Well, he isn't bolting up to leap off the balcony, so Drake figures that wasn't too far after all. They fall into another comfortable silence, and when Jesus pulls back to look at him Drake eases his grip and lets him.
His smile at that admission is warm and fond.
"Sure isn't. A healthy relationship has boundaries, not..." he searches for a good simile, and after a moment his smile quirks towards a smirk. "Not blockades and caution tape?"
"Better? That bar's already pretty high, but... I think if you wanna explore a boyfriend kind of connection, you're in a better place for one now. Somewhere you could be happy instead of hurt, with somebody who knows you're worth the risk too."
There's a pressure in his chest now, but it's not quite an ache. Just a tangle of emotion welling up that Jesus can see in his eyes, too complex to put a pin on. There's grief, and worry, but also something bright and hopeful for Jesus because Drake believes what he's saying. Even if he's a little frightened saying it. The balcony really is right there, after all. At least it's clear (he hopes) he isn't implying himself. He huffs, clears his throat, and then his voice is a little rough as he finishes what he was saying.
"You deserve to be happy in every way you can find, Jesus."
"Hey, I'm not the one who needs convincing here," he protests, only half-joking. For only managing one successful relationship in his life that was sometimes difficult, and as much as the loss hurts... it was also absolutely worth having. Drake doesn't regret it, he'd do it again in a heartbeat. "What'd your friend back home say? You should give it a try."
"Well lemme know if she shows up here, I need to balance the scale with your friends." That comment is a bit more than half-joking... but still not entirely, despite his lighter tone. He intentionally doesn't linger on it, though, changing the subject back to Jesus. "You feeling a little better about John? 'Cuz I'm worried I might need your help with K soon. How many guys can you look after at once?"
"I have plenty of care to go around," he promises, brightening a little at the prospect of helping out.
"I know K's struggling with the contract. With even the idea of it. I don't know what he'll do but I hope when he signs with someone--even if it's not you--I can get the good to make it worth it to him to stay out of prison."
"At least he's willing to try. That's what he told me, anyway, that he promised you and wants to keep that promise... but he's obviously stuck between that and not wanting to sign at all. Do you know if he's considering anybody else? We got into contract terms and I'm not sure if him saying I should write it up was avoidance or a sign he might back out entirely."
Drake brow furrows -- he's worried about K. They aren't close, not by his standard and definitely not by K's, but the replicant is just one of Those People for Drake. Someone he meets and wants to help with everything in him. It's tough when people like that don't let him.
"I'm gonna give him space until his grace period's about up, I think. Then if he doesn't answer maybe you could go check in, turn those big pretty eyes on him? Desperate measures, but he feels like another one who just needs to live something to believe it. He can't imagine it not being horrible, you know?"
"I think he's always going to be on the lookout for it to be hard. Losing V was...it was rough on him." On Jesus, too, but he swallows that down. "I think he blames himself for V disappearing and he's worried it'll happen to you, too. It's irrational so it's not even something he can be talked out of...you know how those fears are."
The ones that just exist, regardless of logic or evidence.
"That's why I figured I might be easier for him to consider me, though. It won't hurt him if I disappear." Not like V, a painful loss. Like Sara would be, or Jesus, or Vrenille... not like his friends. "He did use that word himself, about feeling like I'd be another owner. 'Irrational.' Said he'd have to ignore it to move forward, but it's still important. I told him that, and that I'm not going to ignore it. No idea if it meant anything. He didn't seem to understand why I care at all."
"No one's really cared about him before. I think sometimes he doesn't know that I care." Or that it's conditional, that Jesus will change his mind. "He's kind... even if you two didn't know each other he'd hurt if he caused you to vanish. And he knows I care about you."
"...like he's always waiting for things to go wrong?" Drake asks softly, remembering their conversation after the Marked party. "Good thing signing's not gonna make me vanish, then."
"Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easy. I'm not self sacrificing enough anymore to give up on a good thing."
Jesus has about two seconds to catch his grin turning mischievous and wonder what that might mean, before Drake is shifting so that he's got the smaller man pinned under his weight. Not all of it, since he prefers Jesus breathing, but enough to play at trapping him.
"Which reminds me... did you actually want me to get handcuffs?"
"Oh you're asking me that now?" He is only too happy to be pinned under him. He slides his hand down Drake's side and over the slope of his ass. "How do you feel about the cuffs?"
It's a more important question. Yes, Jesus would enjoy playing with them, but Drake was the cop, Drake might have residual feelings about playing that way, like K had at first.
Don't encourage him, Jesus! Or do. That's his prerogative, and Drake certainly isn't complaining. He does give the question serious consideration, though.
