IC INBOX for The Last Voyages

[magician_king]

You know what to do.

Comments

[ninefox]

Jedao twists, takes Quentin's face in both hands, kisses him in a way that somehow manages to be both hard and sweet, intimate and insistent, a rough-edged innocent rock candy kind of kiss. Thank you, he means, desperate and hopeful together, still tangled in himself but no longer thrashing.

He pulls away reluctantly, thumbs still brushing Quentin's cheeks.

"I don't want to miss my shift again. We're always short and Alec already covered for me during...everything. After lunch?"

It gives them both a little bit of time, too, without making Jedao wait long.

[magician_king]

"When you come back to my room, you come in, and you lock the door behind you. If you don't say a word between the time the door closes and you throw the lock, the next thing that happens will be that I overpower you and hurt you with my magic."

Quietly, turning his head to rest against his shoulder.

"Text me information you think I need if stuff comes up before then. Tell Fives you won't be available tonight."

[ninefox]

"Okay," Jedao agrees, stroking a hand through Quentin's hair. "Do you want me not to talk if it's not to use a safeword? Generally, I mean."

[magician_king]

"I'm going to gag you right away the first time. So let's feel it out in the future later."

For right now, he already knows he'll need the quiet to work.

[ninefox]

"Okay." He squeezes Quentin's wrist.

"I told Fives a long time ago - it's easier for me to say yes than to say no. Of - the category of true things, I mean, not saying yes because it's easy. If I mean no but can't say it, I'm all deflections and distractions and avoidance. If you ask if I want something and I say yes straight out, it's true. If there's a time when you need to know that...I'll be able to say it. Or even just nod for you."

[magician_king]

"Here's how I see it."

He says, looking up at him;

"If I harm you badly, it means we're taking longer before we do it again. And yeah, you could probably fake it- but only probably. Wouldn't it be better to work together to try to make sure that you are genuinely safe? Don't think of it as shameful. Just help me find my way with you. The way you would tell me if I were about to overbalance and fall off the edge of the bed."

[ninefox]

He's quiet for - a little too long. It would be easy to agree, to reassure. Because of course that makes perfect sense. But really helping Quentin find his way means not letting the easy misconceptions stand.

"I don't think it's shameful. Or, well, maybe a little, but not in a way that matters. I think it's dangerous. It's safer in the long run to endure an accident than to expose a weakness, hand over a weapon that can be used repeatedly, with intent." One careful breath. Two.

"Think is overstating the case. It's something I know in my back teeth, in the pit of my stomach. I trust you as much as I trust anyone in all the worlds, Quentin. I don't think you'd use my no against me. I do want to help you. And unless something goes really catastrophically awry, I'll be able to remember that. But you asked me to be careful. And I thought it might be. Reassuring. To be better briefed what you can rely on, even then."

[magician_king]

"You're so used to protecting your weak spots that it's compulsive. Not something you can necessarily control. Something you've been able to overcome a little with me, but it's not realistic if we stumble on a trigger that you won't reflexively continue to disguise it. Probably even likely, because you will be upset."

Answering, to try to make sure he's tracking.

[ninefox]

"Yes. Mostly yes." He flexes his hand, wishes for - no.

"Compulsion is - a strong word that is sometimes accurate. I can overcome it, because it's you, if I'm - incentivized. Which I am. And if I'm able to think past my first instincts, which is how we're having this conversation. And some things are much harder to admit than others. But I'm asking you to put me in a state where I'm not primarily thinking rationally. Or at all. So - the odds of reverting to instinct increase."

[magician_king]

"It's something you're working on- actually very successfully, when you think about it. But the point of this is that you have a few minutes where you don't have to try so hard."

Reaching up, finally, and carding his hair back.

"Eat a good meal, drink a lot of water. Tell me if you're still hungover when the time rolls around, I want your brain and body absent outside stuff."

[ninefox]

He huffs out a breath, and his smile is a little tender, a little raw. He didn't realize until he heard it how much he wanted to hear it. He's worked so hard, and it's - gratifying, for someone to notice.

"I should be clear by then. But I will," he promises. He gives Quentin a quick peck on the mouth before eeling off the bed. "You too! You can start by finishing your breakfast!"

[magician_king]

"Okay, but you take the egg."

He says, because he doesn't want that. He can probably put away the rest.

"I've got a lot of reading to do."

[ninefox]

Jedao concedes to this condition, swiping it on his way to the door.

[magician_king]

Quentin reads Jay Wiseman until he comes home. He repurposes a couple of household items. He checks;

electricity ok?

[ninefox]

yes

He thinks about piling on conditions, or specs for the insulating ceramic in his reconstructed ribs, but ultimately decides not to. Quentin doesn't need to be micromanaged; Jedao doesn't have to manage this.

