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Grave Matters: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxKawamura)

"Yet," Nathan agreed; somehow it was more worrying that Rotti hadn't tracked Graverobber down and finished the deed; obviously he knew who the scavenger was now, given that he'd sought out a patient who looked like him. However, he didn't know if Rotti was aware of the - extent - of his current relationship with Graverobber, if he knew it was beyond a bizarre little working alliance, where Graverobber merely acted as a vulture to the Repo Man's leftovers.

Was he aware that Nathan had allowed the tramp into his house on more than one occasion and more recently, into his bed? He knew Rotti was a twisted, sadistic voyeur - so had he used the cameras to his advantage, had he seen the time in the alleyway, when he'd been pressed up against the emergency exit with Graverobber's hands all over him?

Did Graverobber have a target painted on his back now?

Nathan almost flinched when he realized how concerned he was for the other man, and with a sinking heart he had to acknowledge that he had allowed himself to become close to another human being, and that he was going to live to regret it.

Deep inside, Repo cackled, because the monster had seen it coming when the human hadn't.
 
Graverobber shifted so he could hang a leg over on of the armrests, letting it dangle as he sat crookedly in the seat. The chair wasnâ??t made for comfort (obviously), but he managed to look relaxed; the fact that he was still a little boneless from orgasm helped.

â??Donâ??t tell me youâ??re actually worried, Doc,â? the dealer teased, letting his head loll, rainbow streaked cords swinging over the other side. The room was a little easier to manage with his coat on and that wonderful, warm feeling of a recent climax, but even as he lazily took in the details of the underground lab he could feel the chill set in.

He couldn't really remember the last time someone had been worried about him. Sure, Ray worried in a very general sort, the same way he worried about all his tenants and prospective patients, and in a very specific way in that he needed a Zydrate dealer. And Amber and numerous junkies like her probably had that same worry but they could easily find new suppliers (not like there was any sort of qualifications to being a grave robber outside of tools and not dying), though a few of the older ones might miss his constancy.

â??Iâ??ll keep the warning in mind, though,â? he said lowly, eyes half-lidded as he examined Nathan from head to foot, leveling off right about his middle. â??Weâ??ll worry about it later. Maybe we should get you upstairs. This place canâ??t be good on your aching bones.â?
 
Nathan did his best to disregard the smirk that was being directed at him, but found it was difficult, given that the only other visual focus in the room was the tools that he used, and he found that the last thing he wanted to think about at that moment was - death. He didn't want to continue to think about Helen's sobs, or the digusting warmth of Lazarus' organs, even through the PVC and leather of his gloves - and looking at the knives and bone saws, the clamps and the scalpels - it was bringing his mind back to GeneCo, and he didn't want to be there.

So he looked at Graverobber as impersonally as he could, but he could still taste the other man, and it wasn't unpleasant as he had assumed it would be, and the sight of the scavenger looking boneless in the chair, slumped in post-orgasmic bliss made it difficult to feel entirely distant.

Silent, he moved to the door and unbolted it again; it swung with a low creak, and he moved to push aside the fireplace once more, stepping back up into the dull sitting room. There was a moment of hesitation, then he asked a question that made him feel awkward and strangely domestic:

"Do you want a drink?"
 
Nathan was one of the most infuriating men heâ??d ever met, Graverobber thought body still pleasantly loose. Keep a man alone for seventeen years and he kept everything in his head. The dealer watched as he pulled open the door then the fireplace, the part of his mind that wasnâ??t currently humming with satisfaction noting the way Nathan applied pressure so the heavy-looking stone moved easily. Clever.

What Graverobber was waiting for, though, was the expulsion. It had to happen. Nathan had finished with him, would probably hose down his lab and wash out his mouth and ignore that perfectly good stiffy while sending the dealer on his way.

He hadnâ??t expected an invitation to stay.

