"...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.
"Don't apologize to me," Drake tells him, letting his arm drop back across Jesus' chest. "Making them obsolete is one of the only things this place has got right."
It's only after the words are out that he realizes how that sounds when Jesus just said he's trying to be better about them.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like--" He winces slightly, pressing a kiss to the other man's shoulder in apology. "My brain's still turning back on. That was amazing, we just got a little wound up."
Condoms will never be his favorite thing, but he promised Rosita he'd try.
He can't begrudge either of them for forgetting, though. Once he'd decided he wanted to press for more than just the slow, intense kisses they were exchanging, all other thoughts had fled.
This time had felt different than other times, and not just because a lot of those other times were Jesus mischievously doing his best to distract and seduce Drake away from whatever he was doing, just to see if he could. There was no play in this, no game, just...something else.
"I know. I'll remember next time. I know the city is supposed to protect us but Rosita has a point--who knows what the city might decide we pass along instead? I'm just trying to keep safe."
Drake will realize later that lack of game is why it felt so different. They've always been playful, challenging each other in some way even when it's not stated. Always meaningful, but fun in a way that keeps him guessing. This time, at least on his end, the only goal was expressing something. He was trying to make Jesus feel the things he couldn't just say, about how important the other man is to him. How he's starting to need Jesus around -- that's why it was so overwhelming. And so fucking good.
Right now he isn't thinking that much about it, though. Drake listens to the explanation that he hasn't gotten til now and nods his understanding, snuggling closer to enjoy the afterglow.
"Then we'll remember. Do you want me to wear them with everybody..?"
It's not like he has that many partners at this point, but they all have other partners because that's how it goes here, so.....
"No," he kisses him quickly. "No, you do what's comfortable for you. I'm only doing it because- I've just never had this many partners. I've never had more than one at a time. And I know, I'm not contagious, I'm not infected anymore, but sometimes I worry about it."
As Drake saw up on that rooftop not so long ago. Not a moment Jesus is proud of. "I'm just trying to feel like I'm keeping you all safe."
There's a brief moment where Drake almost feels guilty that Jesus isn't holding him to the same standard, but the kiss and explanation ease it.
"Is it helping?" he asks gently, curiously. "I remember what it was like, being contagious and with somebody who didn't have it... always trying to protect him from me. That's a lot of fear to carry around all the time. So if it's helping, you do whatever you need to."
"I'm glad." He means that, stealing another quick kiss and making a mental note to buy some so he'll always have them around. Actually... considering where they are? "You know, I've never really looked at the selection before. Maybe we could have some fun with it, trying whatever types they've come up with."
It doesn't have to be a reminder of anything bad for either of them. It can just be something different.
"Can you imagine the things they can get them to do here?" he grins, relieved Drake is on board with it. "We should go shopping. Pick up some cuffs, some magic condoms..."
Drake laughs, as someone who's used literal magic condoms before and found that sometimes nature already knew what it was doing. Who knows what they're got here, though?
"That's some shopping trip. Sure." He agrees easily, even though he's got one caveat. "Nothing too crazy, okay? I'm advance vetoing anything that claims to make physical changes, that's what toys are for."
"Tell me what you do like," he murmurs, kissing Drake's chest drowsily, not ready to sleep either--just floating blissfully in between waking and napping.
"For toys. Kinks." Drake is very good at giving Jesus whatever he wants, but in the process Jesus is always cautious about sidestepping what Drake wants.
"Oh." Drake laughs at his own misunderstanding, then shakes his head slightly. "I don't actually do much with toys, even here. That was kind of a hypothetical offer, if you wanted something... different. Nobody ever has."
Jesus has seen inside his drawers to know that he doesn't own any, but he does have a modest assortment of bondage and sensory play gear. They've only messed around with tying Jesus down, but if he glanced into where Drake keeps the nice rope he would have also seen leather cuffs, a soft flogger that didn't look very used, and a selection of candles and oils.
He seems to be intentionally ignoring the kink question, though.
"Well you know what I like." And he knows how much Jesus liked it. "I'm still figuring out what else I'm into. Give me some good direction; what are you into? What's something you want to try with me?"
Despite being here for two years, that's... not a question Drake's really gotten much. And he has to think about it for a moment, before giving an embarrassed shrug.
