#carminekings

[tragedyrich]

@carminekings: ❛  you make me nauseous.  ❜ ( joe & nate — some form of dirty talk, sorry. . . they're rutting against each other and upset about it. )

that was high praise, from someone of joe's ilk. he didn't seem to have very high standards for company, so it begs the question -- what was it specifically about nate that made his stomach turn? he could take a stab in the dark, make a few educated guesses, but they both know. nate knew better than anyone else what it was like to be so overtaken with desire for something you couldn't let yourself have under any circumstances that it filled you with disgust. "yeah, i gathered that," he snips, letting out a harsh sounding laugh as he rolls his hips forward punishingly, waits for an answering throb against the hard line of his stomach. joe could talk a big game all fucking day, but at least his body was honest when his mouth was recklessly antagonistic. nate doesn't mind much, it makes the inevitable surrender all the more sweet. he knew joe wasn't an honest guy just by looking at him, from the type of clothes he wore to the people he surrounded himself with, but he was also filled with a certain amount of delusion that impressed even nate. he's dealt with a lot of people that made his blood run cold in his day, have met him with a dead fish-eyed stare when he directed a hard hitting question their way, the least of which including his own father. but joe reacted to him with such strong resistance that it was almost enough to make him falter in his pursuit. or it would be, if he wasn't so familiar with this strong taste of denial. the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

"my question is, do you even believe yourself?" it's not a question that nate expects joe to respond to without violence, so he spares him the fate of having to answer by sealing his mouth over his and running his tongue over the split in joe's lip nate himself had put there, as if trying to soothe the ache. joe is all bruised flesh and bloodied knuckles before nate even has a chance to do his worst, so he knows any kindness nate dares to offer him will be treated like cruelty he wants to flinch away from. "don't worry, feeling's mutual. i think you're a fucking freak too," nate tells him as he pulls back, a hungered and conflicted gaze roaming over the soft contours of joe's face, searching for something reflective before he thrusts the heel of his palm over the tented zipper of his jeans. he wants to coax a confession out of him, wants to fracture joe in his hands and then put him back together again. "this what you wanted when you called me and my father a fag, or am i jumping to conclusions again?"

[felixferitas]

@carminekings: ❛  if you've got a problem with the way i handle things, just say so.  ❜ ( joe x felix / random impulsive au where joe is venetia's temporary summer fling and he's way more crass and hard to bond with than anyone expects ? ? ? joe being overtly handsy with venetia perhaps & felix taking issue with his obnoxious behaviour ? ? ? )

felix has experienced one too many summers like this, if you asked him. whether it be venetia usurping a friend he's invited over for a few weeks or in a case more like this where she'd collected any stray off the street that would clean up well with a bit of spit and polish, it was getting a bit too rich for felix's blood. especially when these uneducated strays felt up his sister right in front of him. there was being rough around the edges, and then being downright disrespectful. "sure, mate. because you're the type that seems like you'd be so receptive to constructive criticism," he drawls, rolling his eyes. he's not going to waste his breath if it's going to go in one ear and out the other, not if his body language could communicate a lot for him. "i just think vee's wasting her time with you. it'd hurt your feelings if i went into the 'why', although i'm not sure why i'm still concerned with social niceties when you're practically fingerbanging my sister six feet away from me. classy stuff, that." a sneer tugs at his lips. joe has barely been at saltburn for any length of time, and felix was already counting down the days of the calendar until he'd left and mourning all the plans that joe has been included in. felix was a people-pleaser, he could pretend and shovel shit with a smile on his face with the best of them, but nothing would lose favor with him quicker than if you disrespected venetia. venetia herself seemed to enjoy this type of disrespect well enough, but god, why did he have to be privy to it? his gaze flits from joe's face to behind the cabinet he's standing in front of, jaw clenching with petty disdain. "can you move? you make a better door than a window." it's not likely, but maybe he'll be in a better mood once he's had some caffeine in his system. if not that, the satisfaction of giving the other man a tongue-lashing would surely do the trick. dependent on how joe reacts. felix could have the patience of a saint at times, and the temperament of a ill-behaved child at others.