â??Youâ??re supposed to ask me that before the sex, Nathan.â? The younger man unfolded himself, standing straight and stretching his back. â??Careful,â? he said, strolling over till he was much too close to the doctor, just so he could speak in his ear. â??I might take advantage of you.â?
 
Nathan froze for an instant when he felt Graverobber come close, and he felt the breath and the now familiar voice in his ear, and it sent the shiver through him that he had come to associate with the other man,

"Didn't you do that already?" Nathan asked mildly, straightening his suit even though it was still perfectly in order, and he crossed the room to a small cupboard, removing a hitherto untouched bottle of brandy. It wasn't the watered down, store-bought swill that was sold now, but rather it was the genuine, sweet, amber-hued alcohol - but it had been left in there for so long that it must have been the only thing in the house to have been given a chance to collect dust. Dust that Nathan regarded with irritation, and he dissappeared to the kitchen to actually clean the bottle before he would open it.

When he came back out, he handed a glass of the heavy, sweet, burning liquor to the other man; he wasn't sure what had influenced him to drink - he supposed it was because Graverobber was the first person he'd had to share it with for a very long time.
 
The scavenger drifted over to the, amused that Nathan Wallace even had alcohol in the house. After all, the man seemed to dislike teen magazines and chocolate and sugary yogurts: alcohol seemed like it would invite all sorts of vices and health problems. Especially the stuff Graverobber and his ilk drank. That swill was made of sterilizing fluid and food coloring; heâ??d seen his own dad use it to clean rusty tools.

He couldnâ??t imagine the doctor being stupid or desperate enough to drink that.

Graverobber chuckled when he saw that face of irritation, lips thin as he examined the glass, as if the dusty bottle had offended Nathan in some way. Considering where he had just had that tight-lipped mouth, the man currently lounging on his couch couldnâ??t understand why exactly he was viewing a little dust with that much animosity, but then, that was the older manâ??s charm, wasnâ??t it?

He shook himself, sitting up. â??Charmâ?? was not a word he was going to associate with the Repossession Agent.

When Nathan returned, Graverobber was still slightly stiff from the mental slip: a piece of gaudy detritus in his otherwise clean sitting room. For a moment, he regarded the other man with a sort of thoughtfulness, took the glass (making sure to brush his fingers against Nathanâ??s own) and smiled. â??Youâ??re playing the host rather well,â? he tease, but not unkindly. "Get enough practice, and you'll be hosting very proper dinner parties." The vulture took a sip of the spirit then, in surprise, swallowed loudly. "This doesn't taste like it'll dissolve my insides."
 
Nathan quirked an eyebrow at Graverobber, a small facial tick that clearly gave his opinion of dinner parties; social gatherings were clearly not on the doctor's list, and even if he had ever been to a party in his life, chances are he had just stood around awkwardly wishing he was somewhere else.

When he'd been younger, the only time he had attended social events was with Marni, who had yanked him around the room like the social butterfly she was, stronger than her little frame indicated. She would introduce him to people he didn't know and wouldn't remember, urge him to have another drink even when his head was swimming, and giggle when he stumbled over his own feet on the way in the door.

Nathan eyed the liquor for a moment, then took a careful drink of it,

"That's because it won't. It will, however, make you forget your own name if you're not careful," Nathan said, letting the brandy burn its way down his throat, a trail of fire into his chest. It wasn't the rubbing alcohol that they drank on the streets, but with little effort it had the same impact without the added urge to vomit violently or curl up into the foetal position.
 
Graverobber grinned crookedly. His dark lipstick left a very clear imprint on the otherwise spotless glass, just another part of Nathanâ??s bland, clean life he was infecting.

It made him quite proud. The clean-cut doctor had ingested both alcohol and cum in the same hour. Throw in a little Z and something greasy and Graverobber would have probably quadrupled the number of bad things the man had had in him in the last twenty years.