"It's just for fun. I can make it look and sound real... feel real, if that gets you off. As long as you know it's not us, and promise to safe word out if you ever wanna stop? I'm down." Generally speaking he gets into whatever his partner is easily just because it's hot that they're so into it, but it means a lot that Jesus is taking his history into consideration. That's not something he's used to badge bunnies giving a shit about, since it's the entire kink. He holds Jesus' gaze a moment, eyes intent. "Promise me?"
"...I know you do." Which is weird for him, to be so certain it's the truth when they've barely known each other half a year. That doesn't happen often. It wouldn't take him one hand to count the people who have, and yet here Jesus is looking him in the eyes and meaning it.
Drake breathes out, pressing his face into Jesus' palm just slightly.
"It's just in case. Same as my promises, the line's the line. Red means stop, your space needs an invitation, if something feels wrong we tell each other and figure it out together. That's why you can trust me. Even with the contract."
"Red means stop for you, too. If I ask too much, if I put too much pressure on you, if it's not fun for you." He's still holding Drake's gaze, his thumb strokes his cheek. "Promise?"
There's no hesitation before Drake's response, just a softening of his expression. Still serious, but warm and grateful.
"I promise." It's not something he's ever been good at and those conversations certainly aren't easy, but it's getting less frightening to have them with Jesus. Instead Drake's mostly afraid he'll seem too comfortable. Too fond, and that'll be what sets the other man running. Or that was the fear until... now.
Now, it's more like hope. That maybe eventually he won't have to hold so much back. That Jesus will find somebody who helps him prove to himself these sort of feelings aren't something he needs to avoid, so he won't run. That they can just be whatever they are without the caution tape.
Drake leans in and kisses Jesus far more sweetly than their current pose and talk of handcuffs would usually call for.
He seems to drink this kiss in like he's been parched for this sort of affection. He kisses Drake back, parting his lips for him, fingers stroking through his hair.
There were moments he'd thought of getting up and pacing, of changing the topic, of just leaving the conversation somehow. But he hadn't and he feels accomplished for it, like he's earned the attention Drake is giving him now.
Sweet isn't the sort of kiss that's most common, in this city. And it is almost purely affection, at the start. There's always a hint of interest there, but this kiss' intent is maybe a two on the scale of love to lust. Warmth rather than heat, although the longer it drags on... well.
They're only human.
It feels different in a way Drake decides not to examine too closely, when Jesus starts shifting against him needily but the kiss is still sweet. Progressively deeper, hotter, but more than when they're just having some fun. On his end, anyway. And neither of them make even the slightest effort to stop.
The next hour and change passes in a haze of desperate touches, trading focus on one another back and forth in an almost agonizingly slow build of sensation. Neither of them are teasing, just so wrapped up in each other that they'd rather drag it out than let it end. Drake finds himself nearly overwhelmed by it several times before it seems like they both are at once, until finally he's catching his breath against the nape of Jesus' neck and barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of the smaller man.
It takes him a solid minute to regain a sense of whose limbs are whose, at which point he does gently disentangle himself from Jesus and collapse against and beside him rather than directly on top. They're in bed now, he acknowledges distantly, clothes abandoned back on the living room floor before either of them had realized it was an inadequate setting. And then Drake realizes something else, as his higher brain function returns.
"Shit. Didn't you want-- sorry, babe," he murmurs breathlessly, reaching up to brush Jesus' hair off his forehead. Because of course at some point he'd pulled the tie out. "Totally forgot."
"Forgot what?" Jesus pants, still tangled up with Drake and not ready yet to let him move too far away. Then he remembers and winces. "Shit. I'm trying to be better about that, I just... Sorry."
Rosita's face isn't one he wants to picture while he's naked and sticky from sex, but all the same he can picture her rolling her eyes at him in frustration.
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He doesn't say anything, just enjoys this, just lets himself think. Eventually he pulls back.
"I have been deciding for other people," he admits. "Choosing for them how close they could get to me. And that's not fair."
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His smile at that admission is warm and fond.
"Sure isn't. A healthy relationship has boundaries, not..." he searches for a good simile, and after a moment his smile quirks towards a smirk. "Not blockades and caution tape?"
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Not this one, not today, though.
"I think I can be better." He sees a way towards doing it, anyway, which is more than he had before.
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There's a pressure in his chest now, but it's not quite an ache. Just a tangle of emotion welling up that Jesus can see in his eyes, too complex to put a pin on. There's grief, and worry, but also something bright and hopeful for Jesus because Drake believes what he's saying. Even if he's a little frightened saying it. The balcony really is right there, after all. At least it's clear (he hopes) he isn't implying himself. He huffs, clears his throat, and then his voice is a little rough as he finishes what he was saying.
