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" It's Andyr. Do your thing. "

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[ It's instinct for Steve to push at his leg, and then, Andyr's invading more of his space with his weird dessert, leaving him with a plethora of alternatives to what he actually says. Of course, he could take what he offered him and let it be, feels the lingering sweetness of whatever had been back at the party still affecting him, and eventually, he just grabs Andyr's hand to give it a squeeze. He uses it as a distraction, a moment in which he's shoving the blanket out of the way as he makes an impromptu show of shifting onto a knee and gripping beneath his knee. ]

I think you have to go places to actually do that. [ There's a smug look on his face, borderline mischievous in a way he hasn't felt since before crashing into the Atlantic, and they're so close to the water that it's natural to pull him up, reminding himself that Andyr's heavier than he looks. ] Let me help. [ The way he holds him for that brief second is a sort of awkward bridal carry, and then, he's just ducking his head as he tosses him towards the water.

They can spend time talking about their histories later. Right now, like he said, he just wants to enjoy the time he has and what might be left of this journey of theirs. ]

The fuc-- [ all Andyr gets out in reaction to being suddenly princess carried by this man, feeling annoyingly much smaller than he knows he is, before it dawns on him that this is not Steve having a momentary lapse of sanity, but being a shithead. And Andyr immediately starts flailing, squirming, and shouting in a way that still sounds a lot like laugh. ]

Nonono, you asshole--! [ and there goes andyr's head, underwater, with an eruption of bubbles, as he's still cursing Steve's name and heritage. another flurry of splashes and limbs signals him surfacing again, spitting out water and sweeping soaked bangs back from his forehead. Eyes settle on Steve, with brows raised, looking ready to charge out of the water and tackle his goofy ass. ]

You know what this means, right? Means you're coming in here with me. [ Andyr's telling him, as he stalks up the bank of the lagoon towards the rock Steve's standing on, clothes soaked through and clinging, with a wide, maybe a little bit dangerous grin on his lips. ] So you've got between now and when I get over there to throw yourself in, or it'll be me tossing you in like a goddamn ragdoll this time, Blondie.

[ Steve's on his feet now, leaning over to lift the blanket up and toss it far from the water so it doesn't get wet, and he spends a few seconds watching Andyr move towards him, movements a little laden by the water gluing his clothes to him. It doesn't help that he genuinely feels like laughing at his threat rather than take it seriously, standing his ground and hardly one to back down from a challenge. He knows Andyr is strong enough to move him, but he isn't going to go into that water without a fight. And to be fair, it isn't a fight at all he gives him when he decides on what to do. Steve takes a step forward and rushes him, using the momentum of the slight slope to gain a little speed so he can get an arm around the other man's waist and drag them both into the water.

It's not a graceful entry whatsoever, hitting the surface kind of hard and forgetting to suck in a breath as he sinks down with his grip loosening just a fraction. The water's cool but hardly enough to warrant freezing in, and when he breaks the surface, he breathes heavy, letting out an amused sound that pulls at the expression on his face. He feels just as at ease as he had mid-way through that party, like anything is possible, that guilt or sorrow or grief have no hold on him here, and he lets go of Andyr when his head is above water, grinning at him. ]

Guess it did mean I was coming in with you. [ He does whatever the version of a shrug is while treading water. ] Better luck tossing me in next time?

[ that was rude. how dare you rob him of his revenge. again, andyr realizes a second too late what Steve's planning. The entire charge into the water, Steve's getting bony elbows stabbed into his back and bony knees jabbing into his sides, up the point that Andyr pops back up from the water (again), to hear Steve cute bit of commentary. ]

Oh, you fuck. [ Despite having just been released, Andyr's launching himself back at the man, an arm around his neck and another shoving at the top of his head as he's putting all his spider monkey clamoring into trying to dunk him. god, it's been years since andyr felt this light, let alone was having this much actual fun with anyone, and he can't seem to stop laughing like a maniac child, snickering as he practically climbs onto Steve's shoulders in his attempts to sink him. ]

You came out here just to torment me, didn't you? [ he gets out, hands part pulling at the man's hair a bit ridiculously. ] God, the least you could do is fucking go down out of courtesy, you douche.