â??You sound like you know that from experience. Donâ??t tell me you have a sordid past filled with vice and substance abuse.â? The dealer, feeling that the whole situation was much too normal and much too quaint, rudely shifted so that he could rest his dirty boots on Nathanâ??s immaculately clean armrest, leaving a stain on one of the embroidered flowers, his shins resting on the manâ??s lap. â??Strong enough even let a sordid grave robber bugger you?â?
 
Nathan had neatly settled himself down on the couch, and as he drank small mouthfuls of the brandy and felt it move through his system, he found himself mapping out his own body; there was an ache in his shoulders and across his back from the repossessions he'd done, muscles complaining from lack of sleep, body telling him he had been abusing it lately, not eating properly, working too much. He had thought that at some point his body would adapt to the exertion, and while he was stronger and faster than most men half his age, he still felt it in his muscles, a throbbing ache that some days had him getting out of bed even when he was tired just so he could walk around. It reminded him of his age; he was forty years old, and he was doing a job that he should have left a long time ago - a job he never should have even started doing, he was a doctor, a scientist. At the core of him, he still was, but that was a lifetime ago.

His thought process was derailed as Graverobber's legs went across his lap, nearly spilling his drink, and he moved his eyes along the limbs, down to the boots that were filthy and smudging on the pristine chesterfield, and he eyed it disapprovingly but said nothing, knowing that it would only spur the scavenger on.

Instead, he lifted his glass to his mouth, and made a choking sound at Graverobber's next words, nearly coughing out the mouthful of brandy he'd just taken. He swallowed it down hard all at once, and he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the other man's words that were making his ears burn, but he looked at Graverobber sideways, stumped on what he should say - but there was a low warmth in his stomach now, and a bit of the stiffness had left the doctor's shoulders.
 
â??Careful, Doc. I know you had practice earlier, but you still might choke.â? Graverobber held up his glass to the light, inspecting the amber color. There was very little he could compare it to: alcohol on the streets tended to come in a variety of obnoxious, unnatural neon colors as if to distract the drinker from the awful taste and the way it burned from nose down to gut. This warm color was something subtler, warmer, handsome in its own quiet way.

Still packed quite a wallop when he swallowed down the whole glass. If he was a man given to metaphors, he might have voiced his thoughts concerning the good doctorâ??s similarities, but heâ??d hate to have Nathan think he was intelligent or thoughtful.

A large hand gripped the upholstered so he could lean over and set his empty glass on the floor with a soft â??clinkâ?? as ice settled. It was the oddest feeling to have that mix of fire and ice alcohol brought as it moved through oneâ??s body, very much unlike the electric kick of injected Z. Just as rough on the mind, though: for a moment he wanted to kiss the broken old man, tell him that it was all going to be fine.

Good thing he got over that urge quickly.

He used that same hand to pull himself closer, invading personal space as he was wont to do. â??Iâ??m not letting you take a cold shower this time, Nathan. That wouldnâ??t be fair.â?
 
And if Nathan had been one for metaphors, he would have found himself likewise comparing Graverobber to the moonshine sold along the city's edge - the ridiculous hues, the distinct smell, the fact it could be found in back alleys, and its tendency to make people feel vaguely ill.

He would have also giggled a little at the comparison.

If he was the sort to think like that.

He wasn't.

And he certainly wasn't feeling soft and fuzzy from the brandy he'd just ingested - and he realized he'd drained his glass, but wasn't sure precisely how he'd done it, because he'd thought he was taking his time with it. He set his glass onto a side table and sank back into the couch, revelling in the warmth that had spread through his body from the alcohol - he hadn't had a drink in a long time, given that his lifestyle had always pointed him in the direction of caution when it came to altered mental states. He had found himself paranoid of being too relaxed by it and thus giving Repo an opening to come out of his cage, and he had been worried at the prospect he might somehow end up using it as a crutch. He didn't have an addictive personality, but he was a man in perpetual mourning with the sort of job that wore a person down.

