wastedcreation | open post

RP here baybee

Sebastian looks at him again, for longer this time, considering this. His adaptive tech must have a difficult time picking up on just once voice in a crowd, feeding him a bunch of word soup.

"That makes sense."

Seb feels like that all the time, but especially on spy missions, and especially when he's high on this herb, apparently.

"I hate crowded places too, but ironically, it's mostly because they're too loud." He smiles wryly in return.

Feeling the weight of Sebastian's gaze on him, Devero lays his head over to look back. His smile returns, just from being close and sharing this empty hilltop (and, admittedly, still pretty warm and floaty from the herb).

"Does it get overwhelming?" he asks. "Having to hear everything, when you're stuck in a crowded place?"

Tox nods.

"Hearing everything, seeing everything, people bumping into you, trying to stay out of the way..." He lists these things like grievances. "It makes me feel ill sometimes. Other people don't seem to mind as much, I don't know." He shrugs. It's partly his heightened senses that make everything overwhelming, but he can't imagine liking crowds without them, either.

Devero's immediate instinct is to offer Seb solutions. Has he tried an Interface visor that can dampen or filter out stimuli, or taken advantage of the sensory rooms that most busy public places have tucked into out of the way corners? He goes as far as pushing up on an elbow preparatory to launching into it--

And only then remembers that this is Outsider territory. They don't use Interfaces out here, and he suspects that they're not hiding decompression rooms for folks with sensory disorders in their buildings' broom closets.

Letting himself back down again, Devero sighs. "That sounds rough," is what he says instead. "It's hard having different thresholds from most other people."

Seb looks up with interest at what Devero is going to say, but then he seems to change his mind.

"Yeah. It has benefits, though." He shrugs. Mostly ones he can't talk about much.

"Like... Right now, there's crickets all around. They sound nice. And the stars are pretty."

He looks at Devero again.

"Is it rude to ask if you've always been deaf?"

"The stars are pretty." Even if he can't hear the crickets, at least there's that.

"No, it's not," he answers readily, "and yes, I have. I was born this way."

"Wow..." So he has no idea what crickets sound like at all. Even if Seb explained it, he wonders if it would make any sense.

"All that fancy tech, and they haven't figured out a way for you to hear?"

If that's rude, then at least it's in character.

"I mean, they have," Devero says, shrugging against the dirt. "There are Implants available that could probably make me hearing, at least to a certain extent. But I declined them."

That's curious. He looks at Devero.

"Why?"

"Because they didn't seem worth the effort," he says, looking up at the stars as he explains. "The implantation surgery is the easy part. Once the new hardware's installed, your brain has to actually learn how to hear, and apparently that hurts like hell. For months. No thanks."

Tox thinks of his own augment. Having his arm amputated and replaced by a magically-powered bionic one, and having to heal and re-learn how to use his own arm. It hurt, it was incredibly difficult, and the end result wasn't really that much better than his old arm. In some ways, worse.

"I understand."

Devero looks over at him, a bit...surprised, perhaps? "Thank you," he says with a little smile. "I appreciate that."

He can imagine not everyone understands. Most people would find it a no-brainer that having hearing would be something Devero wants badly enough to make all that worth it. But as aforementioned, Seb knows senses are a blessing and a curse. He can relate to sounds being painful, and it sounds like hell for that to happen for months.

He smiles back at Devero and rolls on his side to face him. For a moment, he just looks at the other man, taking him in. His body feels warm, like it's buzzing with a strange energy, his blood flowing differently. It's making him feel sort of oddly aroused, or maybe it's Devero doing that. Either way, he's trying to ignore it.

"Can you teach me another word?"

A moment after Seb, Devero rolls to his side as well. He can feel the other man's eyes on him, feels warm himself, feels seen in a way that he never would have expected an outsider could see him.

"Sure," he says, and flicks the translation off for a second to demonstrate a motion of the fingers of one hand from his mouth to extended fingers of the other. He feels dizzy, giddy, reckless-- knows it's the herb, damn him, but that doesn't stop him from repeating the motion, his expression open and inviting and hopeful.

Sebastian examines Devero, curious and open, both wanting to learn and wondering what word came first to Dev's mind. He mirrors the movement, fingers from mouth to other hand. Maybe it's speaking, or...

"What's that?"

Devero takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders (as much as he can, laying on his side in the dirt like this), and shoots his shot: "Kiss. It means kiss. Kiss me, maybe?"

Sebastian's stomach does a flip, and he looks dumbfounded, mouth falling agape. Then he averts his gaze, too scared to look into Dev's eyes again.

"You... You want...?"

It takes him a moment to process this. It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to kiss him, just for the sake of kissing and not as a means to an end of reproduction. There are so many rules against this, so many warnings, so much shame piled on through propaganda. He should feel ashamed for even considering it, but right now, out on the edge of some surface town with nothing around them but an expanse of stars, under the influence of something that's making him feel strangely nice, with a stranger whose laugh is infectious and who makes him feel human and seen and cared for, somehow the shame isn't present whatsoever.

He is, however, extremely nervous. Terrified. He still isn't able to meet Devero's gaze, but his hand reaches out for his arm.

He wants it.

"Okay."