[ If he hadn't wanted Andyr to climb on him, he would have been adamant about not letting him, but as it is, he honestly doesn't have the heart to fight him that much. They're having fun in a way he hasn't experienced in far too long, and Steve lets himself sink just enough that he can get his hands up and around Andyr's wrists. He pulls forward and kicks up at the same time, using the leverage to toss him even further across the lagoon. By then, he's already making a break for the opposite side. ]

I asked if you wanted company. [ It's a low-key taunt, nothing at all serious given how silly they're being. ] You could have said no. [ And that's the end of that, deciding to use the waterfall at the far end as cover and pulling himself up on the small ledge just behind it to sit. He expects Andyr to join him - or try to seek his revenge yet again - and while he waits, Steve pulls at his shoes and drops them behind him.

If things could always be this simple, this good, he doesn't know if he'd ever want to leave. Normally, it would fill him so deeply with anything except happiness, but right now, soaked to the skin and parts of him aching from Andyr's elbows and knees and the bite at his arm, he doesn't think he could feel any lighter. ] But I'm fair. I'll let you have the next one.

[ In truth, Andyr isn't that upset about being thrown around. A strong competitive determination born in him to get Steve back for it at some point, yes, but not so much that he wants to sour any kind of mood with it. Besides, behind tossed around is kind of fun, and he's sort of forgotten the feeling of it from when he was a kid playing with his dad or neighborhood friends. Not many can actually launch him these days. That's what it brings him back to - the days before everything crumbled. Before the earth fell away under his feet and dropped him down into hell.

yet, not in the way that's just erasing it all, like the luminous sea had done when he woke up younger, left to mull over it later when things went back to normal. here, on this weird ocean planet, he's himself, or whatever frankenstein patchwork thing himself is now, and he's still able to laugh, smile, and go ten minutes without any thought of hapsburg. where he is paddling his way towards the waterfall, looking like some kind of otter creature with just the upper part of his face above the surface, it can't be seen, but he's smiling with a kind of warmth he can't seem to contain. ]

Didn't know my company was going to be a jerk. [ He quips, as he stands underneath the waterfall for a moment, squinted eyes closed and lips pulled back in a grin, letting it pour over him in a way that just feels wonderfully relaxing, before he moves to sit with Steve. Copying him, Andyr tugs at his shoes, setting them aside, and tugs his shirt free a second after, not wanting to deal with how much extra cold the soaked fabric will bring. ] You know we're gonna freeze our asses off trying to get back to the city now, right?

[ As everything settles, Steve just watches him. It'd always been something he'd done when he'd had the time, riding the subway or just wandering the streets in an effort to people-watch and understand what it is he'd missed all those years being frozen. Andyr doesn't remind him of home though. He makes him think of something else, of a brawling kid in the back alleys and what it had been like not to be so troubled by life and free. There's spirit in his smile and so much independence that he's almost envious of it. Almost. Steve just keeps grinning at him, pulling at the loose material of the shirt he's wearing to roll it up and pull it over his head in a mimic of Andyr's own movements. ]

I think we'll be okay. [ It's dark now, his MID glowing softly so they're not entirely without light, and it illuminates the now-permanent blue streak along his collarbone right above his heart, the not so white bandage wrapped neatly around the arm Andyr had bit. There's a soft pink stain to it, but Steve doesn't pay it any mind. He's not caring about anything except Andyr and the rush of the waterfall around them. ] If you get cold, I can warm you up.

[ The comment is completely casual, hardly an implication of more than what he had in mind when he said it. After all, there's a reason he'd made sure to spare the blankets, and it's easier to share body heat than suffer alone. Still, the events of the entire night are beginning to catch up with him, and he opens his mouth to elaborate before floundering a little and just flushing a bit instead. ]

[ Not much attention is paid to Steve in particular as they go about setting the wet clothes aside, and Andyr busies himself with rolling his pant legs up, at least, not until he casually makes a comment that would be a hell of an innuendo coming out of most anyone else's mouth. He can't help the spike of warmth that alone sends through him, and Andyr blames that on the wine from earlier, the food, and all this party nonsense, but it's Captain Marshmallow. He's the last person Andyr would suspect to be making innuendos at him while half naked. ]

Since you're probably the most wholesome person I've ever met, I'm gonna assume you meant that in the most G rated way possible. [ he tells him with a small smile, trying not to laugh at his flustering, as he turns to look at him with brows raised. right, the floundering and flushing is a good indicator that he'd meant something much more family friendly, and just had it come out suggestive by incident of being a huge dork.