"I'm really easy. I'm into whatever gets you off, but if you were gonna put me in charge? My favorite thing is somebody surrendering completely. Trusting me enough to be helpless -- tell me what you want and maybe you'll get it, but only if I decide to give it to you." His voice slowly deepens as he goes on, rumbling low and intimate between them. "I've got some stuff to play with, but it's less about what I do to you and more how it happens. Maybe I drag it out until you can't think straight, until you're completely desperate but can't even remember how to tap out... but that's okay 'cuz I've got you. Maybe you won't be able to walk without feeling me tomorrow? Maybe I'm gonna get you off more times than you thought you could go in one night. Maybe I'm gonna mark you up, or hurt you just a little, so that if you're with anybody else they'll know what you let me do to you. I like somebody at my mercy but knowing they're safe, so that it's like there's no limits but you're never scared. You'll wanna come back."
He doesn't know that he expected anything in particular but this? This side of Drake surprises him and draws him in closer, has him kissing Drake like they aren't still recovering from a round of sex right now.
"I want that," he murmurs against Drake's lips. All of it. "I've never been good at surrendering but I want to try. I want you to mark me a little."
"You're not bad at it," Drake counters, remembering the first time Jesus said to tie him to the bed. "It wasn't as heavy as that, but you've let me have control before. I'd wanna talk about it, that's all. Make sure I don't come too close to a limit."
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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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It's only after the words are out that he realizes how that sounds when Jesus just said he's trying to be better about them.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like--" He winces slightly, pressing a kiss to the other man's shoulder in apology. "My brain's still turning back on. That was amazing, we just got a little wound up."
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He can't begrudge either of them for forgetting, though. Once he'd decided he wanted to press for more than just the slow, intense kisses they were exchanging, all other thoughts had fled.
This time had felt different than other times, and not just because a lot of those other times were Jesus mischievously doing his best to distract and seduce Drake away from whatever he was doing, just to see if he could. There was no play in this, no game, just...something else.
"I know. I'll remember next time. I know the city is supposed to protect us but Rosita has a point--who knows what the city might decide we pass along instead? I'm just trying to keep safe."
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Right now he isn't thinking that much about it, though. Drake listens to the explanation that he hasn't gotten til now and nods his understanding, snuggling closer to enjoy the afterglow.
"Then we'll remember. Do you want me to wear them with everybody..?"
It's not like he has that many partners at this point, but they all have other partners because that's how it goes here, so.....
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As Drake saw up on that rooftop not so long ago. Not a moment Jesus is proud of. "I'm just trying to feel like I'm keeping you all safe."
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"Is it helping?" he asks gently, curiously. "I remember what it was like, being contagious and with somebody who didn't have it... always trying to protect him from me. That's a lot of fear to carry around all the time. So if it's helping, you do whatever you need to."
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He wonders what it must have been like for Ephemera and Drake, and not for the first time wishes Ephemera was around.
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It doesn't have to be a reminder of anything bad for either of them. It can just be something different.
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"That's some shopping trip. Sure." He agrees easily, even though he's got one caveat. "Nothing too crazy, okay? I'm advance vetoing anything that claims to make physical changes, that's what toys are for."
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It'd be easy to just drift off right now, but he's not actually sleepy. Just falls quiet, touch skimming up and down Jesus' arm affectionately.
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Jesus has seen inside his drawers to know that he doesn't own any, but he does have a modest assortment of bondage and sensory play gear. They've only messed around with tying Jesus down, but if he glanced into where Drake keeps the nice rope he would have also seen leather cuffs, a soft flogger that didn't look very used, and a selection of candles and oils.
He seems to be intentionally ignoring the kink question, though.
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"I'm really easy. I'm into whatever gets you off, but if you were gonna put me in charge? My favorite thing is somebody surrendering completely. Trusting me enough to be helpless -- tell me what you want and maybe you'll get it, but only if I decide to give it to you." His voice slowly deepens as he goes on, rumbling low and intimate between them. "I've got some stuff to play with, but it's less about what I do to you and more how it happens. Maybe I drag it out until you can't think straight, until you're completely desperate but can't even remember how to tap out... but that's okay 'cuz I've got you. Maybe you won't be able to walk without feeling me tomorrow? Maybe I'm gonna get you off more times than you thought you could go in one night. Maybe I'm gonna mark you up, or hurt you just a little, so that if you're with anybody else they'll know what you let me do to you. I like somebody at my mercy but knowing they're safe, so that it's like there's no limits but you're never scared. You'll wanna come back."
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"I want that," he murmurs against Drake's lips. All of it. "I've never been good at surrendering but I want to try. I want you to mark me a little."
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