Devero waits, watching hopefully in the dim light but not pressing Seb at all. He knows there's a chance he's misread the warmth in the air between them-- knows also that even if he hasn't misread it, that it might not be acceptable around here, or something Seb has an issue with personally, or--

But then Seb reaches out for him, and says okay, and Devero smiles brilliantly at him. "Okay!" he repeats, then covers Seb's hand with his own. He gives it a tug, inviting him closer. "Come here."

Seb has to glance shyly at that smile, and it only further endears him... Puppy dog.

His breath hitches with that tug, and he moves in closer. His arm slides further over Dev's shoulder. There's less than an inch between their bodies now, but Sebastian doesn't get close enough for them to come flush with each other, as though there's some invisible mental barrier between them that he won't let himself cross. Their faces come close, and he's suddenly struggling to catch his breath, overwhelmed by Devero's scent, the warmth of his body so close, how big and muscular he is, how handsome. The desire he has to touch and be touched is immense, but so is his fear, his father's voice in his head insisting that this is forbidden. He feels feverishly desperate, and yet, he cannot bring himself to kiss him.

Again Devero waits, giving him a moment even as he enjoys the increased proximity. He likes the way Seb fits in his arms, likes the disparity in their sizes-- not as a power thing, but just because he appreciates how they complement.

Close as they are, of course, he can't miss the nerves Seb is showing, the way his breathing seems to be getting choppy. He strokes his big hand down Seb's side, then up his back, smiling and steady. He wants to reassure him that this is okay, that they're alone here and safe, but this close together he can't easily sign. So he just tilts his head down to close the distance, and catches Seb's lips gently with his own.

The big hand spreads warmth and electricity through him, his body reacting immediately with more arousal. It is comforting, too, making this feel more like a romp with a friend than a stranger.

When their lips meet, when that invisible barrier has finally been crossed, his floodgates open. After the first soft chaste one, he initiates the next one, firmer, and soon deepens it with a heated fervor. His hand snakes around Dev's middle and presses on his lower back, drawing their hips together.

Oh, hello. Devero willingly matches Seb's energy, groaning loud and unselfconscious approval as their mouths come together the second time. He lets Seb lead the kiss, his mouth open and hot and receptive, and rolls his hips more-than-suggestively against Seb's as the other man draws him closer. He can feel himself already starting to flush under his fatigues, and slings one leg shameless up over Seb's hips to let him feel it too.

Dev's groan is as free as his laugh, and that only turns Sebastian on more. Remembering that Devero can't hear it anyway, he allows the release of a soft moan of his own as their mouths share heat and saliva, realizing belatedly that he can likely feel the vibration. Whatever. He's too desperate to care, every fibre of his body wanting to be closer, wanting more. He can't recall ever feeling quite like this. Moments of true desire in the Factory were few and fleeting, most of it dread and obligation. This is the opposite; illegal and delicious.

His hips grind hard into Dev's, his erection obvious. Hands (one oddly harder and firmer than the other) roam his big, warm body, and he's not sure if he's ever wanted anything more than to be pressed up against it, to be mandhandled by him, to crawl inside Dev's very bones. His kisses are heated and hungry, venturing deeper into Dev's mouth, nipping at his lip as though he's frustrated. And he is frustrated; he hasn't had sex in years, struggles to even masturbate because he's plagued with shame and bad memories around such acts. And perhaps those will be triggered here before long, but he feels safe enough with Dev that it's an acceptable risk, because he's sure the other man will be understanding. For now, they're far from his mind.

Grown up as he has in a culture that encourages normative sexual expression and experimentation, Devero's never been burdened with the shame and repression that plagues so many of these these outsider communities. His sexuality has always been open and generous; partners have always been easy to find. Any sexual frustration he's ever felt has been temporary, localized. So when Seb explores into his mouth with that heated, nipping aggression, Devero flirts his tongue encouragingly against him, inviting him deeper. When Seb's hands roam his body, he writhes under them, willing the other man to explore his physique.

And when Seb grinds his eagerness against Devero like that, there is nothing soft about his appreciative moan. He hooks his leg around both of Seb's and, without warning, rolls them, so that that smaller man is sprawled out on top of him. He skims both hands down to Seb's ass and grinds them together again, his own length now well swollen where it's trapped in his pants.

Dev's moaning is making him insane. In the past, many of his sexual partners were less than thrilled to be fucking him, and such sounds were either muted or faked if they happened at all. It gave him a complex, making him certain he was undesirable for his deficits; namely his lack of fertility.

Devero obviously wants him; there is nothing fake or muted here whatsoever. It's an elated, freeing feeling, the weight of his negative beliefs about himself just falling away. He's denied himself this for so long, but perhaps it was just that: him denying himself. Maybe it wasn't that no one wanted him, but that he wasn't willing to even put himself out there for fear of rejection.

Suddenly, he's on top of Devero, being manhandled just as he hoped for, and he moves to straddle his knees around the larger man's hips.

"Fuck," he mutters, completely breathless, his face hovering above Dev's, staring into his eyes as he grinds down on him. His hands feel up and across his chest appreciatively.

"What... What do you want?" The twofold fear of rejection and fear of doing anything unconsensual compels him to seek guidance from Devero. He plants his hands in the dirt to lift his chest up, giving Dev room to sign.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

and white men who kill god

open post