Looking at him now, though, Andyr's eyes catch on that blue streak across his chest, highlighted by the light from the MID, and his brows furrow, a hand reaching out automatically to touch at the color, fingers rubbing at it like it's just a bit of paint or dye that stained on him. ] The hell's that? You didn't have that before, did you?

[ because, okay, yes, he looked at you one of those several times they've been some level of undressed near each other, big deal, sue him. ]

[ He's so grateful to Andyr for pointing that out. Really. In fact, he's so grateful that the blush sort of heats its way into his ears, and he slouches forward a little in an effort to hide it, doubting it'll do much good considering their light source is coming from his own wrist. Still, he tries, and it's almost fine until Andyr reaches over to touch his chest. Steve's hardly a stranger to that either, though it's usually less purposeful rubbing, and his mind sort of shuts down for a second or two before his own hand is grabbing at Andyr's wrist.

It's definitely permanent, and it's definitely not going anywhere. After all those years of never having a scar or scratch on him, it's kind of strange. Ink that won't come off. A reminder of how careless he'd been, how useless. ]

It was back on an outpost a few months ago. [ The one with all those slave traders. ] A lot of the crew ended up there by accident, and I tried to help 'em. Didn't want anyone getting sold off or worse. [ He gives a one-shouldered shrug, letting his hand slip from Andyr's and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. ] Guess the serum can't stop everything. [ If Andyr doesn't know about that, he's sure he'll ask. Still, now isn't really the time to be talking about something so heavy. He just wants to enjoy the water and the company and maybe find some comfortable place to sleep in a few hours. ]

[ At first, Andyr isn't following, doesn't get the timeline for the things he'd been told about before, and is more focused on the hand at his wrist, frowning for how quickly Steve had wanted to touch gone. Nothing he takes personally, more so concerned about what the mark means to him. Made more so with the tone he takes.

It's at 'sold off' that is all slots into place, and Andyr's hand reflexively tightens around the fingers slipping through his, eyes a bit unfocused. The slaver post that Nick told him about. The one that had set him off one of the first days he way here, when he was ready to hunt down the old captains and empty their throats onto the hallway tiles at the mere suggestion that they might've had something to do with people being sent there. It still lingers in him - that creeping paranoia that they're just cattle in a pen, that they can be traded out or picked off whenever it's convenient. That maybe no one actually goes home through the Ingress. Hadn't the new captains said something about it being design to carry cargo? The reminder of that place, and the new knowledge that Steve had been one of those people traded off, takes andyr from the relaxed, peaceful calm he'd been so easily sunken into, to a flare of rage, and nothing to do with it.

The slavers aren't here, the captains aren't here, what happened to Steve is already done and the ink on his skin is branded permanently onto him. His eyes practically burn into the blue streak he's staring at, and his hand around Steve's tightens, as if holding onto him can somehow erase it. ]

Are they dead? The slavers. [ it's hard for him to let something like that go so easily, to just go back to feeling blissful and contented. least of all with whatever's going on here fueling his compulsions. sometimes andyr's compulsions aren't that pretty. but maybe, if he knows they're gone, that they paid, that something was done. maybe that's enough. (nothing's ever enough to make up for being another man's property, steve was from a place safe from that, he should have been safe) ]

[ It is something that happened, but it's also behind them now, behind him. Steve doesn't hold a grudge against the person who put that mark on his body, remembering intently how he'd felt even after he'd come to. No, he doesn't hate the person who did this to him; rather, he can't stand his own actions, how he'd willingly gone in expecting to free all those people like he had during the War, when Bucky had been MIA and assumed dead, and how it had turned completely around on him. He glances down at Andyr's hand around his, gently twisting his fingers so that they push between his and he can squeeze them properly. A tender moment that no one else will ever come to know had passed between them. (And idly, he thinks, this is the type of affection he prefers, quiet and calming and defined by the unspoken desperation.) His mouth thins. ]

A lot of them are. [ Not by his hand, not that many. The rest of the crew had come to their aid, unable to tolerate the very thought of freedom being stripped away the way it had been for anyone there, and Steve sighs. ] And those who aren't probably wish they were. It's... [ It's not okay, but what else should he say? ] This universe didn't give us the best welcome.

