A Fateful Hotel Room (Adult)

Trevor Dunne: so did you wnat to play a backdated scene?

Micah Carrington: Sure!

Trevor Dunne: okay, late the night of the 27th, early am of the 28th Micah gets a text from Trev::

Micah Carrington: ((June 28th?))

Micah Carrington: ((July rather?)

Trevor Dunne: (yes, July 28ht, a few days after Micah and kids get into town) txt:10-81. 82 4 me. then 10-87 (followed by a hotel and room #) (and Micah would have been trained in the following 10 codes (with the additions that Trev adds for various codes: http://www.wodnyc.net/archives/10-codes.htm )

Trevor Dunne: txt: gt Aerin 2 hlp

Micah Carrington: TX: 10-2 ((Ravyn's not online so no Aerin...If we're gonna go with that IC then 10-87 not poss))

Micah Carrington: ((10-4 rather. *chuckle* Didn't see that at first))

Trevor Dunne: (well we can always play up to the point Aerin meets them there. *g)

Micah Carrington: ((A'ight! UGH! *LOL* I mangled the code. *headdesk* Micah'd ok it all and then go get/meet Trev at said hotel room))

Trevor Dunne: (np, basically Trev's saying "I'm drunk. get me a room or safehouse, then come pick me up here")

Trevor Dunne: (and then he realizes Micah's not strong enough to help him by himself so tells him to get Aerin to help to. *G*)

Micah Carrington: ((sorry 9 hours at work. *grins* I'll improve... And Okies!)) Micah gets the necessary hotel room then goes and picks up Trev, waiting in the idling car and texting him a quick: here.

Trevor Dunne: it takes a while, then txt: cmgat me

Micah Carrington: He parks quickly. Txt: Where?'

Trevor Dunne: he texts the room number again

Micah Carrington: Micah groans and slips from the car, shaking his head slowly. alexi is proving to be a bit of an unpleasant head spin for the kin. It takes him a minute or so but then he's knocking on the door.

Trevor Dunne: It takes almost two minutes for the door to open, and even then the knob is turned and pulled just enough for Micah to grab it before it latches shut again.

Micah Carrington: He catches it quickly and slips sideways into the hotel room, closing and locking the door behind him before taking a good look around. ((Per+Alert->Micah: 6,9,8,4,))

Trevor Dunne: Micah finds himself almost tripping over Trev as he steps inside. Trev's sitting with his back against the wall in the small entry hall, within arm's reach of the door knob. He's got a gun in his hand, but the safety's still on, and he doesn't look capable of actually pointing it at anybody, judging from the dopey look on his face.

Micah Carrington: He slips into a graceful crouch and reaches, slowly, for the gun with one hand, as the other hand touches Trevor's cheek lightly. "Sir?"

Trevor Dunne: "Micah," he says, looking at him with eyes that are not quite...right. Pupils too dialated. He doesn't smell drunk, either.

Trevor Dunne: He smiles at him, blinking at him. From the way his clothes are mussed, it looks like he crawled to the door.

Micah Carrington: "What were you hit with," he asks softly, fingertips lingering briefly on Trev's cheek before he takes the gun and double check's the safety, tucking it into the snug jeans at the small of his back.

Trevor Dunne: "Thhhhiopentaaallll," he says cheerily, then snickers.

Trevor Dunne: (roll int+invest)

Micah Carrington: ((Micah: 5,9,1,))

Trevor Dunne: He doesn't know what that is. *G*

Micah Carrington: "Ah huh. And did you do this to yourself," he asks gently, raven brow arching as he tries to get himself beneath one of Trev's arms. "C'mon, Sir. Lets get you up and onto the bed."

Trevor Dunne: "No." He waves Micah off. "Not to myself."

Micah Carrington: "Well, that's a bonus," he says, stepping back as he's waved off.

Trevor Dunne: "Tdink tdere's a bit of mor...feeeennnnnnnnnn init also." He chuckles. "Like I needed tdat."

Micah Carrington: "Nice." He sighs and crouches, back to the opposite wall, his hands dangling between his knees. "So um, who did it?"

Trevor Dunne: He gives another sloppy wave. "Duzzin matter. Need to geddout before tdey come back. Or someone else comezalong."

Micah Carrington: "And we're needing to wait for Aerin for that. I'm no where near strong enough, Sir." a pause. "So, other then stoned off your ass, how are you feeling?"

Trevor Dunne: "Good. You?"

Micah Carrington: "If Alexi pinches my ass one more time, I'm going to find a way to rip his penis off," he says with a disgusted smirk.

Trevor Dunne: He snorts. "Easy enough. Drug 'em en do a Bobbit."

Micah Carrington: "Yeah, but as he belongs to you...I'm not quite up for that kind of trouble."

