forgodssake | ic inbox } ataraxion.

[He looks up at the significant other question, surprised, before he clarifies.]

Surprisingly, no. My apartment's too damn small. I actually have a dog here, though. Joint custody with my police partner. But Hudson is Randi's dog- my ex-girlfriend's, I mean. He's a drug dog, and we took care of him when Randi was in the hospital. He's a German Shepherd. He's staying with Wes this week.

Really?

[ Charles stops short of the million immediate friendly reactions that spring to mind, like sharing the dog biscuits he's figured out how to bake in quantity, meat slurry recipes for regular feeding, offers for dog-related play dates in the Gardens, because maybe overtures of friendship don't go hand in hand with someone you're planning to get into bed with in the next short while. He'd already pledged to himself to keep it simple.

Later. A later time. He does add; ]

Hudson's a good name, rather New York -- I'd like to meet him too, perhaps. [ He waves his door open, and immediately, a lanky black labrador is sleepily wandering out to greet him, before immediately perking up at the scent of someone new. Lincoln shoots past Charles' reaching hands to, as promised, leap up in enthusiasm, paws aiming for belly. ] Lincoln.

[He nods at the 'really?' with a smile. He thinks about offering a doggy play date himself before he thinks maybe he should wait and see how they want to continue.]

Yeah. He loves new people. Just don't kiss me in front of him. He likes to bark at lovers who aren't Randi.

[He shrugs, but then he's got a dog leaping up on him. With a grin, Travis squats down so he's more at Lincoln's level.] Hey, Lincoln. I'm Travis.

[And yep, he sure is using a goofy, smooshy voice to talk him.] What a good boy you are, yes.

[He stands then, though, not wanting to spend all his time petting Lincoln.]

He's a sweetie, [he says, addressing Charles.]

[ By the time Travis is standing, Charles is leaning a shoulder against the wall, watching with the kind of satisfied-ly charmed expression of, you know, attractive Americans being nice to your pet. It's a specific phenomena, but notable. ]

Born and bred on the Tranquility. It's a little easier for him, I expect, jumps and things, people coming and going.

[ He whistles, sharp, snagging the labrador's attention. ]

I'll get him settled -- make yourself at home, as you like. Liquor's on the dresser.

[ Charles heads off to install the dog a few doors down, Lincoln obediently dogging his heel.

These places are hard to decorate. Nonetheless, Charles' room of level fourteen, number one hundred, feels lived in. The Dewar's bottle is where he said, next to a few empty glasses lined up nearby for occasions such as these. Around the place are a couple of actual facts books, some paper notes, a few clothes tossed on the second unoccupied bed. An ashtray on the nearest bed stand. Not strict and tidy, but not overly messy either. ]

[He wanders in, looking around a bit. He doesn't touch anything, just glances at the books before retrieving the liquor and a couple of the glasses.

He sits at the table in his room and pours them both a little, sliding the other cup to the other side of the table. He's currently wondering just how smart Charles is. He seems really smart. Travis isn't a dumbie; he's got a high IQ. But he's betting Charles is, like, a genius or something.]

[ It takes a couple of minutes. Charles has a few dog-related things stashed away, so he isn't leaving his labrador in a random room for the sake of a hook up -- a bowl is filled, water supplied, a few dedicated ear scratches, before he returns.

The doors slides shut behind him, moving around behind Travis, letting his fingertips brush over the horizon of the other man's shoulders as he goes. Intimacy re-established, however lightly. ]

Cheers.

[ That hand reaches for glass, collecting it up as he goes to sit. ]

Now that I've cornered you, I don't mind saying it's been some time since I've done anything like this, [ is said over the top of glass. Factual, as opposed to emotive. His nerves are his own business. ]

[He takes a swallow of his drink before replying.] Not a problem.

[He slips out of his jacket, letting it fall against the back of the chair, before pushing up his sleeves and standing up, going over to Charles. This time, it's Travis behind him, fingers lightly following the curve of his neck into his shoulder, and resting there. He presses a kiss to his neck, then leans up to murmur-] Mind if I move things a little faster?

[Travis was never one for patience.]

[ The pads of Charles' fingers tap against the glass as Travis circles around to settle, the glance chasing after freeing up space for the other man to lean in. Careful not to knock his head back, he polishes off a stiff sip of liquor, letting the glass dangle loose in hand. ]

I like fast.

[ Murmur is met with his own voice pitched quieter, huskier as a result. It's in Charles' nature to immediate do things, to impose himself on interaction and wrangle control, but he pauses, this time, to let Travis find a pace. ]

Good.

[Travis keeps his hands on him, but moves so he's at Charles' side. It's then, without warning, but in a gentle fashion so as not to scare the crap out of him, that he moves Charles in the chair about ninety degrees. Charles might have seen the idea forming in his head, and so it's probably no surprise when Travis puts a hand on each arm rest, leaning over him.

With a smirk, he captures the other man's lips. Travis is all about spontaneity and fun in bed, surprisingly not fussy about control. But the kiss isn't long because the position is good for what he wants to do, and so he's slipping to his knees, his hands reaching up to unbutton his shirt quickly and efficiently. He's good at getting people out of clothes. Once the buttons are all undone, he runs his hands across his bare chest, looking up with his blue eyes.] Fast still good?

[Because Travis is gonna be that fast with his slacks, and in fact, his hands are already there, hesitating at the button.]

[ Fast works out well. ]

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