"I'd like that," he can agree readily, especially since there's no case load here to make demands on his time first and foremost. He has no duties to interfere, unless it's at Marked, or Scratch.
He hesitates, though, before clearly making the decision to continue with, "I liked - it's easier. With someone else around, and I liked that night of camping."
"I did, too." And he needed to hear that, but it's not something he knew to ask for. "That day was good," all of it, the bathhouse and the night in the tent. He has no regrets even if he doesn't want it to change their dynamic, either.
"Yes, all of it," he adds quickly because he had definitely enjoyed the bathhouse - the pool itself, the conversation, the sex and the showers. He'd like to try again sometime.
But like Jesus, that's not what he's thinking of foremost: "If you're looking to push back against the program, it seems to me that sharing quarters might help."
He smiles more at the eagerness than the question.
"Less that and more that I'm not willing to give up spending time with who I want to because I've been told I can't by someone who won't even say why. Whatever they feel they need to do about it is what they need to do."
K, who remembers how satisfying it can be to hear the door slide shut behind him and seal him off from the chaos and the smells of the city outside, nods his willingness to accept this at face value.
"I'm... Learning that I like it too. Being close." He smiles a small, almost shy smile except how there's no shame in it whatsoever. "I brought my toothbrush, just in case."
He grins. "You knew I wanted you here," he says, deeply approving. K knows him well enough to have anticipated this. Loving that K is comfortable enough to be prepared for Jesus to invite him closer.
A lot of things that he'll never, ever just say aloud because they're private; things Jesus can say himself if he decides he wants to, but K never will.
"I'm the most accurate lie detector you'll ever meet. For humans, anyway. You tell me."
"The same way you have so far," he tells him, in his typical plainly honest way.
"By talking to me, and wanting me to talk to you."
The truth isn't the only thing he knows though, isn't the only passing urge he's seen, so he dares another unspeakably bold move for him and slides his hand the few inches forward to rest his fingertips on Jesus's knee.
It's the first time K has made the first move like this. There's a relief in this; proof that K hasn't just been going along with him because it's easier or useful.
His fingertips glide along K's wrist, and he thinks about how much he liked having K's hands on his waist, and he raises an eyebrow to silently ask if K can tell that, too.
He can't, of course, read minds; those who fear replicants the most think they can but that doesn't make it true. He can see that Jesus likes this. He can see that the way anticipation is threading through his expression - not yet rooted into place, but familiar - means he's considering more, and likes that too.
And he can read the mischief every bit as loud as the pleasure, as the cool tones of relief. So no, he can't tell exactly what's behind the lift of the brow but he turns his hand up without lifting it, offering it, and what he says is, "It's okay."
Officer has the potential to derail K in the wrong moment, but paired with that combination - with the kiss - he chuckles deep in his throat.
"Am I hearing that maybe you don't want me to be more official here after all, then?" he teases in return, letting himself be pulled closer, but sliding the hand Jesus doesn't have hold of along his outer thigh as he does.
He has never heard K laugh like that--maybe not even at all, now that he thinks of it, and he kisses him all the more eagerly for it.
He's still in the blue swim trunks he'd worn to the party, so he feels skin on skin until suddenly there's fabric in the way and he wants it gone. "I'm wondering what we'll be like without a concrete tub or some small rocks bruising us," he says.
It's forward - more forward than K has ever been, in matter of fact - but his touch is still light, still more exploratory than like he's headed specifically for any single destination. Maybe they are, but he's as interested in how they get there as anything else, and he slows that kiss down before letting it break again.
"And with no interruptions," he adds - or threat of interruption. "Or influences."
"I like that we don't need influences," he confesses. He's not averse to it, he was mildly drunk with the first person he slept with here. But he likes being present with K.
"I didn't know you had anything the first time we slept together." He hadn't seemed under any influence, and there was nothing in the bath water that he ever noticed.
"No, not that time," he agrees - which almost gives him pause again, because so many of his own definitions are different from others, and maybe he misjudged something.
But he already came this far: "Even just the kissing, before. At the camp."
He nods. "That- was the same for me. I wanted to kiss you. But I probably wouldn't have so soon, if we hadn't decided to take something." He frowns. "I wouldn't have, if we hadn't both decided to take something, together."
"I wouldn't have if we weren't here," he can say with certainty. "If it weren't for quota, I wouldn't have dreamed of kissing someone else." Anyone else. That's where he'd been at the time.
"It was easier, when we agreed to ignore quota. But that wouldn't have been something I did, either, if I hadn't already seen that you'd... be okay, if I wasn't. That you'd let me not be okay."
That he'd care about what K thought at all, which in this moment is a thought that lets him stroke his thumb lightly over the soft skin of the inside of Jesus's wrist.
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He hesitates, though, before clearly making the decision to continue with, "I liked - it's easier. With someone else around, and I liked that night of camping."
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But like Jesus, that's not what he's thinking of foremost: "If you're looking to push back against the program, it seems to me that sharing quarters might help."
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"You're working to be cited over it?"
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"Less that and more that I'm not willing to give up spending time with who I want to because I've been told I can't by someone who won't even say why. Whatever they feel they need to do about it is what they need to do."
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"There's an extra bed anyway. Or," a curious glance. "You could share mine."
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He remembers how tense Jesus had been shoulder to shoulder with him in the tent, how attuned to every movement and sound.
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"I like having you close."
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"I'm... Learning that I like it too. Being close." He smiles a small, almost shy smile except how there's no shame in it whatsoever. "I brought my toothbrush, just in case."
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"What else do you know already?"
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"I'm the most accurate lie detector you'll ever meet. For humans, anyway. You tell me."
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"By talking to me, and wanting me to talk to you."
The truth isn't the only thing he knows though, isn't the only passing urge he's seen, so he dares another unspeakably bold move for him and slides his hand the few inches forward to rest his fingertips on Jesus's knee.
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His fingertips glide along K's wrist, and he thinks about how much he liked having K's hands on his waist, and he raises an eyebrow to silently ask if K can tell that, too.
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And he can read the mischief every bit as loud as the pleasure, as the cool tones of relief. So no, he can't tell exactly what's behind the lift of the brow but he turns his hand up without lifting it, offering it, and what he says is, "It's okay."
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"I'm going to like breaking the law with you." That mischief intensifies as he leans in and kisses him. "Officer."
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"Am I hearing that maybe you don't want me to be more official here after all, then?" he teases in return, letting himself be pulled closer, but sliding the hand Jesus doesn't have hold of along his outer thigh as he does.
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He's still in the blue swim trunks he'd worn to the party, so he feels skin on skin until suddenly there's fabric in the way and he wants it gone. "I'm wondering what we'll be like without a concrete tub or some small rocks bruising us," he says.
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"And with no interruptions," he adds - or threat of interruption. "Or influences."
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"It didn't change anything I was feeling, but... Made some parts louder than others."
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But he already came this far: "Even just the kissing, before. At the camp."
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"It was easier, when we agreed to ignore quota. But that wouldn't have been something I did, either, if I hadn't already seen that you'd... be okay, if I wasn't. That you'd let me not be okay."
That he'd care about what K thought at all, which in this moment is a thought that lets him stroke his thumb lightly over the soft skin of the inside of Jesus's wrist.
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