[ A weak smile, and he reaches over in an absent gesture to smooth some of Andyr's hair down, tug a tiny wayward leaf from the damp strands. The back of his hand brushes his cheek, a careful motion , and then, he's looking away to stare at the waterfall. ]

Good. [ firm, resolute. good. dead, or living something so pitiful they'd beg for it. like andyr did once. like so many other slaves do. it isn't living, isn't existence - just waiting to rot, or something worse. something like what andyr is now. there are some sins he can forgive. some errors of judgment, some acts of desperation. but any human being who can do that to another soul, as far as andyr's concerned, doesn't deserve redemption. ] Shoulda nuked them.

[ spoken distantly, somewhere else, before there's the touch his hair, careful and fussing, like when he's seen mothers clean smudges off their son's faces. like when his father would fix jehanne's braids at the park. and that straying touch against the mist sprayed coolness of his cheek, something like a small shiver running through him at the softness of the touch. something so, so foreign, and what reason at all does steve rogers have to issue something like that to him? what has he ever done to deserve it from him? what's inside him that seems worth it? that he could possibly see? ]

Why're you so nice to me? [ a near whispered question, spoken in something of a trance, andyr's eyes searching his face and feeling like there must be answers to all of this somewhere there. how, and why, steve's so kind, when he's seen things like whatever happened to bucky. why he'd seen only offers of assistance and welcoming in the baths the other day, when Andyr'd been certain there were ulterior motives. ] All I've done is hurt you.

[ Something about the tone of their conversation feels strange like this, after everything that's come between them in the last several minutes, but Steve doesn't consider it beyond that. The slavers and what they had done are left as a memory, some of it now a little more permanent than he might have imagined it being, and what's important now is this moment, what lies between him and Andyr. What might never be again after this strange haze fades away and leaves them open and raw. He feels that shiver rather than sees it, hesitating at the curve of his jaw before pushing through and letting his hand slide down the slope of neck and shoulder. His skin is a bit chilled, cool from the water, but Steve feels the strength of him through that simple touch, gaze pulling away to look back at his face. ]

I never thought you meant it. [ Each and every time had almost been an accident, more Steve's fault than Andyr's, and that speaks so much to him. If he'd wanted to hurt him, if he'd wanted to do something more than that to anyone else, he would have seen it already. He would have heard it from the others, and he doubts that anyone who would take the time to draw him a fish or write him notes isn't deserving of some sort of kindness. ] And I guess... I don't know. From what you've said, people have been doing that to you all your life. Everyone should have something nice to remember.

[ He lifts his shoulder in a shrug and squeezes his fingers, letting their twined hands drop as he turns to look out at the waterfall. There's something else, too, but he's not sure what it is, opening his mouth to comment and falling short. Instead, the hand on his shoulder slips down to rush against his bicep. ] You want me to throw you in again to make up for it?

[ Poorly timed and a partial joke, though Steve's smile is genuine and sweet. ]

[ had he been home, or even back on the Moira, a touch like this would have Andyr easily punching someone through a wall. reminds him too much of his body being coveted, claimed as property by someone through legal loopholes that keep the Houses thriving. ignoring any claim or right he has to his own skin in the light of either scientific endeavors or personal desires of a baser kind. but right now, it just seems... kind. warm. caring. an attempt to soothe, and Andyr wonders how he'd gone to that, when the topic issue had been Steve's enslavement. Andyr swallows dryly, lips a bit parted, with goosebumps prickling along his shoulders and arms, eyes holding Steve with such focus. ]

Not all my life. [ the last several years, but there was a life before that. one he'll never be able to go back to. but god, it was a dream, thinking of it now. he was normal once, do you know that, steve? he had a father, a sister, a mother. a house, he went to school, worked a job, had friends. he'd had a life, with hopes and dreams and laughter and love. and it's gone. Steve says he's been wanting to give him something nice, and suddenly Andyr feels like such a weak thing, frail, yet isn't rushing immediately to anger from it. ] So it's pity?

[ Spoken plainly, without any kind of heat behind it, just a question, as his brows knit somewhat. is that what he is now? he supposes it makes sense. Steve gripping suddenly at his bicep wakes him up somewhat, a flicker of a smile on his lips, and his hands moving to grip Steve's forearms, to keep his balance and fight at the attempt to move him, if it comes. he laughs, though it's a bit removed. ]

Whatever, no matter how much of that you do, it's not gonna keep me from thinking you're a marshmallow.

There's a difference between wanting to be nice to someone because they deserve it and pitying them. It's not pity, Andyr.

