extent | duplicitynet

( the room is distinctly more lived in than the last time tate saw it, and distinctly more witchy as a result. there's belongings scattered about everywhere, not exactly messy but very cluttered. sloppy scrawls label a handful of nondescript bottles on his desk, there's plants everywhere sprouting out of everything from pots to mugs, and there's a handful of crystals on his bedside table. one of which is clearly bloody — freshly so, if the hand nick has raised in the air from his position lying on the bed gives any indication. the raised arm is clenched into a fist to clot up the bleeding, the other hand holding the device above his head where he idly scrolls.

not particularly surprisingly, when tate walks in he drops the device. )

Jesus, ( it doesn't land on his face, but it's close. still, he's grinning when he sits up, and he doesn't ask tate to stop, so nick can't actually mind all that much. ) what if I hadn't taken down the wards yet? You could have ended up scattered into a million pieces for all I know.

Maybe that's my kink. Decimation.

[Tate cocks his head to the side, letting his camera rest against his chest by the strap around his neck. He's got a backpack with him, resting on one shoulder as he looks around. He's got an appreciation for the greenery and half a mind to try and remember to ask Nick for some help adding a touch of it to his home too. It's not something he thought about before which is kind of ironic considering he lives out in the woods.]

Do you need to put them back up while I'm here or anything? I don't know how your witchy shit goes.

[But hey, that's blood. His brows raise accordingly.]

Well, you know me. I try not to judge. ( the picture perfect display of innocence as he leans over to scoop up the other, unbloodied crystal. ) I think you're the only one breaking in.

( but it looks pretty neat, which is as valid a reason as any to do something. there's not very many showy things about nick's magic — but then, this isn't nick's magic. it's someone else's warding, over the top and excessive for a bedroom door, but in the immediate aftermath of last week's incident it had seemed pretty vital. now that the immediate paranoia has passed, he mostly just likes having a lock, even if it is a ...heavy duty one. )

Come look at this.

( helpfully, he's still bleeding a little, so nick doesn't actually have to do much. he just presses the crystal into the cut on his palm and drops it onto a blank spot on the carpet. immediately smoky purple symbols light up across the patch of floor in front of the door, lingering a moment before they start to fade away again. )

It's only supposed to need like, a drop of blood, I just slipped earlier. Cool though, right?

Yeah, hella cool.

[Tate's got a half grin on his face that's partly teasing; but he's got to admit it's interesting as always to see magic up front. He wonders what the ward would do to someone trying to break through it and if decimated was a word that really could describe it. The temptation to go over and touch the purple symbols is, well, strong. But he passes it up and instead gestures to Nick to show him his hand and that slipped cut.]

It hurt?

You're so fucking rude sometimes.

( his own laugh is all tease, and he picks the latest bloodied crystal back up off the floor before wandering back closer to tate. he quickly holds out his hand, palm up, and wriggles his fingers a little even though it makes blood bead around all that diligent work he'd put into getting it to clot.

the new wound on his hand isn't anything dramatic – it's a little bloody by virtue of being on the hand, long, but fairly shallow. exactly like someone stopped paying attention at the wrong moment and dragged a knife further than intended. the cut runs more or less parallel with the old scarring already running along his palm, but this fact doesn't seem to be any more of a problem than the cut itself. )

Don't text and slice or something, right? It'll go away eventually.

[Tate also resists the urge to drag his thumb over the slice on Nick's hand, his fingers skimming the backside of it beneath it before pulling away as if he's investigated it enough. He cants his head to the side after a beat and just looks up at Nick before moving over to invade his bed by virtue of sitting on the edge of it uninvited.]

You know how many nerve endings are in your hand? Of all the places to cut, idiot.

[But that's the magical appeal, right? Ritualistic hand slices?]

So. Drugs?

Edited (w o w) 2021-03-29 18:10 (UTC)

Easy access, though.

( in the case of the fucked up, magical scarring it had been his hand wrapped around a knife and the knife yanked out of the fist, but then speed and panic had been the name of the game then. now he thinks it's probably just a habit more than anything, returning back to that same spot.

instead of following tate over to the bed, nick turns to the desk until he can find a specific small box, with a handful of samples for things he's working on but hasn't tried yet. he crosses back over to tate with it in tow, but kicks his feet apart lightly and stands a little between them. )

And there was me thinking you'd become overwhelmed by lust. Do you want to try something now, or take it home? You can't sue if you die.

As fun as it'd be to make you take your wards down and book it - I'm bored, let's go.

[He's here for the something now, guinea-pig style. Tate's lips twitch into a tinge of a smile after Nick's nudged his sneakers to part farther and his hands slide down his thighs to his knees with a flex of his fingers against them. Nick just has this way of snagging his attention and making his dick stir to attention with ease. Tate cocks his head and focuses on what Nick's brought over.]

