TLV PSL ASAP (for wetware)

[oedipusrat]

[several months after this initial interaction]

Rachette doesn't kick in the door. She's not a barbarian. But the door is definitely opened in a manner that is heavier and harder than strictly necessary. Being The Warden was pain enough; being a warden is...irritating.

"He talks too much."

That's a possibly very petty thing to complain to the mage (who has explained to her that he is not a mage, but she remains not entirely convinced of this) about his...companion? Compatriot? Person from his same world. But talking to her inmate, a man who seems to prefer the name Silva to any of the other potential names he could be going by, is as frustrating as talking to Sten sometimes. Roundabout. Never to the point. Why does nobody ever just say what they mean?

The dwarf huffs and blows a few strands of silver hair from her face. "He uses too many words in strange ways. Would it kill him to just talk like a normal person instead of blathering on? Before I kill him."

She won't. That's not what she's here for, and he hasn't given enough reason to make her want to. But by the Stone and all of the Ancestors, he makes her job so difficult. Fighting a mob of darkspawn sometimes seems preferable.

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[oedipusrat]

Where would you even go?

Maybe that's a better question. He they he could take this whole barge, maybe, but in the end, that's all the space there is. Confined. Yet becoming.

Both hands now, broad over Q's incandescant back, feeling the energy thrumming through. Laughs. Isn't sure if the sound is just in their head or if he's done it physically. But he is sure that he kisses Q, hot and hard and thrilled at the idea of potential mayhem, the freedom of being. Enamored with the danger. Because this is danger, glowing bright as day.

Why would you try to get away from me?

[wetware]

Q tastes of effervescence and he leans into the embrace. Yes, this is what he had been hunting. He is tired, so tired, of being the only one in this body, in the systems of his room, singing through the wires in the hallways.

To have the joy of running, pushing as far and fast as I can go. To have the pleasure of being caught.

He nips at Silva's mouth, then turns to bite at his jawline, bussing against the metal of his face. Let us and we and you have our victory. Pyrrhic to the end. Burning bright and swift.

[oedipusrat]

Q makes it sound so simple, easy, good. Like that's what he wants, too. But--is it? Is that what he wants...? Or is that them blending together, with Q trying to push thoughts in, push himself inside?

Silva knows his mind is dangerous, minefields and pitfalls, acid baths and electric fences. A petty part of him wants to open up, let them be one. Show Q all he wants and let him consume the fallout and then only one rat will remain.

No. Stay here. Q isn't here, one of them has to be. Victory. Sweet victory. Eluding him. Stay here.

Oh. He supposes he might as well say it. Slipped out a bit there, but the intent hasn't changed. Both of them, stay right here.

I/We have burned too many times to leap so readily into flame again.

[wetware]

Q crackles in annoyance. He would much rather just ditch these odd peripherals and go into the wires, to sing, to dance, and to burn bright. Still, he won't go alone.

Stay. We'll stay.

With a hum that sounds like a computer fan, Q seems to be content. For now. He does give the nasty cube a look and a kick, just for good measure.

[oedipusrat]

He thinks of burning bright, of explosions, of a great old mansion bursting into a star and the stars outside rushing into infinity.

Thinks of cyanide, and resurrection.

Keeps Q close, so very close, kisses his neck and strokes his back. "I will burn you." It's said deliberately, with air in his lungs and vibration in his throat and warm against Q's skin. "If you are not careful."

[wetware]

I know, I know, and it would be ... Q sighs, content and held close. He hides his face against the side of Silva's neck, holding him close and resting one hand on his hip, thumb stroking over the edge of his trousers.

"It would've been something spectacular."

He is slowly coming back to himself, settling into his body, but not willing to release his anchor. Wisely, he does not say anything about how careful he is or isn't. "Thank you. W-... I'm still a little off-kilter, I think."

[oedipusrat]

"Shh, you are coming back to yourself. Stepping down." From a ledge. He knows better than most that madness is a form of energy that can't be destroyed, only changed.