Trevor Dunne: He snickers again. "I'll punish 'm fer yeh."

Micah Carrington: "He'd probably like that. I've missed you."

Trevor Dunne: "Nobody likes my punishmens. Mets. Mentsss. "

Micah Carrington: "I do."

Trevor Dunne: He smiles at that. "You like having undergone tdem. Not when you're getting tdem."

Micah Carrington: "No...You never noticed the hard on when you're beating the shit out of me," he asks with a snorting laugh.

Trevor Dunne: "Just because you're hart doesn't mean you enjoy 't." he argues.

Micah Carrington: "I'm not...submissive, not really, not in the way say, Malc is...I'm a masochist. I get off on pain." He shrugs eloquently. "I like when you beat me because it feels good...and because its you doing it."

Trevor Dunne: "Micah, I know. Don' tell me what I know."

Micah Carrington: "Just making sure you understand that I DO enjoy it. Its not just because I think I deserve it, though I'll admit that there are moments."

Trevor Dunne: "No, you don't enjoy de punishhhhmet. Yer cock got droopy dere when de real punishhhmend. Mentttt. Happent."

Micah Carrington: "Oh?"

Trevor Dunne: "Fuggin morfeeen makes meh dongue tdick."

Micah Carrington: He chuckles softly and flicks his tongue across his bottom lip. "It does, yeah."

Trevor Dunne: He laughs.

Micah Carrington: "its good to hear you laugh, even if the reason for said laughter sucks ass, Trev'."

Trevor Dunne: "What sugs ass?"

Micah Carrington: "Your being stoned off your ass. Me," he adds as an afterthought.

Trevor Dunne: "Whyzit so bad I'm stoned?" he asks, curious. "En we botd know dat," he adds to Micah's afterthought.

Micah Carrington: "Yeah, but you don't know how good I am it..." He groans and thumps his head into the wall. After a brief pause during which he visciously and almost silently berates himself he turns his eyes back to Trevor. "Because its a liability. Because, if we were attacked, you'd be useless."

Trevor Dunne: "Oh." He closes his eyes, nodding. He swallows, resting his head back against the wall for a bit, then shrugs and grins at him. "Den you'll have ta pertect botd uvus," he says simply.

Micah Carrington: "I'll do my best," he agrees, nodding. "Any clue how much you got and when it should wear off?"

Trevor Dunne: "Mnnnn. No. Never done 'm botd togedder."

Micah Carrington: "But you've done them seperately," he asks, rolling fluidly upright.

Trevor Dunne: "Morefeen," he nods, with a dreamy grin. He pulls his shirt up to reveal one of several scars. "Fuggin' leperman clawt me up goot."

Micah Carrington: He leans down and traces the scar with a gentle fingertip, eyes flicking from it to Trevor's face. "I've never...luckily...done drugs."

Trevor Dunne: He traces the clawmarks across his belly, intersecting the treasure trail of blond hairs that move from his navel to disappear under his beltline. His belt isn't buckled properly, and his pants are unzipped.

Micah Carrington: "Any reason why you're half undressed," he asks, shifting his weight so that he's standing, straddled, over the other's legs as he bends to carefully do up Trevor's zipper. He frowns, just slightly as he notes the fine tremor in his hands.

Trevor Dunne: "Had thhhhiopental in training. Teh zee de effecks."

Micah Carrington: "Which are?"

Trevor Dunne: "Trutd serummmmmm...." He laughs at the buzz in his lips at the 'm' sound.

Micah Carrington: "So you've had a narcotic pain killer and a truth serum...No clue what that'll do to you." He sighs and drops into a lower crouch to do up the belt, hand brushing against the other's groin, briefly as he snugs it tight.

Trevor Dunne: He snickers at that, and Micah can feel quite a hefty package down there. "You wanna sug it," he says, stating the obvious.

Micah Carrington: "Gee, what gave that away? The fact that I've been infatuated with you since you put me on your payroll," he asks, lifting his eyes to Trevor's, brow arching as he braces a hand against the other's abs to keep his balance.

Trevor Dunne: When Micah meets his gaze he seems to slowly sober up--or at least grow serious, as if sensing something's happening here that might be a problem. He frowns. "Djeh wanna leave? Ged Jermeh ta loog after me?"

Micah Carrington: "I'm fine," he says, fingers playing against the other's stomach briefly before he stands and steps across, turning his back on Trevor as he adjusts himself with a sigh. "Do you want me to leave?"

Trevor Dunne: His eyes get wide as Micah plays his fingers across his abs, and he swallows hard, closing his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. If Micah bothers to look, he'll see that package getting bigger. He doesn't answer the question.