I was serious though. You break my dick, and it's over for you.

What are you going to do about it?

( he digs through until he finds two neatly pre-rolled joints in a bag with a blue sticker jammed onto the corner. the sticker means absolutely nothing, nick's organisation system relies much more heavily on his innate sense of knowing what he's holding rather than labels as a rule. he holds it out then, dangling the bag in front of tate's face but stopping short of actually handing it over. there's a lighter in one of his pockets too, but he isn't fishing it out just yet. )

This isn't that horny, it's just supposed to make you like— sensitive, I guess.

Sensitive.

[Tate echoes, curiouser and curiouser. It might actually be something of a joke someone could make - how Tate doesn't need to be any more sensitive than he is already for how close to the edge he often is emotionally. But thankfully Nick hasn't seen that side of him, pushy and childlike with indignation, so here they are. He doesn't reach to take the baggie; he's staring through and past it, up at Nick.]

Supposed to make me sensitive. You sure? Looking for confidence here.

You said you wanted to be a guinea pig.

( he is, at least, pretty confident that nothing nick has will actively cause any harm. sure, there's a little unpredictability in that it's tate trying things and not nick, but he's not particularly worried. maybe he could stand to be a little more concerned, but it's all worked out so far. something of a theme for nick, really - push on forward and have everything work out, until it doesn't. )

I tried this before and it was fine, just really weak. It just makes everything feel— more. Like touch, it shouldn't make you cry.

( shouldn't. probably. )

Yeah, well...

[He leans forward ever so slightly, as if to underline the fact he's putting some trust in Nick here but still has to take a minor leap of faith with him. He lifts his hand, cupping it a few inches under the baggie and expectantly looking up at Nick now. Hyping up the concept of touch is... appealing, he thinks. As long as it's not in a crazy hyper sensitive way. But he's all in, right?]

Gimme a light an' we'll see. I am expecting some good touches to try it out, too. Just sayin'.

( nick drops the bagged joints into tate's waiting hand, and he had more or less assumed that tate was on board regardless, but he still looks very pleased to have his suspicions confirmed. maybe he'll question at some point why more and more it seems everything they do together has an element of risk involved, but honestly he just isn't thinking about it that deeply.

he fishes out a lighter from his pocket, drops that into the waiting hand as well, and then flashes his own bloodied one. )

I'm gonna go clean this up, then I'll touch you all you want. You can get started— do you uh, want me to pull the wards first? ( this is maybe something that should have occurred to him before he decided to show off the magical set ups. )

I'm the only one that can go in and out while they're up, I don't want you freaking out or trying to vaporise yourself or some shit while I'm in the bathroom.

I won't freak out, keep me captive.

[He smirks a bit after taking what he's been given between both hands, digging in to fish out one of the pre-rolls and put it between his lips so he can set the rest aside and put a light to the tip of it. He takes in a long drag almost immediately, holding it in before letting it out through his nose. He waggles his brows at Nick on the topic of being his now pretty confined play-toy, before flopping back to lay across the bed and smoke while staring up at the ceiling and waiting for Nick to settle himself and come back.]

I've been trapped in worse places.

Dont make it weird. And don't touch anything.

( he's pretty sure there's nothing dangerous lying around, but it never hurts to be careful.

nick is only gone long enough to wash his hands, heal up the last of the oozing cut. the whole process only takes a few minutes, and when he walks back in he's still drying off the backs of his hands on his shirt.

tate has made himself comfortable, which is...pleasant. he's not going to think about that too hard, because it comes back around to that trust thing that he's trying not to examine too hard. too much closeness inevitably spells nick trying to ruin it, somehow, and nick doesn't know enough about their friendship yet to be sure they could move past something like that. he doesn't exactly think he could get away with an unwarranted screaming match here, at least. )

How's it settling, anything yet?

( though they won't know much without testing the intended purpose, so nick stretches out on the bed beside tate and reaches out to touch his elbow. somewhere easy, to start, in case it's too intense too quickly. )

[Tate snickers at that, but he obliges Nick and doesn't get up to wander around and stick his nose in anything that might end up singeing it. Instead he just stays flat out on his back, one arm stretched out to the side and the other periodically bringing the slow burning joint to his lips for a drag. He's not taking it slow but he's also not speeding through it - closing his eyes and enjoying the silence until Nick's back and next to him.

He touches his elbow and Tate's eyes flutter open, head tilting to the side and his gaze dropping to Nick's fingertips. His own twitch around the joint, and he can't be sure if he's got any boost to that but he does think it felt like a wanted jolt. But he's a horny teen and that could mean anything.]

Can't tell. Gimme a little more.

That's very demanding.