[egojock]

@carminekings: you still live at 28 fuckboy lane? ( chester & nate )

up until chester morris transferred, he'd never seen anyone get dress-coded at east highland. chester was like jules, except male in all the ways it counted and unapologetically flamboyant. jules, at least, was occasionally conservative about her queerness and how far she deviated from the norm. to top it all off, chester was also a jock, so if their disagreements ever got physical there was a glimmer of a chance that chester could get a few hits in. nate doesn't want it to come to that, as annoying as he finds chester's entire existence. his proximity challenged nate's worldview, the one cal shaped, almost as much as jules' did. "uhuh. not moving any time soon. if people wanna typecast me, that's their prerogative. why, you thinkin' of dropping by to pay me a visit?" he raises his brows, posture defensive as he slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans, eyeing chester with an air of suspicion. nate shakes his head, grinning. "don't you think you've caused enough of a scene today getting dress-coded? you're barking up the wrong tree," nate mutters with no real bite to it, their verbal sparring was entertaining enough for the moment and he had no desire to cross any harsh lines or majorly offend. as unpredictable and voilatile as nate was capable of being, he didn't bite without first being given a reason.

[egojock]

@carminekings: ❛ don't think this changes anything between us. ❜ ( joe & nate / joe saying this kinda teasingly because they either went for a drive — perhaps skipping school — and for once they don't even f*ck ? it becomes almost like a date ? maybe they smoke a joint in the backseat and share large fries and the weed leads them to makeout a lil' but it doesn't go any further and it's strangely romantic ? ) ( source ! )

"okay," nate says, tone clipped, like he can't really deal with all the mental gymnastics joe is having to do right now to make this into a problem, and he's well aware he's being a cunt by giving such a non-reaction. nate knows joe well enough by know to figure the reaction, the blood boiling and thrumming under nate's skin is what he wants. only joe walsh could turn something as innocuous as hotboxing and drinking milkshakes in his truck into something sinister. joe needs an exorcist or a fucking mood ring. "fucking hell. i'm gonna go back to kissing you now, unless you have any more helpful reminders. i can palm your dick if that'd somehow make this less upsetting for you. i dunno?" selfishly, nate would like to go back to kissing, because the smoke has dried his mouth out something awful but made everything taste infinitely more fresh, sweeter, and when he sucks the swell of joe's bottom lip into his mouth it tastes like strawberry milk. maybe if he were sober and more inhibited, he'd be freaking out right along with him about what it all means, both emotionally and existentially, but after smoking an entire joint down the roach all nate can focus on is the wet pressure of joe's mouth and the noises he doesn't even seem to realize he's making, nate's hand stroking tender circles against his flank.

[tragedyrich]

@carminekings: ❛ who are you under there? what are you hiding? are you just hideously scarred? ❜ ( joe & rue / assuming they both use drugs to cope -- they're high at some house party and/or outside and getting to know each other . . . )

if this was some kind of half-baked attempt at getting in her pants, rue would've shut this shit down in five seconds flat. the intrusive questions are met with rue clearing her throat of phlegm before levelling joe with a scrutinizing, judgemental gaze. "jesus fucking christ. are you always this intense when you smoke, or did someone lace something in your joint?" she squints, as if that'll suddenly make the intentions behind joe's questions more clear. it didn't exactly take someone with the intellect of a rocket scientist to figure out that rue was broken, with most people at school having assumed she'd overdosed and passed away already. the fact that she was still alive and kicking was a surprise. triumphing against adversity? not exactly. that just didn't seem to be in the cards for her. "if this is your way of telling me my skin looks like shit, i already know. and in case you put it together already, it is because of the drugs," she informs him, the corners of her lips lifting up into a smirk. rue's not going to tell him shit unless he comes at her with a different approach. leads with his own heavy baggage first, so she doesn't overwhelm him right off the bat. and she can tell there is baggage -- she's seen enough shit to know just by looking.

[tragedyrich]

@carminekings: [ passionate ] alternatively pre-shower from martin !!