That, and he didn't want Shilo to ever see him drunk; it was undignified, innappropriate - a bad influence.

He felt the couch shift, and he turned his head and nearly came nose-to-nose with Graverobber; Nathan's automatic reaction was to lean away, and his eyebrows shot up as he looked at the other man, unclear on what he should say, but he slowly moved his hand up and pushed his glasses back up his nose.
 
Graverobber smirked. There it was again, that endearing shyness. â??I wonâ??t bite, Doc,â? he said gently, reaching over to tug Nathanâ??s glasses off. His face always looked more open without them, less angular and younger. The alcohol helped, of course, he could see how it slowed him down and how his shoulders relaxed. Why, the man almost had poor posture.

His fingers were white against the black, conservative frames as he folded them then tucked them away in one of the inner pockets of his coat. He liked this younger-looking, almost peaceful Nathan. Purely for contrastâ??s sake, he told himself as he ran the back of his free hand along the manâ??s chin noting just the slightest scratch of stubble, but he knew that was miserably incorrect; contrast wouldnâ??t make him feel a false sense of security.

Maybe it was the alcohol though Graverobber didnâ??t think it was that either.

So he arched an eyebrow, attempting to break this intimate scene. â??You just had your face in my crotch. Donâ??t get shy on me now.â?
 
There was something bizarrely intimate about it all as Graverobber leaned in towards him and pulled his glasses away; for a moment, Nathan's eyes almost crossed as his eyes adjusted to the change, and he found himself staring at the other man, frozen into stillness by the feeling of his hand running down his face. There was a moment of weakness and Nathan's eyes slid shut as he enjoyed the warmth of the skin against his jaw, and for an instant he felt a burst of warmth in his chest, and it was followed by a cold chill in his stomach as he realized he was feeling a surge of affection for the other man.

His eyes snapped open again, and he watched the other man, face pinned into a carefully blank expression as he tried desperately to work it out in his head, but the gentle buzz of the alcohol was making things soft around the edges; when had this happened? When he had first met the man he had been positive that the nature of the relationship was the sort shared between a predator and a scavenger - but at some point they had crossed eachother in a strange way. It became violent first, and when it didn't scare Graverobber away like it would have with any sane person, it had elevated until the Repo Man had nothing left to threaten with, and Nathan wouldn't allow his darkness to take a life simply for the sake of getting rid of an irritation.

But then what had happened? The hands, the mouths, the heat. Graverobber coming too close, insisting on entering his personal space, pressing their bodies together.

And that was when it struck Nathan for the first time that, ultimately, Repo had been the one to initiate the sexual aspect, even if he had also left Graverobber standing in the alleyway directly after. He could have hit Graverobber then, but he hadn't. He could have broken the man's bones to get him away and keep him away for the time it took to heal - but he hadn't.

Some part of him had wanted to do this to Graverobber from the beginning, but he hadn't even realized it until that moment, even if he'd never thought it would go this far.

His darkness giggled at him.

Suddenly, Nathan found himself wondering what else he was keeping from himself.

Before he could work out what he was doing, he had a fistful of Graverobber's hair in one hand, part of the man's shirt in his other, and he was pushing Graverobber back and their mouths were together, it was a mix of biting and kissing, somewhere between Repo and Nathan.
 
Unlike Nathan, Graverobberâ??s mind was blissfully clear. Yes, there was the problem of this sort of warmth he felt for the other man, something most men would call affection but Graverobber wasnâ??t most men.

He settled on pushing thoughts of that warmth away so he could enjoy it, though his sensible parts told him enjoying the deep, low heat of tenderness for another human being was a dangerous, dangerous thing. The dealer had more brains than that, after all: heat, had a way of flaring up and burning. People disappointed in ways that could easily turn fatal.

But none of that really mattered now. Heâ??d gone and stuck his nose into things that werenâ??t his business, dug his dirty fingers into wounds that were too old and deep, and he was trapped. For a moment, when they were both still and watching each other, the doctor straight-faced and the grimy thief anything but, he had the oddest feeling of being buried alive.