Doesn't berate him for using past tense. He could burn Q up into a fireball, inside out, and even when this, too, has passed? There are all kinds of ways to burn. He's capable of it. He always will be. Too much kerosene in his gut, gunpowder in his arteries, bones like sticks of dynamite and muscles blocks of C4. Some days it feels less of a matter of if Q will get burnt, but when.

He doesn't mind floating in this between for a while yet, this connectivity. Only when it goes too deep and they fold in on themselves, recursive, errors and chaos and destruction, does he know it's too far. But this is nice. Pleasant in ways familiar and foreign all at once.

"Work is done." Nipping, moving up, catching an earlobe, pressing a kiss against hair. "Time to play."

[wetware]

A quiet noise of assent and then one a little louder, as he gives Silva access to his neck. The circuits start to dim, to fade to a darker blue that could be mistaken for veins, no longer burning bright with internal fire.

Long before he was Q, he'd know that there would be no easy end for him. He'd been warned many times about his habit of setting things alight. That it would catch him too, and he heeded the advice. Partly. Built a better system to contain and control the fire, but couldn't bear to put it out.

"Go on. I'm listening."

[oedipusrat]

"Mm, I can help you be more...mindful of your peripheral." Silva's hands slide down until he's got a firm grasp of Q's ass. "More here, in the moment, and not shooting off everywhere and anywhere."

Well. Not yet, anyway.

[wetware]

As he's grabbed, Q rather instinctively pushes himself closer, his own legs bracketing one of Silva's. This is a terrible idea, but it might actually stop him from fizzling out into the ether and losing his connection with his p...with his body.

"Your altruism does you credit." Har har. These two are just a laugh a minute. "Not in a hallway. My days hormone-fueled exhibitionism are behind me."

[oedipusrat]

"That's a shame." Don't mind if he just presses his thigh in. "You'll have to tell me all about it. I think I caught a taste of one of those days before."

To be fair, that in general is probably something they should talk about, the blended senses. Wonders if Q got anything flowing back into him or if he...wasn't aware of himself enough to notice.

He crushes Q's mouth with his own before drawing himself away, disentangling but keeping at least one hand on him. Grinning like the cat who's just about to eat the canary. "Be sure not to inadvertently broadcast yourself to everyone remotely. If you want to give a show, the least that you can do is make people pay for it."

[wetware]

Look, is it his fault that Silva has delicious thighs? Thighs that would be just perfect to rock against. Q whines into his mouth and, right, staying close and moving somewhere that's a little more private. "I'm trying not to share, nor to have this recorded by the wonderful, thorough security on this ship."

"I think you might've? I was thinking how it all felt a bit like being on molly, and ..." It must've just slipped through. "Don't let go? Being tethered here to you, it's helping. I can still hear a bit too much, but this is good."

[oedipusrat]

"Was there glitter involved?" Hmm...that might make more sense. "Water? What about the--uniform, I believe?" Dry heat and gasoline but those could have been from himself, easily.

...These are also questions that could be asked another time. He wraps an arm around Q's shoulder, close, side by side to navigate the corridors. "I'll do my best to make sure you hear only yourself screaming out my name, yes?"

[wetware]

"There was, a lot of it." He couldn't get glitter out of his hair for days and days. "A friend, she convinced me to go, and it was all scented like the fakest mango you've ever seen."

Q stays close, leaning into Silva as they walk, as if they're both drunk and need the support. Occasionally, he has to stop, breathe slow and steady, and pulls Silva close. Skin to skin contact - enough so that the buzz grounds him in the physical sensation. "Kabul. You've read my files, I'm sure. I was a Sapper."

The pragmatic thing to do would be to manage Silva's expectations by telling him that he's not about to scream anyone's name. And yet, he can't stop touching him, thinking about they could and should fit together.

[oedipusrat]

Good thing Q's shirt is still open in the back, where Silva can just brush his hand over skin, but he absolutely will not discourage any other contact. "Fleeting sensations. All blending together. You were bleeding into me."

Fascinating and terrifying at the same time. If they get like that again, if he thinks of something hard enough, it will flow back into Q? Dangerous. Intriguing. There's so much he could share.

"I wonder how much he knows about your past. The speckles."