[ Whatever he thinks, whatever he might assume. There's not enough room in Steve to feel that way, though maybe he'd once felt it when they'd first met all those months ago. He'd wanted to understand, wanted to know, and now that he does, at least some of it, there's more than that to what he thinks of Andyr. Pity would belittle the strength he sees in him, his own brand of sincerity beneath all the snark and bite, and those hands at his arms suddenly warm him in a way that makes him shiver this time, the ache of the bite still deep in his skin soothed by the very pressure of his fingers. He hadn't actually considered throwing him, trying to off-put the strange intensity that's building between them with a little humor.

There's a quiet sigh, letting his arms slide slowly from Andyr's hands. ] You really think that's what I am, huh? [ It's a partial tease, uncertain about the answer but leaning closer to the other man regardless of that. In the fading light, he can focus on the shape of his face and the rhythm of his breathing and the soft pull of a smile on his mouth. Steve's eyes drop to his lips and then back to his eyes. He doesn't know what he's thinking, isn't sure he'd been thinking straight since he'd said he would join him, and a slight frown tugs at his expression. ] Because I'm nice to you?

[ Because he's nice to almost everyone? ]

[ deserve it. what has he done to deserve anything like kindness? near everything andyr's done in the last six years has been to make a nightmare of himself. to leave bloodbaths in hallways, to make guards scream so loud it echos up to the House director's desk. there's been moments of compassion - for posie, for mikal. for alva. but even to the majority of the other mice, he'd been like some wraith that stalks the halls, crying out for blood, willing to charge straight through them to get what he wants. even the ones that'd tried to give him the benefit of the doubt had gotten too fed up with him eventually. hell, even alva had thrown a punch or two at him once. and yet, here's some super hero giving him fish drawings and putting up with being not only bitten, but choked twice, hanging out with him under waterfalls at night.

more accurately: having faith in him. andyr's starting to feel suspiciously like a living, breathing human being. ]

Because you say sappy, sweet crap like that. [ Flashing a small smile, his own attempt to lighten the tone, and maybe all he could think of to really reply to that. the rest of it seemed like entirely too much to put into words, and entirely too personal and soft as well. But he can't help tagging on the disclaimer, voice softer, as his eyes follow Steve leaning closer to him, words a bit quieted. ] It's a good thing.

[ watching him, andyr can tell he'd looked down to his lips, and tugs at one with his teeth a moment, nerves rising in him, but a completely familiar curiosity striking up - what it'd be like if he'd just leaned those few inches closer, if he just brush his lips against Steve's. It causes him to reflexively blink down to Steve's mouth, and quickly back up, resolutely meeting his gaze for a beat or two. Steve's arms have slid to that Andyr's hands are only loosely circled around his wrists, but it's enough he can feel his pulse there, making Steve feel like entirely too real and present of a person. ]

Your eyes are really pretty. [ #nailedit. ]

Edited 2016-09-14 06:33 (UTC)

[ He almost doesn't believe it. A good thing when he continues to call him a marshmallow? Like he's soft and sweet and nothing of the soldier he really is. But maybe that's not entirely it, wishing to know more of what makes Andyr who he is and the reason behind all of this. Why they've gotten so close, what draws Steve to him and makes him pursue someone who needs more than what he could ever possibly give him in whatever time they might have on the Moira. Why he suddenly feels so protective and responsible for this person who's worked his way deep under his skin. Andyr knows more about him than almost anyone else, things that aren't written in history books or on walls in a museum, and there's something warming about that, about someone else knowing Steve and only wanting to know him. It causes a tight feeling in his chest, shifting just a fraction closer to listen to him.

His hearing is so good, he'd have heard him sitting on the opposite side of this ledge, but he wants to be close to him. He wants to soak up that warmth, gently turning his hands around so that they're holding each other in a loose sort of embrace. Steve lets his thumb slide over the inner part of Andyr's wrist, huffing out an embarrassed sort of noise at the way he compliments him. ]

I never paid much attention to 'em. [ And he ducks his head a bit, trying to fight the instinctive blush that's creeping up his neck into his ears. At least it's getting darker, so there's no reason why Andyr should be able to see it well enough to comment on it. Yet, it doesn't stop Steve from pushing further into his personal space. ] Yours are real nice though. It's the first thing I noticed about you when we met.