It wasnâ??t the alcohol. No, it was the heavy knowledge echoing in the back of his mind that heâ??d as good as signed his own death warrant with this whole affair. Sure, he could probably escape Rotti for a good long while, maybe even forever, but he wouldn't be able to avoid the eventual pitfalls warm feelings brought. Heâ??d end up doing something stupid to keep Nathan or the kid safe: heâ??d seen that multiple times, had found it the funniest thing in the world.

Had avoided it for nearly thirty years.

And here he was, sitting in an old, faded house with an old, faded man who somehow managed to stand out against the backdrop of cookie-cutter clichés that most people lived as (if one could call that living), and he actually liked the bastard. Even past all the kissing and sucking he could get on the streets, he liked him and actually considered him human where nearly everyone else was simply a character.

Nathan moved first with a startling quickness. He hadnâ??t expected kisses, not any this hungry: he had expected to be thrown out with perhaps a very firm handshake on the way to the door. He wondered momentarily if the doctor had figured out the same thing he had, but that thought was chased away by a very un-Nathan-like bite to his bottom lip. Graverobberâ??s fingers slid around to clutch the short hairs on the back of his head, pulling him down eagerly. â??Idiot,â? he breathed between them, unsure if he was talking to himself or Nathan as he pressed forward again to jam his tongue in the otherâ??s mouth. He could still taste himself there, underneath the sweet of the amber-colored alcohol and mintiness that was probably the good doctorâ??s toothpaste.
 
This wasn't about sex; Nathan wasn't even sure what it was about, but he was being driven by the heat in his chest and a need that he was having trouble defining as he crushed their mouths together. There was a small spike of pain as their teeth clashed clumsily together for a moment before they sorted out their position, and Nathan had settled himself with his body over Graverobber's, a small groan escaping him when the other man's tongue pushed into his mouth.

One of his hands slid under the scavenger's shirt, rough palm sliding up the man's torso, feeling the warm skin, fingers moving up and sliding through the chest hair - he noted there was a surprising amount of it, and then realized that despite all of their - activities - he'd never taken the man's shirt off. Everything had been done hastily, clothing kept on, everything had been rough and Nathan wasn't sure he disagreed with it, because the idea of being completely bare in front of Graverobber was unsettling; it would be too vulnerable.

Though he found himself unfairly considering stripping down the other man entirely at some point; he also questioned why he was consistently thinking of putting the other man in restraints, even right then as he had the man beneath him on the couch, he found himself thinking back to the last time Graverobber had been in this position, wrists secured by a power cord.

And it was around that time that he realized he was trying to keep Graverobber in the position of a patient at all times: defenseless. He didn't want to think anymore about the implications.

His fingers plucked at one of Graverobber's nipples, tugging at the tender skin.
 
The dealer sucked in a breath of air, Nathanâ??s abrasive palm rubbing against the sensitive skin of his stomach. It was almost ticklish; almost, but not quite, and the feeling instead bordered on something like pain, muscles quivering until his hands had passed by. He wasnâ??t used to being touched like this: sometimes, when he shacked up with a bird that offered better lodgings that his own sad apartment, she might touch him like this. Most of the time, it was desperate or thankful hands on his chest or undoing his belt. None of them were clever, deft fingers, not like the doctorâ??s.

He kind of liked it.

His own long fingers reached down for the lapels of the good doctorâ??s conservative jacket, pulling him down so he could turn his head to the pale neck. Irritably, he tugged the high collar down, exposing abused skin so he could further discolor it. Nathan was still in too much control, even in this grey area between the monster and the surgeon. Theyâ??d have to fix that, wouldnâ??t they?

