extent | duplicitynet

You sure fucking did.

[But Tate's not going to say it wasn't the quickest solution. He does step closer though, reaching out to hook his fingers into the crook of Nick's elbow to pull it toward him just to look at it. You know, make sure the whole glass breaking thing didn't also break the skin. After a soft check of "you good?" he looks around to make sure the sound hasn't attracted any attention as he then moves to break a few jagged edges off the frame with a knock of his sideways fist.]

I'll boost you in first. Take this.

[The flashlight, of course.]

( it's a sweet little gesture, odd only because nick wasn't really expecting it to come. he twists his arm under tate's gaze, dutifully confirms that there aren't any injuries there, and then before he turns back to the window nick touches his cheek lightly. just a little press of his finger tips accompanied by a smile, and then he's back to the task at hand. )

Oh my God, I'm going to drop it.

( he says, very confidently, taking the flashlight and immediately shoving it into his front pocket. the balled up hoodie in his other hand quickly gets shoved over the window frame to sweep off any more glass, and when he's reasonably confident he won't slice his hands open, he grabs hold of the frame. )

Don't drop me.

( that said, he's reasonably confident he can get in, with only minor dismount issues most likely. the window isn't that high, and even intoxicated nick isn't especially uncoordinated. )

Just - don't fuck it up?

[Tate's playfully barking back, once they're in a position where he can help boost Nick up the rest of the way that'll help him get through the freshly shattered window. Glass crunches under the toes of his chucks and Tate makes a grunt as he helps haul Nick in, not as strong as a lot of other people in this city - it's not exactly an elegant or softly dropped hauling at all. But once Nick's inside, Tate's taking the cheap way in. He just sort of steps out of the shadows next to Nick, like the wall was a revolving door.]

Upstairs has a good view, and the club across the way's loud enough to give us some sound.

( nick is looking at the window waiting for tate — wondering if he's supposed to be helping in some way, actually — so naturally, it scares the shit out of him when tate just sort of appears. he curses loud enough for it to echo a little weirdly in the big empty space around them, and pulls out the flashlight, clicking it on while pointed at tate as if in retaliation. )

I don't think that's very fair.

( but then he got to smash a window, so maybe that's the win on its own. nick swings the flashlight around the space a little until he finds the stairs in question leading up, scuffs his feet a few times through the glass and dirt under his shoe before heading out into the warehouse. )

You've been here before then? How did you even find this place?

Did I scare ya?

[Tate asks with a grin, before lifting his hand to block away the beam of light as it enters his eyes. He swats at Nick a bit after that, laughing as he follows Nick up the stairs. He kicks a crumpled tin can off the steps as he goes up them, watching the graffiti on the walls light up when the flashlight catches them and half wishes he thought to bring some paint in his bag for occasions like this. Well, there'll be more vandalizing opportunities in the future.]

Before I was in a contract, back when I was just a sub... I hadn't found any good places to be alone. This was one of the buildings that I could hang out in to pass some time when I didn't want to be stuck in the government's chosen holes.

[On the upper landing, there's a long stretch of windows and a loft-like overhang that gazes down on decrepit machinery and empty space below. Along the walls are signs of other people's past visits - clothes, a dusty mattress and a few spent condoms in the far corners. It's not exactly sparkling fresh but hey, it's got privacy and the heavy hum and beat of the adjacent club's base.]

Kinda cool, right?

[... Right? His expression shows he knows it might be up for debate.]

You were a sub before? I didn't know they let people change.

( that's not actually something nick knew was even possible. it had seemed like everything around here was all about rigid rules, little flexibility. a change like that happening in this place, it just doesn't make sense at all.

the warehouse is kind of cool, though. nosy to a fault, nick kicks his foot against what appears to be some kind of shirt, nudging it up until he can see if there's anything underneath it. )

No, I totally get it. I like this. I used to uh, go hang out on the roof a lot. No one really went up there, I could kind of just do whatever I wanted. It was good, when I needed breathing room.

( something makes him pause briefly in his poking around the space though, where he'd just picked up a cut open can and was inspecting the scorch marks on the underside. )

Do you have a contract now?

For my first year here, yeah. I was a sub. I don't know why it swapped me, but it swapped my then Dom at the time too. We got to keep our contract going, at least.