Micah Carrington: He glances over his shoulder at Trevor, brow arching slowly as he turns back and slides to his knees. "Trev'," he asks softly, slim, soft fingers brushing across the other's jaw. "Do-do you want me to leave?"

Trevor Dunne: His jaw pulls in toward his throat, his brows furrowing, his cheeks growing taut. He keeps his eyes closed, scewing them shut a little tighter, his shoulders creeping up toward his ears into a defensive posture.

Micah Carrington: Micah's hand drops instantly and he scrunches his lean frame, making himself smaller and lower then the other, head bowing. "I'm sorry...."

Trevor Dunne: He keeps his eyes closed, looking as if he's waiting for Micah to lay into him with a whip or belt, cheeks flushed, expression filled with shame. His pants strain even further as his cock engorges.

Micah Carrington: "No..." He shakes his head furiously, recognizing the other's posture having done it himself so many times lately. "Sir?"

Trevor Dunne: He remains frozen, breathing carefully controlled, as if unsure what's going on, and not wanting to risk a beating.

Micah Carrington: The kin whimpers softly and stands, walking across the room to lay the gun and then his belt, on the desk before returning to Trevor, moving carefully and slowly. "Trevor...Look at me."

Trevor Dunne: His jaw sets, his brow furrowed, shame slowly melting into a sort of desperate, burning defiance, as his eyes open and he looks up toward Micah, something very childlike about the rage burning his eyes.

Micah Carrington: "Its July 28, 2005. My name is Micah Carrington and I belong to you," he says softly, fingers moving to slowly unbutton his shirt. He tosses it to the floor and his boots, jeans and boxers follow just as slowly before he sinks to his knees, spreading them wide, his hands clasped behind his back.

Trevor Dunne: The flare of rage subsides into confusion, his cheeks twitching as he watches Micah disrobe. "July 28..." he repeats, as if trying to figure out what that means, his breath quickening as Micah adopts the slave position. "Holy fuck..."

Micah Carrington: "2005," he repeates softly, his eyes dropping to the floor though his back is ramrod straight. Slowly, his slim sex stirs to life, body quickening with memories of the last time he'd been like this. "I belong to you. You own me."

Trevor Dunne: "No," he shakes his head, a look of self loathing coming over his face. "Put yer fuggin' clothes on, I'm not a pedo."

Micah Carrington: "I'm not a kid," he says softly, lifting his eyes. "I'm nineteen."

Trevor Dunne: "I'm not a pedo," he repeats more vehemently.

Micah Carrington: His eyes flash and he rises slowly, languidly, to his feet. "And like I said. I'm not a kid. What year is it, Trevor?"

Trevor Dunne: "I'm not a lootee, either," he says, looking away from Micah as he approaches, staring at the back of the door.

Micah Carrington: "What year is it," he repeats, voice tightening as he stops within easy reach of the other.

Trevor Dunne: "It's two duizend five."

Micah Carrington: "Look at me," he says with a sigh though his voice remains tight. "Who are you?"

Trevor Dunne: "Trevor Urbanus Dunne. "

Micah Carrington: "Urbanus, huh?" He slips into another graceful crouch, angling his body so that the other need see nothing he may not want to. "Who am I in relation to you?"

Trevor Dunne: "You're Micah. I look after you."

Micah Carrington: "well, we're getting somewhere. Good...Are you okay," he asks, hand brushing Trev's shoulder briefly.

Trevor Dunne: This close, it's hard to miss the signs of arousal in Trev, the hard nipples under the turtleneck (which, btw, is Faustos' as are the cargo pants). The bulge in the pants, the flush to the face, the quickened breathing. "I'm fuggin' drugged," comes the grouchy answer, as he looks away when Micah touches him.

Micah Carrington: "No shit." He sighs. "You're also aroused and pissy," he says, dropping the hand on Trev's shoulder to his groin, shaping him through the cargo pants with an easy, deliberate touch, the kin tired of beign nice.

Trevor Dunne: His face darkens, reddening further as the shame creeps up his cheeks, his lips pulling into a thin line as he continues to look at the door. His cock jumps a bit under Micah's touch. He doesn't move to stop him. Or perhaps he knows how futile it would be, given how uncoordinated he is at the moment.

Micah Carrington: Micah slowly pulls the zipper he'd so recently pulled up back down then begins to work, one handed on Trevor's belt. "This doesn't have to be an ugly thing...That you want me...that your body is responding," he breathes, sliding a hand inside to curl and stroke the other's sex skin to skin.

Trevor Dunne: He draws in a quick breath, tensing at Micah's touch on him. The heat from him burns against Micah's palm, the tight, wirey curls of his pubes a bit scratchy around the edges. He's rather thick, and longer than average, curving off down the left pantleg, twitching a bit as flesh touches flesh. He continues to stare at the door, jaw pulsing.