â??Why donâ??t we go upstairs?â? Graverobber rumbled against his newest mark, pressing his lips against where heâ??d sucked heat and color into the fatherâ??s skin. Blue eyes flickered up past them to the pale lights of holos and he tried to think if there had been a portrait in the bedroom. Probably. â??Wouldnâ??t want the kid to get her education on gay sex this way.â?
 
While Repo was the sort to enjoy the rough, hasty heat of a brief and possibly violent tryst, Nathan was shamefully still a romantic at the very heart of him - taking his time, touching and mapping out the body of his lover was all part of the enjoyment for him, though he was having trouble dealing with the idea that he had just assigned the scavenger with the title of 'lover'. He tried to push that discomfort aside; he wasn't sure what else to call the man.

So while Nathan was the prominent personality, he was taking his time, enjoying the twitches and shudders that went through Graverobber when he touched him, pleased with the reactions. Given how long it had been, he almost felt as though he needed to experiment on the man, to take full advantage of the situation by exploring and testing him.

The mouth at his throat caused Nathan to let out a small, pleasant sigh, which was followed by a hiss of air as Graverobber worried at an already tender spot; it was a twinge of delicious pain, and his eyes bugged out for an instant because of what the other man had said. Graverobber was right - what was he doing, out on the couch like that - Shilo could come out at any moment and see them like this, and it wasn't a topic he had exactly got around to discussing with her.

He sat back then, eyebrows up, and he looked pensively in the direction of the staircase, as though considering his options; finally he gave a small nod, almost embarrassed by his own willingness. After another moment of hesitation, as though reluctant to remove himself from Graverobber, he slipped off of him, picked up the empty glasses and moved them to the kitchen - organization and cleanliness were priorities after all - and he began up the stairs.
 
Nathan tensed under his lips, obviously realizing that yes, his darling little daughter could come down at any moment and see her father with his tongue down another manâ??s throat. Heâ??d have to arrange that meeting one of these days; nothing screamed â??Evil Repo Manâ?? like a father stuttering as he tried to explain daddyâ??s new boyfriend.

Though the full-blown blush he imagined Nathan would have during that conversation might be hard to not taste and that would just lead to more embarrassment and probably pain on his part.

Instead, he watched the man think: that small nod was perhaps the most pathetic thing he had seen all day and, for just a second, it called up something like protectiveness (he knew the feeling: he was, for example, somewhat protective of his older junkies and whores because they were his). Nathan wanted some sort of warmth, and not the sort one got by being elbows deep in another personâ??s torso. Graverobber pushed that thought down to head upstairs.

He had work to do, after all. On the way up, he was already digging through his inner pockets, searching forâ?¦ ah, yes. And of course there were always belts. While Nathan was downstairs, he stuffed the raggedy blue scarf into a side pocket along with a few of those little pillow-like packets of lube. Condoms he had, too â?? always prepared and all, being like a fucking boyscout of dealers â?? but he didnâ??t think Nathan and he would need those. Not this afternoon. He paused, then pulled Nathanâ??s glasses out and left them on the mantel. Old houses like this all had fireplaces, harkening back to time before the heater, and he gave the staring portrait of the old manâ??s dead wife a lopsided grin before going back to work.

Graverobber stripped out of his coat, leaving it on the floor to rest his boots on, and padded barefoot to the bed.
 
With a few moments spent in the kitchen ensuring everything was in its proper place, Nathan moved quietly up the stairs in Graverobber's tracks and as he reached the landing, he found himself hesitating outside of the bedroom door for a long moment, suddenly nervous for reasons he couldn't identify; he had butterflies in his stomach.

He took a detour then, moving down the hallway to Shilo's room; he peered in and found her laying facedown on the bed, the chocolate bar wrapper near her feet, her wig askew and magazines spread out everywhere. One of her legs hung over the edge of the mattress, one of the striped knee-high socks down at ankle length, and she was snoring loudly. Nathan smiled at the same time as he disapproved - but she was a kid, wasn't she?