[Tate moves toward the ratty looking mattress that most people would avoid, and after kicking a blanket askew to make sure there aren't any spent needles under it - he collapses down on it, back against a cold brick wall. He raises his brows as if to invite Nick to join him in this luxury, and folds his legs under him, sitting forward with his hands resting on his crossed ankles and his elbows on his knees. His bag gets set in front of him, zipper pulled to part and re-reveal their stash.]

No.

[He answers, while rifling through the belongings again and keeping his head down.]

We had to break it off so he could sign with someone else for a bit. Guess you could say I'm between contracts right now.

That's weird. Right? That seems weird.

( he approaches the mattress with only a little hesitation though, pushing his foot down on the corner a few times as if testing it before sitting down, surprisingly neatly for someone who also might not be able to confidently recite the ABC's at this very minute. nick shifts until he's turned towards tate and the bag, one knee pulled up to his chest and the other leg stretched out in front of him.

there's plenty of options in here that belong to nick, but he just sticks his hand into the bag and feels around blindly until he comes across something small and solid. pills, that definitely aren't his, and he holds them up with a mildly questioning look. he's not just going to take...except for the part where he more or less is. at least there's the illusion of asking permission, first. )

Huh. Well, if you don't find anything... ( he shrugs, reaching out to snag one of tate's hand and twist it until it's facing palm up. ) ...let me know. Here.

( even if the math would work in their favour, nick couldn't figure it out right now anyway. besides, more important is shaking out a couple of pills onto tate's palm and sticking his tongue out at the same time, eyebrows raising in amusement. )

I'll remember that.

[Tate says with a semi-grateful tone, before he's whisked back into watching Nick play pharmacist in front of him. He has his hand up as directed, watching the pills slip into the dip of his palm. He waits a beat before he takes one and puts it to his lips, throwing it back in a dry swallow that would've made his Christian mother cry before he's up on his knees to offer the next one to Nick by his own hand. Yeah, there's probably a lot to be said about mixing what they're taking - not to mention the alcohol - but who cares? What's it going to do? Kill him?]

I mean, if I remember any of tonight - I'll try to remember that part.

[He laughs, quite enthused, before he's dipping forward whether or not Nick's taken the pill and he's laying a kiss on him. He wanted distraction and Tate's eager to give it, high enough to not think twice about a little bodily contact where as earlier he would've been more reserved considering why they're here. But a kiss seems easy enough, not the most finessed on account of the buzz in his head but his hands feel up the side of Nick's neck and down one of his arms.]

( nick knows — or rather suspects — that there is no such thing as too much of his own stuff because he designed it that way, but the jury is out once all these combinations come into play. still, he's not thinking about it too much. he's done worse and lived to tell the tale, and there's enough nosy busibodies tracking his whereabouts that he's pretty sure any situations of real concern will be picked up before they go too far.

so he's not worried, when he swallows this pill down. )

Tie a– a string, isn't that a thing? Around your pinkie...

( he's too busy sniggering away to actually follow that train of thought all the way through, and then he's too busy kissing tate to finish laughing about it, too. this is a test too, really, and some part of him is aware that this isn't fair. nick doesn't know where his lines are anymore and tate didn't exactly sign up to find out, but he leans forward anyway. a hand slides up into tate's hair right away, and the other just settles on his chest, tugging idly at the front of his shirt and urging him in closer. )

[Tate leans back into the kiss, in toward Nick's roaming hands and the way he pulls him closer still. Tate's aware he should be watching for signs, little subtle hints of when to lay off or ease away - but it's a gamble whether or not he'll feel the empathetic pull to do so when the time comes. Whether he'll go that step farther than he needs to bring it back down if Nick doesn't explicitly tell him when to stop.

He lifts his own hands to Nick, one to cup the side of his cheek and the other to slip under the hem of his shirt and up the small of his back. It's the latter hand and grip that pulls Nick more toward him, so they can settle back against the decrepit mattress and into one another's arms.]

