Chill Out [Closed]

[control_freak]

Who: Foster and Taako
When: Day 142
Where: Trailer 18
What: Foster and Taako talk without there being some kind of fucking crisis.
Warnings: This may get NSFW.



Foster doesn't even pause to turn on the light when they reach his trailer, let alone make sure the door stays open--he collapses directly onto the tangled, bloodstained sheets of what is obviously his bed and rolls onto his back, one hairy arm draped over his eyes.

If Taako wants a second to look around, he has it, but there's not much to see. Trailer 18 is... weirdly empty. It's furnished, obviously, but other than the single unmade bed, there's nothing in it.

The walls are bare, the tables are empty, the other bed is made and untouched.

"Wherever," Foster says, which means... well, it means Taako can put himself wherever.

Comments

[control_freak]

Foster isn't sure how he feels about it either. Or rather, how he 'feels' about it. The truth is, he has no idea how to be 'sincere.'

Honest, yes--he is often extremely honest, generally to the detriment of most social norms, except when by very deliberate choice.

But sincerity?

Sincerity is... something else. It's 'heartfelt.' Foster's never achieved anything heartfelt in his life, except when assisted by conviction.

There is no conviction to thanking someone.

It's just... uncomfortable.

Well. That's one mistake he probably won't make again.

[tacosgay]

The awkward silence almost makes Taako laugh, once it's had plenty of time to sink in; he rolls his eyes at the both of them, and then relaxes his posture a bit, lounging back against the mattress on his palms.

"That's a good look for you," he muses, a catlike smile on his face as he watches Foster, painted eyelids hanging heavy. "I guess the carnival figured it was time you grew your hair out some, huh? Maybe it's a sign you need to chill out a little, take some time and just relax, let your hair down."

His smile lights up just a bit, amused at his own incoming joke: "But, you know, not literally, because seriously, you look kinda adorable."

[control_freak]

Foster almost laughs--compulsively, not out of any real sense of humour--but Taako's last sentence prevents that by causing a very different sort of reaction.

His response is instead paired with a laugh that is humourous for all the wrong reasons.

"You can't dress up garbage."

[tacosgay]

"Au contraire, my good friend," Taako begins, fluttering his painted lashes at Foster almost pointedly; and then he sits up with a grin, going so far as to lean in more closely. "I do believe I just did."

[criticallyfucked]

Foster's face goes through some interesting contortions as he struggles to react--no, to contain his reaction to that, for the first time in...

...in a very long time, he has that in him, the knowledge that something might be contained, whether or not it could or even should be. The question of whether or not it should happen is too complex for him, though, and it slips--but by that point, the moment is lost and while he makes a nasty face, he doesn't argue explicitly.

He does, however, pull his claws away from his wound, spreading them to display hooked tips covered in bright blood and dark scabbing.

Au contraire yourself, probably.

[tacosgay]

Taako screws his face up at the sight of those bloodied claws, but he doesn't complain-- not out loud, anyway. He knows how pointless it is, by now-- if Foster's previous spiel about blood and pain and all that proved nothing else, besides the fact that the man is certifiably insane, it's that he isn't interested getting medical attention.

Oh well. He really is cute with his hair pulled up like that. At least, when he's not making those faces or drooling all over himself.

Taako considers for a moment that he might need to reassess his taste.

"I'm just gonna count that one as a victory for Taako," he says finally, standing and straightening his skirt idly.

[criticallyfucked]

Foster deadeyes him for a second, but doesn't argue--which is effectively the same as a win, at least with Foster. He breaks eye contact after a second, sticking the ends of his claws in his mouth somewhat absently--the taste of blood, his blood is disgusting and soothing and loathsome and...

...ah.

"Well. If you're done here, you can go any time. Or not--" He waves the bloodied paw airily, red goo still speckling his claws and clumping the blond fur. "It is late. But the bed is right there. Free free to use it--or this one, or just me--in any way you wish!"

[tacosgay]

Taako begins to speak before the entire offer has processed, which is incredibly clear in his response: "Uh, I appreciate it and all, buwhat, hold on a second, excuse me?"

He stares at Foster for a beat, eyes wide and ears at attention.

[criticallyfucked]

"It's up to you," Foster replies lightly--at least superficially. But there's a weightiness to it that suggests that even if it is, as he says, up to Taako... the wrong answer will be counted as a failure on his part, and he will be judged accordingly.