Unable to help himself, he stepped into the room and carefully piled all the magazines onto her dresser, tossed away the garbage, and put a blanket over her; she would be asleep for a while anyways.

He left the room again, closing the door behind him, and he padded back down the hallway, finally appearing in the bedroom, poking his head in first as though expecting something to be thrown at him before he moved in entirely. He cast a look in Graverobber's direction, expression difficult to read, and he removed his slippers, and as an afterthought, actually removed his jacket as well, leaving him standing barefoot, wearing an intricately detailed waistcoat, slacks, and a neatly pressed, high-collared dress shirt.

"You've successfully put my daughter into a sugar coma." Nathan said conversationally.
 
Graverobber was busy pushing away the heavy, dark comforter. Nathan had left the bed unmade that morning obviously called off by Rotti before the obsessively clean doctor could come back and change the sheets. There was still a smell of something that wasnâ??t pine cleaner, just the faintest whiff of something very physical and undignified. He turned back, stained lips curled, hair slipping down over his shoulder. â??I only supplied the poison, Nathan,â? he said sweetly, returning to turning down the rumpled bedclothes. â??She could have very well thrown it out.â?

Straightening, he reached down to rest long fingers on the still lit lamp, thick glass pleasantly warm in the air-controlled room. It wasnâ??t so late: they could probably open up the shades for a bit of afternoon sun, but that would run risk of omnipresent cams recording his and or Nathanâ??s naked bum. Not that he generally minded, but having the Largos see his naked bum at the Wallace residence wasnâ??t his idea of an enjoyable exhibitionist moment. â??Iâ??m disappointed, Nathan,â? he said, sharp eyes taking in the other man from disarrayed hair to bare feet. â??You didnâ??t even change the sheets.â?

The dealer held a hand out, beckoning to Nathan lazily. Heâ??d let the doctor stay in control to ease his nervousness. Well, until he trussed him up like some sort of captive, but ignoring that, heâ??d play nice. Fair, maybe not, but nice. â??Donâ??t tell me you changed your mind.â?
 
"She could have," Nathan agreed, "But she's seventeen - it's been a long time, but I seem to recall that being a time where a person is easily influenced. Especially since she seems to have developed a fondness for you, though I can't fathom why."

The last part was said with the barest hint of humour, even if his expression remained unmoved; he leaned up against the dresser, eyes on Graverobber, then falling to the bed that was in disarray - he hadn't exactly planned to have Graverobber in his bed again, nevermind in his house again that evening,

"I was somewhat short on time." he admitted, trying not to squirm at the sight of the mussed sheets, knowing that their - activities - were still on the material from earlier that day. In fact, when he thought about it, he could still smell sex in the room, though he was disturbed to find it wasn't an unpleasant smell to him; yes, those sheets would be boiled.

"Just after you left I was called in." he added, and he watched Graverobber put out a hand for him, and the action was so strangely sweet for the scavenger that he found himself moving carefully towards the other man like a gun-shy dog, vaguely suspicious until he remembered that, ultimately, it sort of came with the territory. It was difficult to say if there was actual trust between them, but there was - something.

He settled himself onto the bed, eyes searching the other man for a moment before he leaned in and nipped at his ear.
 
It was another mask Graverobber was pleased to have. Who could say when he was being kind and not simply playing the serpent? After all, whores and junkies liked a kinder dealer and certainly those who were new to the whole scene wanted a friendly figure to hold there hand those first few times till they were hooked. Unlike Nathan, he had a whole range of theatrically kind motions that, when he coupled them with a leer like he was now, could be down right predatory. Nathan, for all the world had fucked him over, was still dangerously sweet and obvious about it.

And for some reason, Graverobber couldnâ??t bring himself to want to take advantage of that. He wanted, oddly, to simply enjoy it, to make Nathan enjoy theirâ?¦ time together so he didnâ??t approach every good thing the dealer offered like a kicked animal. He didnâ??t even want to plant a catch, some razor in the apple he was offering.