[wetware]

"It wasn't intentional, and you were just so ...you're beautiful." No qualifier there, not 'beautiful like that' which feels cheap to say. Just that Silva was a sight to behold and Q wanted to do more than just look.

It's soothing to have a hand on his back. At first, when he developed the ports, he'd been wary of having anyone know about them, let alone touch them. As grafted metal, he didn't think that they'd have any sensation, but the more he adapts this body, the line between organic and machine blends further.

"Truly? He thinks I'm young enough to have spots, probably that I go to bed with a cuppa Ovaltine wearing footie pajamas." Q laughs and brushes it off. "I don't think he took me seriously until I cracked the foundations on one of the offsite testing grounds."

[oedipusrat]

"You say such things, and yet, you don't seem to believe me when I say the same of you. Even without taking a peek inside." His beautiful blue angel. "Honestly, I am shocked I didn't scare you away."

But Q needs adrenaline. Craves that danger. He's not sure, truly, if there's anything inside him that would scare Q. Draw him in deeper into a madness there could be no escape from, yes, but he'd do it willingly instead of turn away.

"Less shocked is hearing of impressive feats of explosives."

[wetware]

"For a few years, I watched everything the Double0s did. I saw it, I heard it, I oversaw the research on their targets. I saw and heard what those men and women did." He's trying to choose his words carefully here, because this is skating close to dangerous territory. "Many of them were irredeemable. They are not here. They would not talk me down from whatever I was about to do."

There are moral boundaries that Q will not cross for the sake of a rush, nor for love, for country, or for anyone. They are few and far between, but very firm.

"It's a very concrete example that I am competent."

[oedipusrat]

"I would have let you." In another time, under different circumstances, he absolutely would have let Q fire off and burn himself out in a bright flame of knowledge and data and self-destruction, not talked him down. Just for fun. Just to see what happens.

Things are different now.

[wetware]

Things are different, indeed. It's enough to make him smile. Not a big, bright open expression, but something smaller and more personal. As they walk back to Q's quarters, he's silent for a time as he considers what has happened and what might yet happen.

If Silva can be redeemed, then perhaps Malfoy can as well. It's worth it. Everything leading up to this point has been worth it.

"Will you stay with me? I don't think I'll scatter off in a thousand directions, but I ..." Ugh, words. Words are the worst. "I want your company."

[oedipusrat]

"Oh? And did you think I was going somewhere else? To leave you at the hands of yourself?" Whatever those hands might do, they won't be nearly as much fun or as practical or as grounding as what Silva's hands could do. He tuts.

"No, no, I think not. I'm going to eat you up."

[wetware]

"Will you now?" Q's small smile widens just enough to show off the edge of a sharp eye-tooth. He is only a little feral, honest. "When I'd pictured it -- and before you get too smug, I have eyes, Silva -- I had thought I'd be on my knees. I don't mind, of course, but I would like to extract a promise from you that I'll have an opportunity to blow you."

Subtlety is for other people.

[oedipusrat]

"We can certainly arrange for this scenario to play out, yes!" His laugh bounces off the walls. "If this will keep you in you, we can do nearly anything you wish."

Nearly, of course, leaves room to say no to other things. Who knows where Q might go, what he might suggest, when he isn't entirely in his mind.

He snakes his hand up Q's neck, into his hair, and grabs. Pulls Q up short by his dark locks, bends him back. "Maybe you pictured this, too?"

From a different angle, of course, but details.

[wetware]

Q lets himself be pulled into a bowed shape, his back arched and the rest of his body pressing up against Silva. "That is physically grounding."

The jokes never stop coming, do they? It's a laugh a minute with these two.

"I think, fuck, I think I need to be behind a locked door and very soon. I want to know what else you might've thought about. Just so we can plan ahead."

[oedipusrat]

"Your room is much more suited." Better a warden room than an inmate one, certainly, even if it's got all the bits and bobs and doodads that only make Q's declining state move further downward. Outward.

Yes yes, come alone then. Before someone gets fit to bursting out in public. "I'm sure we can demonstrate all sorts of fantasies on each other. You've got me very curious about your mind, you know."