"You deserve to be happy in every way you can find, Jesus."
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"So do you, Drake," he says, even though he knows with a loss like his so recent it might not feel like it.
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Pushing Jesus to try.
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"I know K's struggling with the contract. With even the idea of it. I don't know what he'll do but I hope when he signs with someone--even if it's not you--I can get the good to make it worth it to him to stay out of prison."
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Drake brow furrows -- he's worried about K. They aren't close, not by his standard and definitely not by K's, but the replicant is just one of Those People for Drake. Someone he meets and wants to help with everything in him. It's tough when people like that don't let him.
"I'm gonna give him space until his grace period's about up, I think. Then if he doesn't answer maybe you could go check in, turn those big pretty eyes on him? Desperate measures, but he feels like another one who just needs to live something to believe it. He can't imagine it not being horrible, you know?"
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"I think he's always going to be on the lookout for it to be hard. Losing V was...it was rough on him." On Jesus, too, but he swallows that down. "I think he blames himself for V disappearing and he's worried it'll happen to you, too. It's irrational so it's not even something he can be talked out of...you know how those fears are."
The ones that just exist, regardless of logic or evidence.
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Jesus has about two seconds to catch his grin turning mischievous and wonder what that might mean, before Drake is shifting so that he's got the smaller man pinned under his weight. Not all of it, since he prefers Jesus breathing, but enough to play at trapping him.
"Which reminds me... did you actually want me to get handcuffs?"
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It's a more important question. Yes, Jesus would enjoy playing with them, but Drake was the cop, Drake might have residual feelings about playing that way, like K had at first.
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"It's just for fun. I can make it look and sound real... feel real, if that gets you off. As long as you know it's not us, and promise to safe word out if you ever wanna stop? I'm down." Generally speaking he gets into whatever his partner is easily just because it's hot that they're so into it, but it means a lot that Jesus is taking his history into consideration. That's not something he's used to badge bunnies giving a shit about, since it's the entire kink. He holds Jesus' gaze a moment, eyes intent. "Promise me?"
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"I promise." He lays a hand on Drake's cheek. "But there isn't much that would make me opt out. I trust you."
In more ways than he'd realized; it's sinking in now.
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Drake breathes out, pressing his face into Jesus' palm just slightly.
"It's just in case. Same as my promises, the line's the line. Red means stop, your space needs an invitation, if something feels wrong we tell each other and figure it out together. That's why you can trust me. Even with the contract."
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"I promise." It's not something he's ever been good at and those conversations certainly aren't easy, but it's getting less frightening to have them with Jesus. Instead Drake's mostly afraid he'll seem too comfortable. Too fond, and that'll be what sets the other man running. Or that was the fear until... now.
Now, it's more like hope. That maybe eventually he won't have to hold so much back. That Jesus will find somebody who helps him prove to himself these sort of feelings aren't something he needs to avoid, so he won't run. That they can just be whatever they are without the caution tape.
Drake leans in and kisses Jesus far more sweetly than their current pose and talk of handcuffs would usually call for.
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There were moments he'd thought of getting up and pacing, of changing the topic, of just leaving the conversation somehow. But he hadn't and he feels accomplished for it, like he's earned the attention Drake is giving him now.
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They're only human.
It feels different in a way Drake decides not to examine too closely, when Jesus starts shifting against him needily but the kiss is still sweet. Progressively deeper, hotter, but more than when they're just having some fun. On his end, anyway. And neither of them make even the slightest effort to stop.
The next hour and change passes in a haze of desperate touches, trading focus on one another back and forth in an almost agonizingly slow build of sensation. Neither of them are teasing, just so wrapped up in each other that they'd rather drag it out than let it end. Drake finds himself nearly overwhelmed by it several times before it seems like they both are at once, until finally he's catching his breath against the nape of Jesus' neck and barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of the smaller man.
It takes him a solid minute to regain a sense of whose limbs are whose, at which point he does gently disentangle himself from Jesus and collapse against and beside him rather than directly on top. They're in bed now, he acknowledges distantly, clothes abandoned back on the living room floor before either of them had realized it was an inadequate setting. And then Drake realizes something else, as his higher brain function returns.
"Shit. Didn't you want-- sorry, babe," he murmurs breathlessly, reaching up to brush Jesus' hair off his forehead. Because of course at some point he'd pulled the tie out. "Totally forgot."
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Rosita's face isn't one he wants to picture while he's naked and sticky from sex, but all the same he can picture her rolling her eyes at him in frustration.
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