He was getting soft in his old age.

â??â??S good for you to have some mess,â? he sighed, dexterous fingers plucking at the edge of the doctorâ??s tailored shirt. The material was soft under his fingers, almost fine and very unlike his rough, lose shirt. Nathanâ??s skin, when he slipped a hand under the shirt to rest on his side, was warm in comparison to the cool fabric. â??Itâ??s unnatural and blasphemous for you to be so clean, Doc,â? he added, brushing his lips against the other manâ??s Adamâ??s apple. A bit of gentle necking and Nathan would be easy to tie down, or, rather, he hoped he would be: the man was scrappy.
 
"I've got you in the house," Nathan replied promptly, and his stomach twitched when Graverobber's fingers grazed over the skin; the sensation was strange at first, and he realized that it was almost - tickling - but the feeling subsided, "That's mess enough."

A small sigh escaped him despite himself when he felt Graverobber's mouth moved down to his neck; the scavenger was being uncharacteristically gentle, and while Repo quietly seethed at the affection being displayed - for his darker side, this wasn't appropriate. This was undignified, he was supposed to have the other man held down, preferrably squirming or in pain, anything but these - pleasantries. Repo was so annoyed by all of it that a sneer nearly surfaced on the good doctor's face, but he quickly shoved his darkness back into place; Repo had been getting ansty lately, even though he had been getting his weekly bloodlettings - it made Nathan wonder if there was something he wasn't seeing. There was usually a reason, after all, when Repo behaved strangely, and it left Nathan questioning precisely what it was that his instincts were sensing but not telling him.

"You only say that because you're filthy most of the time," Nathan added, his voice low as he moved a hand under Graverobber's shirt, fingers moving up the man's back, "If I hadn't done it already I might suggest hosing you down."
 
â??Hardly â??filthy,â?? Nathan.â? Graverobber kept up the soft assault on the other manâ??s neck, careful to keep things purely kind and not at all painful like he wanted them to be. Pain would happen when he wrestled the doctor down.

But it was for his own good, honest. That the dealer got the sick joy of finding the uptight and very anal man, well, that was just a bonus.

â??Certainly not obsessively clean, thatâ??s true,â? he admitted, a wide hand resting on Nathanâ??s side as he curled a finger into the collar, hooking down so he could taste more skin. He felt less betrayed by his own testicles now that he had a somewhat insidious plan, so he could spoil the older man with tenderness. â??If it makes you happy.â? Graverobber sucked gently on the skin right beneath Nathanâ??s chin, butting his nose against the bone and skin to push his head back gently. â??Iâ??ll bathe later. Maybe you can join me.â? He chuckled, using his hand to press Nathan back to the bed gently.
 
"Semantics," Nathan said, leaning his head back at Graverobber's insistence, eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt the man mouthing his throat, motions that sent waves of pleasure through him; it was a different kind of pleasant - this was a slow and almost lazy kind of sensation that was moving down his spine, whereas everything else they had done before this had been sharp spikes of it. This strange and careful touching was unusual, but it had caused the doctor's shoulders to slouch a little, had relaxed him,

"Your shirt is still stained with Zydrate from weeks ago." Nathan added, as though to make the point that 'filthy' wasn't entirely inaccurate, and he had to resist mentioning that he was going to either wash it, or burn it off of Graverobber, because he wasn't certain he could stand seeing that shirt, with that stain another time without cracking like an egg. When he wasn't in the throes of violent physicality with Graverobber, he found himself wanting to follow the man around with a vaccuum and spray bottle of bleach, just to keep everything else clean.

The image of Graverobber submerged in a bathtub nearly made Nathan laugh, but the thought was derailed as he finally realized he was now on his back; he had been so distracted by what the other man was doing that he had barely noticed. Determined to make up for it, both his hands ended up under Graverobber's shirt, and he ran his blunt nails over the man's skin, intent on creating as much distraction for the scavenger.
 
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