[tacosgay]

"I-- okay, hold on a second," Taako repeats, this time a bit more slowly, and he holds up his hands almost defensively, as if he has to physically stop Foster from continuing this train of thought before he can sort it all out. "I just-- before I fuckin' answer this, I wanna make sure, but are you inviting me to fuckin'... sleep with you? Like, in the Biblical sense?"

[criticallyfucked]

Foster isn't interested in continuing--this is about Taako's answer, Taako's desires, not his own. Which is why the elf's request for clarity earns a somewhat chilly lack of response. Foster regards the tips of his claws indifferently; his eyes are gently lidded, only partway, but the look itself... is not especially charitable.

Questioning it, apparently, is not part of the right answer.

[tacosgay]

"... I'm... gonna take that as a yes. Which... okay, uh, first off, kinda sudden? I mean, not that I'm not at all into it, but like..." He babbles for a second, a bit nervously; it's odd, almost unnatural, seeing him so awkward. Taako pauses, taking a breath, and then looks Foster over; he tilts his head a bit.

"... okay. You know what? Sure, let's party, why not. YOLO and all that. But, uh, can I make a request here first?" He points, indicating the wound at Foster's side. "Could you get that patched up, at least, so you're not bleeding all over me the whole time? I know you're probably super into that idea, but I'm... not."

[criticallyfucked]

Mmmm.

On the one hand, Taako appears to have grasped the basic idea: he wants sex, and Foster's body is available to him. On the other, he's failed to really seize the opportunity--or, less probably but more generously, is hedging his bets--by framing his conditions as a request rather than what they are.

Foster isn't feeling very generous.

Even if he were, that... is an impossible request to fulfill!

"Ah... well, that's... I can't! I'm not a fan of doctors." His claws go for his hairline, reflexively, but stop just millimetres in--it's because of the hair clip, but given the few wet scabs still his claws, it's probably better. Not that he notices. Instead, he traces one claw along the outline at the base of one bovine ear, leaning forward already with bright eyes.

"Because I'm scared of them. Haha... pathetic, right? I guess I'm just a coward! So, I can't really obey that order. Sorry!"

[tacosgay]

"... ah." Taako inclines his head, pressing his thumb at his lip as he thinks that over. "... yeah, that explains a lot. Okay, how about this: would you let me fuckin'... stick some gauze over it or something, at least?"

He has no idea if they even have any of that sitting around the trailer, but, if not, he can transmute some up from a fucking washcloth or something, so at least there's that. His magic's come in handy for increasingly mundane things since he moved in with Foster, which is honestly a little bit amusing.

[criticallyfucked]

Foster is jolted into laughing.

Not at the request to put gauze over the wound, but 'yeah, that explains a lot' is the funniest thing he's heard in... well, at least a few minutes. It's not even actually funny--

Which might be why it's easy enough to stop, once the initial, irrational impulse had passed.

"Oh, just gauze and tape--? That's fine."

He stops for just a second and makes eye contact with the elf.

"Whatever you want."

What Taako just doesn't get is that short of trying to convince Foster to a doctor, he could do absolutely anything to Foster. And, indeed, would be encouraged to.

[tacosgay]

"... okay, can I ask you a real question, though, real quick before we get started on this whole... thing?"

Taako heads to their little trailer bathroom to get something to transmute into some medical supplies; he has no idea how sanitary shit he makes through transmutation is, but he realizes pretty quickly that Foster definitely doesn't care, and anything will be better than the nothing he's got now. So he whips up a thick gauze pad, and retrieves some normal washcloths to clean the wound with a little before he applies the gauze. He also summons up some tape-- the kind they have in first aid kits, so they don't have to use packing tape or something to stick it on.

He pokes his head back out of the bathroom as he runs some water to dampen the cloths, frowning.

"You're not gonna fucking kill me or something during the act, are you? Like... this isn't some kind of weird trap, right?"

[criticallyfucked]

Foster is.... not surprised, exactly, but goes silent, looking Taako up and down in speculative manner.

It's not that the idea isn't appealing--it's extraordinary, magnificent, exquisite and on another day, might even be tempting, just by its concept alone--but he's been looking for someone to properly use him, not for a way to rack up a body count.

He's not going to back out of that now.

Still, he responds in what is probably the least reassuring manner possible.

"Do you want me to?"

[tacosgay]

"I'm... gonna have to say no, but I appreciate the offer, there, my man," comes Taako's very clearly not at all reassured response. He steps out of the little bathroom, supplies in tow, and he looks over at Foster's bed and its questionable sheets.

"... euhhhh. Can we... do this thing over on the other bed here, maybe?"