[magician_king]

He goes back to reading, and then to taking apart a battery clock radio, humming to himself while he strips insulation off wires.

Things he wouldn't have thought he'd been doing, seven months ago.

[ninefox]

Jedao still isn't doing well, especially after the difficulty of talking with Fives. There's almost nothing Jedao can or can't do that doesn't feel like he's making it worse. But there's an alchemy of anticipation: just knowing something is coming and not knowing what exactly pricks deep old battle instincts, forces a little of the emotional miasma to make room for the new priority, a glimmer of what real war used to give him. He flies through his lunch shift, pouring himself into the tasks of his hands to keep from wondering and worrying and wondering.

He bolts down a solid meal at the beginning of the shift, plain fare that will carry him a long time, so that it's well settled by the time he gets off. He manages to dawdle all of five minutes. He leaves all of his weapons in his own room, feeling unbearably exposed for it in a way he never does for mere nakedness. He feels like he can suddenly feel every inch of his skin. He debates removing, but ultimately keeps, the Martian military-issue emergency chemical light that Holden gave him, currently unactivated, a slim and subtle bracelet tucked just under his uniform sleeve cuff.

He does knock, once and briskly, it feels polite to give Quentin that momentary alert before the action, but steps in after two seconds whether he hears a response or not. He keeps his breathing even, and thinks wildly that's another reason he shouldn't have picked pistol grip for the hand sign - he's doing it reflexively now. He really needs to work on that tell. But not today.

He forces himself not to look for Quentin, to stare and scour him for clues. He'll find out soon. Jedao turns his back on him, closes the door, and throws the lock.

[magician_king]

Quentin has spent the entire afternoon upping his own strength and speed and perception of the passage of time. Even the air in the room is a little richer. He crosses the space between them in a single leap, grabs him by the shoulder with one hand, the hair at the nape of his neck with the other, and drags him back and away from the exit like he's a ragdoll.

Quentin minds his neck, but definitely throws him down onto the bed, all without a word.

[ninefox]

Jedao is - fast, not as fast as Quentin but nearly as fast as a human can be, automatically moving backward into the pull to get his feet under him, trying to turn enough to shove his shoulder against Quentin's sternum, throwing up an arm to loop through Quentin's and break his wrist - but Quentin is too strong for any of those reflexive defenses to matter, and Jedao lands on the bed seconds later just the same.

Quentin told him it would be like this. Jedao would have laid down for him for the asking, but this is - maybe better. Or maybe it's just want Quentin needs. Jedao watches him with dark eyes, keeps still instead of surging up to fight again, now that his initial automatic resistance is over, and chooses not to worry about it.

[magician_king]

He helps settle him on his back on the bed, reaches to stroke his face, once, with the palm of one hand, then to press, four points, his forearms, his calves, adhering them down to the mattress with impossible force. He could pull hard enough that the bed should break, but he'll remain right where he is in space.

Quentin's eyes are black, where the iris should be, to the whites, everything dark and inky and all the more startling because he has white eyelashes. He spins his fingertips in the air, hands forming complex vortices.

"Show me the hand gesture." He says, and his voice is odd too, vibrates a little, comes from somewhere off and deeper. "You can make it from this angle? Your arm isn't too tight."

[ninefox]

He should have told Quentin to wear colors, he thinks distantly. He is so beautiful, but the monochrome is - evocative. He wonders if he should have asked for this. But Quentin turned him away when he was drunk, and Quentin asked for aftercare later, and Jedao just has to trust that he knows what he can handle, and what he needs.

He wiggles a little, back and shoulders finding their minute range against the fulcrum points in his forearms. He makes the grip. He nods.

[magician_king]

"I'm going to work with your chest. That means taking your uniform jacket off. I'm also going to take off your boots. Then I'm going to gag you, and you won't be able to offer me any specifics."

Stroking Jedao's hair back, quick and soft.

"Nod you understand."

[ninefox]

He tilts his head into Quentin's hand during the brief moment of possibility. Then he meets Quentin's eyes and nods. He's not smiling, but he's not afraid, either. Nervousness and hope are both - held away from him, a little bit, in abeyance. Now is not the time for expectations. Now he will take what he is given.

[magician_king]

"Okay."

He agrees, and draws in a deep breath, then reaches for the gives on his uniform, using the system Jedao taught him, how to open it up.

"You're being very sweet."

[ninefox]

That does make Jedao smile, a little, soft and fond. Why shouldn't he be, he thinks, wanting to say thank you for taking care of me.

He hasn't been gagged yet. But Quentin said he might need the quiet. Jedao ducks his head forward, enough to press a kiss to Quentin's fingers. There's nothing especially seductive or even sensual about it, saving perhaps Jedao's standing feelings about hands. But it's more sweetness, dry and light, a token of the things he isn't saying.