[open] channeling angels in a new age, now.

[priorly]

Who: Prior Walter (priorly) & you??
What: Catch all logs for October!
When: October!
Where: various
Warning(s): language, likely mention of terminal illness (AIDS). Adult themes?
Notes: Please PM me if you'd like a starter, or feel free to wildcard me anytime.

Comments

[priorly]

It's a nervous habit, isn't it? And my nerves are of steel, as well you know.

[It's an oddly intimate feeling. Or not oddly, given the sensitive nature of any place the tracery of veinwork lays so shallowly under the skin. Prior's teeth graze his lip.

If Byerly looks closely enough he'll catch the set of little scars. IV needles leaving traces in their wake, some shallow silver lines, some deeper.]

They grow so slowly. I bite them as a mode of discipline, really.

[vorrutyer]

[ And By runs his thumbs over those old scars rather curiously. His world has moved far beyond needle technology, so - although he's a casual drug user himself, and companion to many habitual drug users - the appearance of the IV scars is curious and strange. ]

We should go for manicures, don't you think? Perhaps if they're shaped properly, you'll hesitate to destroy their beauty.

[ By's own nails are perfectly shaped - elegant ovals, buffed and shined. As immaculate as Narcissus' own. ]

[priorly]

I get them tipped from time to time, when I want something to drag down someone's back. More of a challenge, but they still don't last long with me. But we should. I never say no to pampering. I've heard there's even a spa, somewhere, though I suspect the prospect is more rockpool than somewhere clinically white, full of charming Swedish women and fluffy towels.

[He watches the progress of Bylerly's explorations, watches them slow and focus, until he can't help clenching his hands.]

Not what they look like. Medically sanctioned, I assure you.

[vorrutyer]

[ By glances up, not tracking this last comment. ]

Hm?

[priorly]

[A nod to his arms.]

Track marks. I don't shoot up.

[vorrutyer]

[ A blink, then - ]

Ah. Drugs?

[priorly]

Mm. [He smiles, the tight one that doesn't reach any other part of his expression.] Pretty pills for special occasions, fine, but I've always been so careful about needles.

[vorrutyer]

Well, that's a pity. The best drugs come through hyposprays.

[priorly]

Translate that into barbarian for me?

[vorrutyer]

[ He mimes pressing something to his arm and pulling a trigger. ]

Into the bloodstream.

[priorly]

An injection, then. Needles, as I said. No, no, I stay away from that unless administered by rubber clad hands in clean clinics - as it often is.

[vorrutyer]

Hm.

[ His hands wander up a bit further. ]

So you've been good.

[priorly]

I'd been safe, I thought.

[Just a little shiver. His voice a hair lower, warning.]

That's not safe.

[Though, there's no move to stop it.]

[vorrutyer]

No? What's the danger?

[priorly]

[Liking it? Carefully, Prior reverses their positions, turning his hand over to take and turn Byerly's, ghosting fingertips over his palm.]

It's mostly arbitrary, the places we consider intimate. Besides the obvious, I mean. The real prudes cover themselves from ankle to wrist to throat - and they know their stuff. Anywhere a little less exposed. The places where the blood's closest to the surface of the skin, where we're vulnerable - there's an intimacy to that. Maybe not neat little bundles of nerve endings but-

[He curls his fingers, drags blunt nails lightly from wrist to inner elbow. There are enough.]

[vorrutyer]

[ He smiles ambiguously at that, hardly reacting, and says: ]

So intimacy is dangerous.

[priorly]

[He tips his chin up, just a little.]

I'm living proof.

[vorrutyer]

[ A slight lift of his eyebrow invites Prior to go on. ]

[priorly]

Oh let me count the ways. Is being fucked, fucked up, fucked off upon and once again fucked enough to be getting on with?

[a tic twitches at the corner of his mouth. There's something so angry buried so deep, even now there's only a hint of it. Heartbreak. Because if he let it out he'd go crazy. He would. If he's not already, that would be the straw and it's.

The wrong place, for this. But isn't it the worst, to warn someone off something you so want.]

None of which is cause for your concern. I'm merely... advising. Touch has been a rarity for me, I may feel more than is meant.

[vorrutyer]

[ And so he reaches out again, touching Prior's wrists. ]

Then let me work to desensitize you. Let's make it less of a rarity, hm?

[priorly]

[Not before one hand sweeps down to indicate their proximity.]

This is already... [Something he's grateful for.] No need to make it a science project. [But he gives his hands over, locking the fingers of one with Byerly's.]

[vorrutyer]

I wouldn't even know where to start with that. Science was never something I attended to.

[ He tightens his fingers, gripping Prior's hand closer. He leans in, brushes his nose lightly against the side of Prior's neck. ]

[priorly]

Or anything born of pity-

[His free hand catches tight in the short clipped hair at the nape of Byerly's neck. Not quite a restraint: close.]

[vorrutyer]

The art of pity was never something I attended to, either. Vorrutyers don't go in for that.

[ A light kiss. ]

[priorly]

Now that I know isn't true.

[No. nope. He can't, not - not yet not like this not

He just can't. Not to desensitize. No. Prior shifts his whole body back, and presses forward again with his hands to Byerly's chest, laying him back where he was, laying against him. What's felt natural has been fine but this... feels like service.]

What I like best about myself: I don't know. That's the truth. Everything I think of, I realise I'm thinking of something I was, and who I am now is... still in flux. I'm sorry it's a poor answer. I keep going - I like that.