"Oh." Drake sounds a little confused, but shakes it off quickly. "He hasn't mentioned her. Okay... well, if I didn't fuck it up and either of you ever change your mind, I've still got that down payment."
"K understands grief, Drake," he says softly, his hands gentler for a moment. "He won't blame you for giving in to the hurt for a while. We've all done it."
Drake doesn't know how long it'll take him to be ready to leave here -- or if he'll ever feel ready. But he knows that it's not healthy for him to stay, preserving this place like a shrine. How many times did he say to Ephemera that it's not moving on to move forward? You don't forget the people you lose, and you never stop loving them. But keeping mementos is very different from torturing himself by refusing to ever leave a place that reminds him of his loss no matter where he looks.
"Just for a while," he echoes, shutting his eyes again. Knowing that the last thing his partner would have wanted is for him to wrap himself in this pain forever.
"You haven't ruined anything for either of us," he says, his voice soft and confident. Drake can hurt for now; Jesus has his back. Literally and figuratively.
"Do you actually know that?" He asks, tone flat and tired sounding. Has Jesus talked to K about it? Because why would anyone, let alone a guy as worried about his safety and security as K, want to sign with someone who's clearly having a breakdown? "I haven't gone to see him yet."
That makes two of them, then, but Drake is pretty deep in the self loathing at this point... it won't be easy for Jesus to reassure him. He's going to have to go talk to K himself, because unless Jesus asked some very specific questions that he hasn't indicated yet? Drake is worried.
"Understanding's great, but it doesn't mean he'd--" he cuts himself off there, pressing his lips together and exhaling through his nose before turning his face into the bedding. As if he can hide his anger at himself from Jesus when the other man can literally feel him tensing back up again. His sharp, "nevermind," is muffled in the sheets.
Jesus has utter faith in K, and further faith in his own ability to smooth over misunderstandings. This will all be okay.
But he's used to being the only person in an entire community who feels that way. So he just leans down and kisses the back of Drake's neck, and then between his shoulder blades. "You're not breathing slow for me anymore, babe."
Jesus is used to being the only one with faith in problems getting fixed... and Drake is used to being seen and treated as if he's expendable except by one or maybe two people. It's very rare that anything ever worked out in his favor no matter how hard he tried, so this isn't exactly pessimism. It's just what's been his reality.
He makes a grumbling sound into the bedding, because Jesus is objectively correct but also: he's stressing because it's important to him. Jesus being sweet about it is cute, at least. Enough that he'll try to joke it off as he rolls his shoulders.
"Keep that up and I'm not gonna be," is still muffled.
He grins and kisses a line from one shoulder to the other, then down his spine to his lower back. "What do you mean?" he sounds perfectly serious even though he is very studiously working on teasing him up now. "You aren't feeling relaxed anymore? Why?"
"You're a little shit sometimes, you know that?" he asks hypothetically, finally glancing back over his shoulder. But he's also grinning again. And since Jesus has shifted lower Drake twists to the side and reaches for him, brushing his fingers through the other man's beard. "C'mere."
That's the desired response. Jesus grins at him, completely unrepentant, and crawls up to join him. He kisses him--slow, this time, but no less determined to lift his mood.
"I like you. A lot. Trust me when I say I have good reason to."
It's a good kiss, and it accomplishes its purpose so Jesus should be pleased with himself. Drake doesn't drag him back in immediately when he pulls away, but then Jesus has to go and say that...
"Right back at you," he manages, voice rough. "...I do trust you."
"I'm glad." Especially after everything Drake has been through. He rests his forehead on Drake's, just enjoying this moment. "We should go to the pet store. Unless you want to stay here a little longer."
"We've got plenty of time," he murmurs. It's still morning, after all. A little longer won't hurt. He reaches up and tugs the tie out of Jesus' hair, then pulls him into another kiss.
He kisses him back, deepening the kiss, sliding his arm around Drake. "Thinking of making it a rule: take my hair down you have to fuck me," he murmurs. "What do you think?"
"Cool." It might seem like a very nonchalant, uninvested response... until he does use that grip to pull Jesus up. Not sharply enough to actually hurt him, but it's an insistent tug designed to force the other man to rise back onto his knees.