( it's immediately a relief, when nick feels tate's fingers and he doesn't panic or tense under the touch. this is all very unpredictable in a way that should really set him on edge, or at least be some kind of red flag, but nick is just glad that something is working right now.

and it is working. he pushes up onto his knees and shuffles closer until he's about as far as he can get without ending up in tate's lap. and when they end up on the mattress instead he doesn't tense up either, so if this really is nick's test then it's just win after win. nick stretches out onto the mattress beside tate and nudges a knee between his, the hand at his chest wandering down until he can find a waistband to tug him closer by instead. maybe it isn't so much of a win, the situation is so far removed from the one that caused this little intoxicated spiral. but honestly nick is more worried about humming out some pleased, approving little noise and dragging his teeth against tate's lower lip. just sort of testing the waters, really. )

[Tate settles on his side, humming against Nick's lips in approval when he feels his knee slide between his own - grinding forward against it and hooking his calf around the back of Nick's leg to anchor him near. It's just a long moment of touch - fumbling fingers, caresses up the side of Nick's neck and a continuous stream of lip lock that Tate indulges in just to pair the rush of his still present high with a physical enhancement. He thrives on contact, especially like this, and is in no rush to break it off.

Despite the ever increasing urge, Tate doesn't roll over Nick. He wants to - he wants to get at his neck and feel him writhe beneath him again but there's that shred of polite hesitancy there. It just battles with the growing throb of lust between his legs, so he opts for something else - pulling Nick toward him, encouraging him to make the next move or clamber up on top of him instead. That way if he doesn't - well, Tate can take 'initiative' after his unsaid suggestions fall through.]

( that's much more interesting, actually. tate encourages him over, and nick goes quick and easy. he pushes at tate's shoulder to get him onto his back, breaking the kiss only by necessity and swinging a leg over to straddle tate's hips.

he doesn't go back immediately, either. he settles into the position with a lazy grin, only fumbling a little as he reaches to snag tate's hands and pin them loosely either side of his head. it's not long before nick is leaning back down to kiss him again, quickly kissing him slow and dirty with a slow grinding down to pair with it. )

[Tate snorts softly when Nick finally settles over him, directing his wrists back down against the mattress next to his head - and he doesn't fight it. His fingers flex and his hips rise in gentle retaliation, grinding back up against Nick once he's started to gyrate down on top of him. His head lolls back against the mattress and a heavy groan slips past his lips, which part into a crooked smile.]

I think I like you on top.

I think you like most things I do.

( that's a level of confidence that has been pretty absent for nick, lately. it's easier like this though, probably. something about control, even if nick isn't consciously thinking that point all the way through. he's not holding his breath quite as much, waiting for things to sour. when he ducks his head, he nips lightly at tate's throat. not hard enough to even leave a mark, just feeling things out for now. )

I think I do.

[Tate laughs, just - a barely there rumble in his throat beneath the press of Nick's lips, his head lolled back to draw the skin taut. He lets Nick continue to set his own pace, still keeping up with the rolls of his hips and adding a bit of push to it by using the heel of his shoe dug down into the mattress for leverage, grinding upward. It's harder to do from the bottom, but it's something - arms surrendered as they are, Tate tries to take this easy.]

I like this.

[He says, eyes up - staring off and away and not on Nick before he flutters his pale lashes and closes his eyes; he can hear the thrum of the club's music leak in around them and move through him in turn. The mattress is disgusting but in the state of mind he's in, also not half bad. Oh, and, his dick's now rock hard under Nick and nothing bad's bound to come from that - so he's happy.]

Yeah?

( nick hums the word against tate's throat, pressing a smile in there alongside the slightly harder bite. it's still not particularly hard, but nick soothes over the spot with his tongue anyway. at least until that makes him feel some kind of way, and nick slightly abruptly sits up.

it's too soon. this is a goddamn minefield and it hasn't even been a day, but he's nothing if not determined. nick lets up the grip on tate's wrists, only so that he can shift back a bit on tate's hips and start pulling at buttons and flies. at least one layer needs to go, fast. )

Can you get off like this?

( said with a roll of his hips, grinding down onto tate's hard cock until it's enough to get a low, drawn out moan from nick. )

Ah-

[The noise escapes Tate of its own accord, when Nick grinds down on him and asks him that question. A question he's not sure he likes, by merit of being horny and just wanting to fuck - but it's got an edging vibe to it with the way it makes blowing his load a bit more of a challenge. They'd have to work for it and Tate's not against that, but it'd be a lie to say it's his first choice. That said? That's not what he was asked.

Tate's face is flushed a pale pink, color creeping up his neck as sweat beads on his forehead beneath his messy blond bangs. He's grinding back, pitching up his hips to work against Nick as much as he can - otherwise laying back, hands limply staying where Nick's hands hold or leave them.]