[ Besides the obvious similarities to his best friend, of course, and because honesty seems to be the order of the evening, as it had been at the party. Steve breaks contact with Andyr's hand to lift his fingers up to touch his cheek, careful and slow and eventually cupping the side of his face. ] Some other things too, I guess. [ His gaze settles at his mouth for a bit longer this time, trying to sort out what he feels and what he wants to say, and it sits so long that he doesn't even realize he's staring now. ]

[ The thumb brushing along Andyr's wrist sends a small chill through him, that turns into a soft laugh, when he watches Steve duck his head, modest. but more than that, the comment on his eyes has a small smile twitching the corner of his lips up, and gradually growing wider. He'd always been proud of the weird color there. Thought it made him look special, unique, despite how coined it was as freakish, the mark of pariahs. Steve's hand is at his cheek again, more solid than the brief touch before had been, and it's such a soft, careful gesture.

the contact's warm, soothing in a way that reaches into him and pushes that want to go with each small whim and urge that comes across his mind. hand free, he lifts his own to touch at steve's face, exploring. first, along the arch of his eyebrow, and down, beneath his eye, just above his cheekbone, over the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw, and lastly, to the curve of his lips. a hesitant, cautious touch, as if he's not allowed, as if he'll have his hand slapped away any moment, and Andyr's sort of holding his breath, while his fingertips trace an outline of steve's lips.

it happens all at once, that push in the back of his mind shoving him into the action before he thinks better of it, and andyr can't seem to remember what happened in the space between touching Steve's lips and kissing them.

his hand over Steve's curls, squeezing a bit tighter, and the fingers once at his mouth move up to push into his hair. there's nothing hard or demanding in it, nor anything shy or fleeting. just a kiss, because he'd wanted to, because he needed to feel it, because it's Steve and Steve's something Andyr just can't wrap his mind around, but finds himself admiring nonetheless. ]

[ Maybe he should have expected it, the soft pressure of Andyr's mouth against his, but there's too much happening around them to really calculate every outcome, grateful for the touches that come before it and strangely grounded in his presence. It's a different sort of sensation he gets from being with anyone else, soaking it up the closer they get, and when Steve turns into Andyr's fingertips, he knows he's lost to whatever comes next.

The kiss steals his breath, however careful yet firm it is, and his fingers curl against his cheek, instinct as he fights between pulling away to give them both space and pursuing even more of this to taste him. It's intimate in that Andyr is never so touchy, doesn't like to be touched even when he's given his permission, the proof of that torn deeply into his skin, and Steve opens up to that almost instantly, lips parting to deepen that contact out of want rather than necessity or anything else. If it ends, at least there will be these few seconds of it, and Steve's bold enough to draw the hand he still holds to his shoulder, freeing his own to use it as leverage to press even closer. There are too many sensations to take in all that once too - the rush of the water, the heat of Andyr's skin, the damp slide of his lips, the movement of his chest as he breathes - but he tries to sort them one by one, brushing his knuckles against the side of his face before caressing the slope of neck and shoulder.

He doesn't fight the reasons why he should or shouldn't be doing this. He doesn't question the what or how of it. Steve only draws back enough to rest their foreheads together and tries to remember to breathe. ] Andyr-- [ But he's stuck on just his name, swallowing and cautiously licking at his bottom lip. It's strange and not. It's satisfying and complicated, and whatever lies beyond this is something he knows he can't let go of now. ]

[ To Andyr, someone who's had so few experiences like this, and only one this slow and simple, it makes his head spin. Another time, back on the Moira, he would've jerked away here, and likely scampered off, too concerned with what this is, and what it would lead to, how it would end in hurt for one party or the other. but right now, it's just good, and Andyr's been so long without something that's just simply good. Not wound up in anything else. He's kissing him because he wants to, because it makes some cold part of him unfurl and warm, basking in the heat and softness of it.

It makes him feel like a person. Like someone that might matter, that maybe has a voice, that would perhaps be noticed if he were to disappear. He touches him like he's something treasured, and Andyr feels like he's lighting up.