The position is just like before, except that Drake's on his back now. Which makes the suggestion he's about to make (which doesn't sound at all like a suggestion) quite a bit more interesting.
Drake gives a low hum of approval, smiling and watching Jesus' expression as his hands work lower. Getting warmer... he keeps hold of the other man's hair with one hand and lifts the other to the collar of his shirt, working the buttons open with the same teasing slowness Jesus is subjecting him to.
He raises an eyebrow, grinning as he slowly unfastens Drake's pants. He pauses to get the lotion, to dribble some of it on Drake's stomach, get his hands soft and slick.
"This is why I could never go pro with this," he teases. "Get a hot guy under my hands, pulling my hair, and this is what happens."
"Wait a minute... why's the client pulling your hair during a massage?" he asks with a playfully exaggerated confusion, still slowly undoing buttons despite the anticipation of those skilled hands in more fun places. "Sounds to me like you knew what you were getting into there."
"Seems like people can't help it. It's why I put it up," he jokes, and raises up slightly, urging Drake to lift his hips so he can jerk his pants down a bit and have full access to him.
That's a clear hint that Drake takes without hesitation, lifting his hips as he laughs at Jesus' claim.
"So this is all my fault, huh?"
The last button pops open beneath his fingers, Jesus' shirt falling to either side. That's better. Now Drake can drag a caress up the other man's torso, just firm enough to keep from tickling but light enough to make him arch into the touch seeking more.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
Drake doesn't know how long it'll take him to be ready to leave here -- or if he'll ever feel ready. But he knows that it's not healthy for him to stay, preserving this place like a shrine. How many times did he say to Ephemera that it's not moving on to move forward? You don't forget the people you lose, and you never stop loving them. But keeping mementos is very different from torturing himself by refusing to ever leave a place that reminds him of his loss no matter where he looks.
"Just for a while," he echoes, shutting his eyes again. Knowing that the last thing his partner would have wanted is for him to wrap himself in this pain forever.
no subject
no subject
no subject
And if K doesn't, Jesus will mediate.
no subject
"Understanding's great, but it doesn't mean he'd--" he cuts himself off there, pressing his lips together and exhaling through his nose before turning his face into the bedding. As if he can hide his anger at himself from Jesus when the other man can literally feel him tensing back up again. His sharp, "nevermind," is muffled in the sheets.
no subject
But he's used to being the only person in an entire community who feels that way. So he just leans down and kisses the back of Drake's neck, and then between his shoulder blades. "You're not breathing slow for me anymore, babe."
no subject
He makes a grumbling sound into the bedding, because Jesus is objectively correct but also: he's stressing because it's important to him. Jesus being sweet about it is cute, at least. Enough that he'll try to joke it off as he rolls his shoulders.
"Keep that up and I'm not gonna be," is still muffled.
no subject
no subject
"You're a little shit sometimes, you know that?" he asks hypothetically, finally glancing back over his shoulder. But he's also grinning again. And since Jesus has shifted lower Drake twists to the side and reaches for him, brushing his fingers through the other man's beard. "C'mere."
no subject
"I like you. A lot. Trust me when I say I have good reason to."
no subject
"Right back at you," he manages, voice rough. "...I do trust you."
no subject
no subject
"We've got plenty of time," he murmurs. It's still morning, after all. A little longer won't hurt. He reaches up and tugs the tie out of Jesus' hair, then pulls him into another kiss.
no subject
no subject
"I'm not opposed. When would this go into effect?"
no subject
no subject
The position is just like before, except that Drake's on his back now. Which makes the suggestion he's about to make (which doesn't sound at all like a suggestion) quite a bit more interesting.
"Then how about you keep massaging?"
no subject
He runs his hands silkily along Drake's chest and abdomen, then his hips where he massages slowly.
no subject
Two can play this game, babe.
no subject
"This is why I could never go pro with this," he teases. "Get a hot guy under my hands, pulling my hair, and this is what happens."
no subject
no subject
no subject
"So this is all my fault, huh?"
The last button pops open beneath his fingers, Jesus' shirt falling to either side. That's better. Now Drake can drag a caress up the other man's torso, just firm enough to keep from tickling but light enough to make him arch into the touch seeking more.
"If I plead guilty will you go easy on me?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)