Yeah, I think. It'll, ah. Take some work but - yeah, yeah... I could.

( he has to shift a bit to actually get tate's pants undone, sitting back more on his thighs than anything. he gets them open, but he's barely made a move to push them down before he changes direction, reaching up to shove tate's shirt up around his chest instead.

nick is...flighty. he can't make his mind up and he can't settle on where he wants to be. he slips his hand under where tate's shirt is hiked up so that he can spread his hand out against his skin, on the centre of his chest. )

Did you watch it?

( which isn't really 'not talking about it', but the question has been gnawing at him since tate's first message, and this seems as good a time as any to ask. which is to say it's terrible, but apparently the pressing need for an answer matters more to nick right now than the timing )

[Nick works in a semi-disjointed way, but Tate allows it. His stomach flexes after Nick stops pulling down his jeans, opting to bare it instead. He feels odd, but not in a bad way, as he's laying at Nick's mercy and there's this hot tremble of anticipation in his gut for it. He's watching his every move, eyes flicking down when his hand settles on his chest. He breathes in deep, heart a dull throb against his sternum underneath. He blinks a few times, staring up at Nick before he answers.]

No.

[He saw it, briefly, among a lot of other posts going live on the network. Tate doesn't often really browse it, and when he does it's more scrolling than anything else. He hardly, if ever, interacts with anything. Maybe it's just from growing up pre-social media, but it never really snags his attention unless someone he knows is on screen. And for a brief, fleeting second, he saw Nick. And a little of what was happening to him. Did he watch past that? No, not really.]

I saw a little, but it was enough to just - want to check in. I didn't - nobody should've seen all that. It was messed up, broadcasting it.

A lot of people watched. Or saw, at least.

( he knows, because he has an inbox full of messages to prove it. nick frowns down at tate for a beat, two, while he decides what he wants to do with that information. it bothers him a bit, but in a detached sort of way that he doesn't really feel connected to.

...but then maybe that's all the drugs.

still, it's enough for now. he bends and catches hold of tate's wrists again, squeezing just short off too hard and kissing him, hard and without warning. he stays close, even if not moving away much is kind of at odds with his next request. )

Take your clothes off. All of them, if you want to.

[Tate kisses him back with the same fierceness, chasing his lips even after they part away from one another and he feels anchored back against the bed. It's a mix of the feeling of Nick's hands on his wrists, the drugs at the back of his skull and the heaviness of the moment. He lifts his hips in one last roll before he starts to oblige, slithering a bit beneath Nick and waiting for the release of his wrists before he starts sliding out of his clothes. He doesn't care about where they are, the level of filth around them - nothing a hot shower can't wash off later.

While he works his arm out of his shirt, taking his time and not kicking Nick off of him - actually taking his time to better enjoy this - he looks at him for a long beat. Speaks between struggling moments of stripping.]

Is people seeing it that bothers you or - them treating you like glass because of it?

( for his own part, nick shifts around, still on his knees but not sat on top of tate's body any more. there's not a lot of room to work with, but it is possible at least. he pulls his own shirt over his head with only a little struggling, drops it carefully onto the mattress beside them.

it's one of those questions he hasn't thought about at all. deliberately, of course. the whole point of this trip out has been to avoid thinking about anything — and before this, all he'd done was hole up in his room and resist much contact with people. but tate asks the question, and nick can't very well ignore it.

or. he could, but maybe he doesn't entirely want to. he hums thoughtfully, drifts his hands to his own pants, but he doesn't do much more besides popping the button open and unzipping the fly, for the moment. )

People are already treating me differently. I'm not— I'm not fragile, I don't want people acting like I'm going to break at any minute.

Then you have to tell them that.

[Tate says, having wriggled out of his shirt but more or less left his pants to Nick's mercy - button also undone as he pulls his last arm free of his t-shirt and abandons it somewhere overhead. He exhales long and slow, lolling his head to the side and staring up at Nick with dark brown eyes, void of any particular emotion on his face. He's just - looking at him.]

If they're trying to take care of you, it means they care. But if you just ignore things, it'll just... keep feeling this way.

[Where solutions like what they're doing as an escape are the apparent best choices. He gives a weak shrug.]

I promise I won't treat you like that.

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