it's a very rare, surreal thing to be drenched in your father's blood and grey matter, something nate realizes very acutely as he pulls off his blood-soaked shirt over his head. he balls it up, tossing it in the sink and glances over to his accomplice, breath hitching at the sight of blood marring pale skin and a lightly muscled torso. locker rooms and getting undressed around so many other men made him develop a mild phobia, but he trusts martin. he's just killed his father, so nate knows he isn't in his right mind, but he feels lucid. adrenaline is coursing through him, still struggling to calm down and get his heart rate back to normal, but martin is right there and undressing beside him whilst scrubbing blood off his hands. martin asks him if he's okay, and he can only huff an incredulous laugh. "yeah. yeah, i'm fine. it was just a lot," nate tells him, a hand scrubbing over his tired face. there's a lapse of silence. martin is so fucking blunt, all the time, that it's as much a relief as it is overwhelming. he points out that nate keeps staring at his lips, and asks if nate wants to kiss him. he's lucid, but also so far gone that he can't find it in himself to second-guess this decision when he's already acted so impulsively. methodically, but still impulsive. nate corners him against the bathroom counter, eyes dark and full of intent as he brandishes a palm against martin's cheek. "what if i do? y'gonna deny me that, after everything?" martin owes him nothing, he's been more than generous with his time and intentions, but nate is greedy and wants. he doesn't even know if martin's ever kissed anyone before, but fuck, he's not a good person and he'll play the dead dad card if he has to, even if he was the one who put him in the goddamn ground. his gaze flits down to the soft curves of martin's mouth, considering in his seduction. "c'mon. i've seen the fuckin' way you look at me, and i know a queer when i see one," he murmurs, leaning in to press their mouths together and sweeping his tongue past the seam of martin's lips with the intent to unravel, fingers knitting into the hair at his nape.

[egojock]

@carminekings: [ GIFTS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house with gifts for the homeowner themselves

when martin shows up to the jacobs household with gifts for the entire family, nate is dumbfounded, to say the least. thought out and considerate gifts, too. martin is detail oriented and has taken everything nate'd told him in confidence into consideration, offering marsha a bouquet of fresh flowers and aaron a smiley-face keychain. he looks befuddled, but grunts an affirming "thanks," before retreating back to his room. "so you're the kid my son has been hanging around." cal is assessing martin, and nate's stomach feels like it's full of lead as he stands there beside him, so nate opens the door to allow him inside. his cheeks heat, accepting the nfl chargers mug martin's gifted to him to inside and promptly fill it with whiskey. nate takes a swig, his expression pinched because the night hasn't even begun and he already wishes it was over. it was nothing against martin, he just didn't like involving people he cared about with his family. it always ended disastrously. "mom says dinner's ready," nate says, trying to provide an out or an alternative conversation escape route as his gaze flickers over to martin's face, then back to the family-style buffet spread. salmon, roasted parmesan aspagarus and cheesed cauliflower. he hurriedly makes his plate, avoiding eyecontact.

[egojock]

@carminekings: i have a better idea. you just let me do everything. ( nate & joe ) / squabbling over something unimportant ? ? ? them trying to retrieve a pair of keys from over a fence after they tossed it too far ? them about to be confronted by officers whilst high ? the world is your controversial OYSTER . . .

nate shoots him a withering glare, a half-hearted elbow being jabbed into joe's solar-plexus. he could handle joe's smart fucking mouth another time, but ideally, not now. they'd just smoked a joint about an hour ago, down to the roach, and while it certainly took the edge off nate can see his future circling the drain when a cop car parks a few spots adjacent to them. nate's actually not as afraid of the cops as he should be, since he's diverted their attention from him onto more formidable opponents before, but he's not really the most experienced drug user either. "fuck. no, no fuckin' way, if they come up to us, you are not doing the talking. but if they start saying some shit about explicit photos of minors, we might have to book it," nate argues, a hand scrubbing at his face tiredly. nate barely trusts joe's mouth on a good, sober day, he has no clue what would fly out of it unfiltered and unmitigated. paranoia and fear start to eat at him, because after watching a few of his peers, teammates get busted for taking anabolic steroids his father made him promise to never do drugs or take any non-holistic supplement. "it'll be fine. we just have to act, uh. not high," nate replies, tone monotonous and soulless as the uniform-clad officers exit their vehicle to stalk towards them. when you do illegal things, bad things happen to you. he's pretty sure most of the cops at the station knew nate by name, and possibly knew joe through other means. what could they even be griped at for? loitering? jaywalking? if nate really wanted everyone in his life to hate him post highschool graduation, he'd just join the police academy. yeah, that'd be another cliché for the books. his fingers claw at the fabric of joe's hoodie, subconsciously seeking reassurance before giving an acknowledging nod as they're approached. nate smiles benignly, trying not to recall the last time he was in handcuffs. "good evening, officers. anything i can help you with?"