Steve's hands on his skin are a heavy, nurturing presence, impossible to ignore and Andyr's body wants to sink into the contact. It's instantaneous, how he pulls closer once Steve moves Andyr's hand to his shoulder, and he slides his knee to put a folded leg next to Steve's hip, between that and the arm supporting him, the other bends, sole of his foot propped somewhere on the other side of Steve's lap, getting his limbs more comfortable as he scoots his way closer. The hand at his shoulder turns to an arm, looped over his back, from one to the other, and the other runs a thumb along Steve's cheekbone, shuffled close enough their chests are only a few inches from pressed together, by the time Steve pauses, their foreheads touching while deep inhales are drowned out in the rush of the waterfall. ]

Yeah. [ he knows. all the 'we shouldn't do this' and 'let's slow down', but god, he knows he'll lose this if they do. an open palm smooths over the side of Steve's face, a soft caress, and he dares to press one, and two, short, pleading kisses to him, wanting more of it. ] Can we just... not think about the rest? For a while longer?

[ It's not about slowing down or not doing this at all. It's not about wanting or needing, and it certainly has nothing to do with the fact he hasn't really kissed someone like this before. He just doesn't know where this is going to put them when it's all over, when he can think a little more clearly and doesn't remember the vivid heat of his mouth and the slick touch of his skin beneath his hand. There's an unnamed pull telling him to finally move himself, using the leverage of Andyr's arms around his neck to tug him across the short space between them and into his lap, and there's no almost where they're touching now. Their chests are pressed flat, Steve's fingers pressing into his hips as if searching for something to steady himself, and he nods against him, lets their noses rub and their lips graze in a way that's nearly desperate in wanting to understand exactly why they're doing this and what else could be taken from this moment. ]

No thinking. [ It's quiet agreement, mumbled against the corner of his mouth, and this is where his courage fails him, unsure what he wants and what he's supposed to do. He could kiss him again, Steve thinks, and he wants to give into that easy feeling of showing Andyr just how good the world can be if he gives it a chance, how nice something as sweet as a kiss actually is. But there's also a growing sort of hesitation. ] I just-- [ have no idea what I'm doing ] Tell me this is okay.

[ At least give him that much. Whatever else is after that is something they'll have to come to terms with later, biting down lightly on his tongue before swallowing the rest of the words that refuse to come and kissing him. It's softer than the first time, exploring and careful until he parts his lips and presses deeper. Steve doesn't push for more than that, wanting to give Andyr the opportunity to decide beyond that initial slide of their mouths what it is he wants. His fingers stroke up his sides, tracing the shape of his ribs and smoothing up along his back to curl around his shoulder blades. He purposely avoids the ports, dragging his mouth along the curve of his jaw and to his ear, and when he speaks again, his voice is rougher. ] Do you... what do you want?

[ There's no argument or protest to Steve hoisting Andyr up into his lap. Some surprise, perhaps, which quickly melts into Andyr grinning against Steve's lips, a muted laugh in the back of his throat, as he settled against him. Steve's bare skin is warm and welcoming, even with the bit of water still clinging to his chest in a light sheen, and Andyr presses against him, arms tightening around his shoulders, fingers carding through short, damp strands of dark blond. His hips arch forward into Steve's hands, fingers running around the curves of his shoulders. ]

If it wasn't okay, you'd know. [ if there's one thing andyr's good at, it's making sure the entire world knows when he's not alright with something. but, fine, he'll tell him anyway. ] It's okay. It's really okay.

[ And god, why do you have to go asking him that? he couldn't tell the man what he wants on a normal day, let alone now, when he's settled into his lap, pressing against him at every point he can, a light roll of his hips against Steve's mostly unconscious. Didn't they just talk about 'no thinking'? A low, quiet chuckle rumbles in Andyr's chest, as he kisses continuously across Steve's cheeks, at the corners of his eyes, against his temples and just below his ears. ]

I just wanna keep touching you. However you want that to happen, I'm happy with. [ until one of them comes around to their sanity, Andyr's guessing Steve first, and calls a stop to it. that'll be a painful moment, he thinks, and forgive him for avoiding it as much as he can for now. ]

[ He doesn't know why, but the first thing he really notices about Andyr is that he isn't soft. Nothing about him is, all hard angles and muscle, and it's even more distinct when he rocks his hips into his like Steve wouldn't notice or feel it at all. He feels everything, what little experience he has absently filing this under things he has no comparison with, but he thinks that, despite all that, he likes this. He really likes this, the intimate press of their bodies and the almost private enclosure around them thanks to the waterfall, and his eyes flutter shut, head tipping back to press into the fingertips in his hair. This is so... Steve doesn't have a word for it, unsure why they're here and why this suddenly seems like the best thing to do, nodding in answer to Andyr's words before pushing his hands over his shoulders and up his neck to cup his face again.