( coming from nick of all people that's laughable, but he walks his fingers along tate's arm idly all the same. he keeps going like that until he reaches his chest, which he smoothes across in a slow, sweeping gesture. all the while he watches tate carefully, curiously, cataloguing the reactions. believe it or not, nick actually takes this stuff mostly seriously. it's his job, after all.

not so serious that he can't have a little fun though. nick shifts, ducks his head until he can press his lips to the same spot where his hands started, following them along slowly. )

Tell me what it feels like. Is it tingling, or is it like...a rush?

It's...

["Hard to describe" is a cop out answer, he thinks, which is the only reason he doesn't let it slip past his lips. Tate's usually very receptive to touch - it's a way of showing someone or being shown by someone that you're important, or that they like you. This is that but then it's something else, a shiver of goosebumps across his skin as the downy soft hair on his arms stands on end. Nick's lips travel the same footsteps of his fingertips, and Tate feels - something. He feels elated, tickled, a little bit too-sensitive but only for a flicker of a second as the touch seeps in. Like cold water for a fraction of a second feeling hot, the senses are on high alert.

Tate lets out a breath through his teeth, hissing out of him as his chest deflates and he feels like his tongue is tied up. How do you describe a feeling? He wets his lower lip with a swipe of his tongue and looks at Nick's hand, alternating with a glance up towards his face. Wide eyed, expectant.]

Like waves. Warm, and exciting. They roll right through me - light, but good.

That's good, that's cool. Tell me if anything changes.

( he does a lot of trial and error with these things, but it's usually on himself. having someone else guinea pig a product before it gets to the final product stage is actually pretty interesting, as it turns out. nick watches with a real fascination as he smooths his palm across tate's chest, less and less nervous at the prospect of something going wrong.

he ducks his head to the sensitive skin on tate's inner arm, digs his teeth in and follows up by pressing his lips over the faint mark it leaves. his hand wanders, dragging slowly from tate's chest until it settles low on his stomach, and nick smirks. )

Any dick trouble?

[Tate's lips part like he's going to say something but then he has to close his mouth, swallowing hard once Nick's teeth pinch at his skin. It's such a small thing - nothing that would've been particularly enticing before, but it just feels different. Nick asks about his dick and Tate actually laughs, a hard exhale and a show of his teeth before his head lolls back and he sighs.]

Quite the opposite, actually.

[He grunts, slipping one of his hands down to grope himself through his jeans. They're a bit tight now, the harder he gets from something so small.]

Good.

( nick contemplates having some himself, but in the end it's more fun to see what he can tease out of tate, like this. he shifts closer on his side, tangling a leg around tate's and scratching his nails lightly across tate's stomach.

his head tilts to watch tate's hand movement for a moment, and he reaches down his own to press at the back of tate's hand, push his palm down harder. then he stretches back up so that he can hover near his mouth. close enough that their lips brush a few times as he speaks. )

You're not going to cry if I kiss you, right?

I might if you don't.

[Tate wants to feel it, the more pressure there is behind each touch the more it feels... real, if that's the best way to describe it. It makes him certain that he's present, solid and tangible and it's having a little bit of an unintended psychological effect on one post-death teenager whose existence sometimes feels less than stable.]

C'mon.

You should learn to say please.

( but nick has no commitment to that. he's already closing that little gap, tilting his head and pushing up a little so he can really kiss tate. deep and filthy, right away without any teasing. he reaches around blindly, until he can worm his fingers into the waistband of tate's pants.

he's mostly focused on the kissing though, on the slide of his tongue against tate's and the drag of his teeth against his lower lip. tate's already casually touching himself, nick can take over later. )

[Tate isn't usually this quick to make a sound - he's barely been touched but the grunt comes right out of him, pried past his lips when they crash gently against Nick's. He leans into the kiss right away, lips parted and his tongue sliding back; he exhales sharply through his nose and lifts one hand to cup Nick's cheek and to slide down the side of his neck. His fingertips drag, like he's not even sure what he's doing, shuddering gently while he bucks his hips up at the slightest addition of Nick's fingers by his beltline.

He wants to be touched. He wants to feel Nick more than he does already, so rather than continue to nearly grope himself he uses that other hand to slide in after Nick's fingers - guiding them to his cock quick and needy, groaning again into the kiss as he pretty much uses Nick's hand to rut against.]

( at first, nick is content enough to let tate just grind up into his waiting palm. it's all fascinating, seeing the way he's already groaning after his touch like this. they've fucked around enough now that nick can see there's a difference, and he squeezes lightly at his dick right in time with a well placed nip of his teeth, again, just to see how it might make tate writhe.

very quickly, he wants to see more. he breaks the kiss, just to see if tate will chase him for it. he wraps his fingers around tate's cock and gives him one full, slow stroke, just to see what sounds he'll make. )

How does that feel?

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