was a small place. Not that different from Battery City, in some ways.

Someone could always find out. Someone could always decide to make it an issue.

When they got to the hotel, Poison got a room. Maybe an alleyway would have been easier, but he didn't want that right now.

Their walk was mostly quiet besides, and Kavinsky stood off to the side while Poison got them a room. The hotel was not, particularly, a good one, but it wasn't seedy. Things were clean and neat, like the rest of Darrow, and Kavinsky supposed that was a comfort.

Once Poison had a key, Kavinsky gently took it from him. He led the way up to the room and let them into it. A solitary queen bed, a desk, an open door to the bathroom. Nothing special. Kavinsky knew without looking that, instead of a bible, there was lube and condoms in the bedside table.

The door shut behind them. "Do you kiss at all, or should I avoid it?"

Poison slid off his jacket and the shoulder holster that had been hidden underneath. He hung both up on the back of the door. "If you try to kill me you better get me on the first shot," he said idly now that he'd disarmed himself. He thought about the kissing question.

"You can. I'll let you know if it stops being fine."

It seemed ridiculously intimate, and Poison wasn't sure how much of that he wanted. Something deep in him might.

Edited 2016-08-30 03:11 (UTC)

You can was not the same as please do, and Kavinsky sat on the edge of the bed. It was a gentle, almost demure gesture. He smoothed the edge of the bedspread and watched Poison through thick, dark lashes.

"Why don't you tell me," Kavinsky suggested softly, "how you'd like me to get naked. And then we'll go from there. Hm?"

What the hell was he doing here? He could leave now, drop some money on the nightstand to pay for the time he'd taken already and just disappear into the night. He could find something anonymous, or nothing at all. He had to tell Lynch the shit he'd dreamt up didn't work the way it was supposed to.

"However you want to get there," he answered.

He shouldn't be wanting this.

Kavinsky tried to not be a little bit offended by that. Normally, clients knew what they wanted, how they wanted to get to a place. Whatever that place was. Poison was just--he was paying just to watch Kavinsky squirm a little, it seemed, and he didn't appreciate that.

That didn't show on his face. He shifted further back onto the bed and then knelt up on his knees. Slowly, gracefully, with a little swing of his hips, he started to strip. It was a more sensual dance than he did in the club. Something meant to be deliberately enticing.

Poison looked down for a moment. "Pretend you have some agency," he said quietly. Maybe that would help, or it would be worse. He watched Kavinsky's hips sway, watched him strip. He'd seen it before, but that didn't make him want to watch any less.

Pretend I'm someone else, he wanted to say. I used to be someone else. Didn't I?

Kavinsky let out a breath of a laugh. Agency. He was barely past eighteen and he'd been here in this city, without anyone that cared, for months. But this job was agency. Dancing, going with johns, that was all his decisions, his consent.

Once he was naked, he tumbled playfully back in the bed. He pushed back the bedspread, and then wound himself in the sheet, slinking toward the edge to reach for Poison, to pull him close.

Once upon a time, a world away, Kavinsky had laid in a bed not unlike this and reached for someone else. That was different than this.

He offered a deadpan look in response to the laugh. He didn't want to be made to feel ridiculous. Kavinsky's playful tumble, the way he rolled, made Poison's eyes glaze over for a moment; he remembered someone else.

No.

He moved into Kavinsky's reach, looking down when a hand brushed his hip. His hand dropped, touching his cheek, his neck.

Kavinsky didn't let nerves creep in as Poison touched him. He had said his hard limit. Everything else was negotiable, or for a price. So he let Poison touch him, his face, his neck. He leaned in and pushed up his shirt enough to kiss his stomach gently, then down, down, down to the fly of his pants. He opened the button and pulled the fly down with his mouth, his lips and teeth and tongue. It was nothing. A trick he'd picked up at some point along the way.

Once his pants were open, Poison pulled back. He looked down at Kav's face, staring for a moment, hand still resting against his jaw. He was-- his face prompted a weird mix of memories. And if he let them blur together, they could be this face. Maybe.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Kavinsky, tried to clear his head again. "You dream things like Lynch does, don't you?" People talked a lot around him. Sometimes they forgot he was even around. He liked it that way.

The overt mention of Lynch almost made Kavinsky get out of bed. It was one thing to bring things up in a sort of oblique way that implied the association, but something so bald felt like a threat, maybe.

Kavinsky kept his face still and receptive and kind. He swallowed a little, nervous.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. People talk, I listen. I don't mishear."

Poison was aware that most of what he said sounded like a threat, veiled or otherwise. He stared at the floor. "If you are that, maybe you can do something for me. And if you aren't - which I believe is a lie - fine. Either way, we can get on with it."

He looked at Kavinsky. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here on my time."

"Are you going to give me fair warning for when you aren't here on your own time?" Kavinsky asked. His accent got a touch thicker with worry, but he kept an open, easy expression because even though Poison was only barely looking at him, he was still touching him.

He had not dreamt for someone else in ages. Not since Henrietta. Not since trying to--

"What can I do for you, Poison?"

"There's a drug I used to take. I ran out. I don't know if it's possible for someone to recreate something like that without ever having been on it. But I want it."

Poison watched Kavinsky after that, wondering if it can even be done. What reference point would he even have, beyond what Poison could tell him? Maybe that wasn't enough for a dream thing.

Kavinsky was silent for a moment. His brain worked, a miserable machine that knew he could do this, but wasn't sure if he wanted to. Was this what he was, in whispered corners of this city? A quiet creator of miserable pastime because he would never get that monkey off his back, more and more so as time went on.

"It would take a while," he said. Tried not to sound put out that this social call was because he was maybe more reputable than Ronan Lynch. "You'd have to tell me everything you know and remember about it. But it would take me time."

"I have nothing but time here. And I need it."

Maybe that wasn't true, but he didn't want to go back to before. Too many memories, too many feelings.

Poison looked at Kavinsky's face, then reached, rather gentle as he guided his chin. He kissed him. "Tell me what the boyfriend experience is. Again."

Kavinsky didn't know how to say that he didn't think he could make it now. And even if he could, there was always the risk that he might bring something else back.

He tilted his head up sweetly, obediently, and opened his mouth to the kiss. It was so brief. He tried not to think that he thought he might prefer the pornstar experience.

"Kissing. Face to face. Condom's voluntary."

Voluntary. Poison probably wouldn't take that risk even if someone assured him it was safe.

"And the other one?"

He'd been listening the first time, but now that Kavinsky was naked, wrapped in a sheet, and he was sitting here with his pants undone, he supposed it didn't hurt to review his options.

"Pornstar experience," Kavinsky said. Poison was still touching him, gentle and exploratory, and Kavinsky tried to think about what traits were important there. Instead, he said, "What it says on the tin. Basically use me however you want. My specialties include deepthroat and a high...high pain tolerance. Condom's required. We use a safeword, because I won't say no to anything you want. Unless saying no is part of what you want. Then we definitely use a safeword."

"I don't hurt people in my free time," he said blandly. "I don't think I'm interested in that." He considered a moment. "But a safe word might be good anyway." Because he didn't know what he might do if he got too far into his head; too far into his feelings. Hopefully it wouldn't come up.

"Is there anything you like? Or are you just going to try to tell me what you think I want to hear?"

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