He brings their foreheads together, their noses and their mouths. A soft kiss to his lips, and he full-body shivers, more from the intensity of this intimacy than the fact there's a slight chill to the air now. ]

Okay. [ And it's said almost in mimic to Andyr's own agreement, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His own breath is hot against Andyr's skin, and Steve wants to melt into him, wants to take all the uncomplicated feelings he has for him and just sink deep in his embrace. This will make it worse, when either of them can think clearly, when he has time to realize that he'd dragged Andyr into his lap to kiss him again and again, but he doesn't consider that now. He doesn't have the desire to. ] Okay. Let me--

[ He still doesn't know what he's doing, has no clue what he's saying. It shuts him down when he gets a second grip on Andyr's hips, freezing as he draws back to look at him. When he swallows, all the words stick in his throat. ] How do you want to do that exactly? [ And the flush is already creepy up into his neck, pretty sure he could figure out an idea or two if left to his own for a few minutes longer. Yet, some part of him wants to hear Andyr say it too, and Steve bites at his lip. ]

[ yeah, okay, so he's turned on some, sue him. you just pulled him into your lap like he weighs as much as a chihuahua, steve, it was hot. not to mention the part where they've been aggressively making out, and god, andyr didn't realize how much he needed something like this. someone like steve, after the last month or so of gradually falling apart in this place, trying to fit to it, trying to mold himself back into something he'll never be again. normal, naive, innocent. he needed this break to just let himself feel worthwhile, cared for, and not so goddamn alone in everything.

he leans into every touch, eyes closed and a soft sort of hum of contentment coming from low in him. it's impossible to miss steve shivering against him, and andyr's lips pull into a smile against his. he's asking for instruction, and it's dawning on andyr that he must not have much experience with this. not that andyr really has any more, and that thought seems some kind of funny to him - that smile pulling into a wider grin, before he shakes his head, giving another careful, slow, full kiss to his lips. ]

Just this is fine. We don't have to do anything else. [ Just lips brushing together, skin warm and close, hands over arms and shoulders and chests. Doesn't have to be any more than this, and being that he's having the distinct impression that Steve' nervous about anything more, Andyr's not going to push him, or even ask for it. Hell, they're probably way past what they'd normally be comfortable with anyway. Andyr's easy to please, and this is more than enough for him. ]

Unless you want to. [ because andyr's will is weak, in the face of such sweet affection and easy pleasure. he's had so, so much of it missing in his life, and he's starved for it. he'll find himself pathetic for this, later, but right now, he makes the offer, if steve wants something more, because his self control is a joke right now. ]

[ It'd be easy to just give into the push at the back of his mind telling him to put aside those insecurities and just take. It'd be easy to loop his arm around his waist and lift him up, roll them over so that he was spread out beneath him like he's seen in, well. The twenty-first century has desensitized him to a lot of things that would have never even been whispered about in the era he'd grown up, and the flush that had slid down his neck is blossoming into his chest and heating him straight to his core at the thought of doing even a fraction of those things. The hum doesn't help, his proximity already arousing as it is, and the way he speaks is so... He fights not to shiver against him again, letting his lips part in the way they seem to want to when Andyr kisses him, and maybe he's right. They didn't have to do anything else. They didn't have to move, didn't have to leave or go urgently rushing off somewhere. They could stay like this, wrapped up together and savoring what small affections they're allowing themselves.

But that momentary thought slips in beneath the sweetness, and Steve doesn't think he wants to do that right now. Just a little longer, and the reality of it would sink them down into something other than this moment. ]

Do you want to? [ Because his hands are sliding down to rest on his thighs, the curve of his mouth against his collarbone, and Steve turns to rest his cheek against Andyr's shoulder and chest, listening for the steady rhythm of his heart and just plain soaking in everything that encompasses this person in his arms. God, he feels like a teenager again, all awkward insecurities and inexperience, and it's not as if Steve doesn't know anything. He's just not sure if this is one-hundred percent what either of them should be doing despite the fact he might actually want it. (He really, really wants it. Or so he thinks.) ] I'm good if you are. [ To do something else, letting his palms drag at Andyr's legs until he's even closer so he can press tight against him and he can feel just how true that is. ]

[SAV] IC INBOX/MAILBOX

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nnnssffffwwwwwww

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