Micah Carrington: Swallowing softly, Micah slips down to lay on his side, legs curled down past Trevor's. His hand gently and slowly, works the other free. "Goddess..." He breathes the word in awe, breath ghosting over the head. "You want this...so why are you fighting?"

Trevor Dunne: "I'm not a lootee," he repeats, a bit of despair coloring his eyes.

Micah Carrington: "No. YOu're not gay," he agrees gently. "But I'm not exactly...masculine either," he whispers, sliding his mouth very slowly over the thickness.

Trevor Dunne: He gasps as Micah takes him in, and Micah can feel that thrumming shifting of fluid that cause him to twitch and throb against the tongue.

Micah Carrington: Moaning, he curls a slim hand around the base and begins to stroke in time to the slow bobbing of his head. Now and then his hand twists and then, suddenly it slips away as Micah forces himself down onto the other, gagging with it.

Trevor Dunne: His gasps turn into moans, and then into a gutteral, almost angry growl as Micah deep throats him. Some switch seems to have been thrown on him and his hands hold Micah there, filling him up, cutting his air off with the big flesh hosepipe down his throat. "Is tdat what you want, cunt?" He says viciously.

Micah Carrington: He gags and rolls his eyes, sidelong to Trevor's face, fear filling them and sadness. A slim hand pushes between the other's legs to grab at his testes, rolling them hard together.

Trevor Dunne: Slam's Micah upside the head, hard enough to ring his bell. "Don't get smard wit me, poesje, yeh wanted teh sug it."

Micah Carrington: He groans around the mouthful, eyes fluttering as he curls one hand in Trevor's shirt. The slim throat works, swallowing and pushing or maybe he's trying to say something...Hard to tell. All Micah knows is that its starting to hurt and black dots are beginning to dance at the edges of his vision.

Trevor Dunne: He pulls Micah off, giving him just enough air to keep him from passing out before shoving hiim back on.

Micah Carrington: He struggles, the hand in Trev's shirt twisting hard as he tries to alter the depth by forcing a hand around the base of the thick cock. "Nnnfff!"

Trevor Dunne: "No teetd, poes, yeh know how I like 't."

Micah Carrington: He tries to shake the hand holding his head long enough to reestablish a deliberate, practiced rhythm, trying to sooth the other by truly giving his all.

Trevor Dunne: He keeps his hands on either side of Micah's head, controlling him, making him go deep, then all the way out then down again, keeping control of how much air Micah breaths, keeping him on that oxygen-deprived buzz. "Goot, good, sug m'n woers, punkie."

Micah Carrington: Finally, his body shudders softly and he relaxes into it, dropping his hands to either side of Trevor's hips as he lifts his slim, graceful body from the floor. Micah swallows and moans hard as Trev' forces his cock down his throat, his body shuddering softly. The kin suckles softly on each upward pull, using the moment to draw a ragged breath through his nose, tongue dancing along the head and the thick, sensitive ridge downt he bottom.

Trevor Dunne: He growls, hips thrusting up, getting a bit rougher as he nears climax, fingers digging into Micah's scalp, twisting in his hair.

Micah Carrington: He cries out around the other, breath vibrating against the straining organ as he resists the urge to alter his technique, no matter how badly a part of him wanted this to go on...Ending it, he knew, was likely for the best.

Trevor Dunne: The vibration sends him over the edge and he lodges himself deep into Micah's throat, exploding into him, one hand moving down to the boy's throat, to feel himself there, utterly controlling him.

Micah Carrington: He swallows as best he can, green eyes rolling up to Trevor's face as he feels that heat spill down his throat.

Trevor Dunne: No need to swallow, as he's deep past his gag reflex, but the attempt feels good as the throat muscles spasm futilely around him. His gaze is intense, focused, and not entirely...there, as he stares down at the boy on his cock, looking for the sighs that he's about to lose consciousness via lack of air.

Micah Carrington: His pale skin is ashing slightly, eyes widening as his body spasms, struggling suddenly and almost violently with the need to breath. The almost adoring green eyes beg the other.

Trevor Dunne: He pulls him off and pushes him away, closing his eyes and rolling his head back, shuddering with the last few shivers of release.

Micah Carrington: Coughing, Micah draws breath, after raggedly, painful breath into his lungs, his body supine on the carpeting, pale skin flushing faintly pink with the return of oxygen to his system.

Trevor Dunne: His cock falls semi-erect across his left thigh, glistening with Micah's saliva, and the last few drops of semen. His head remains back, throat exposed, eyes closed, drawing in deep breaths. There's a look of deep shame and self loathing on his face.

Micah Carrington: Finally, able to breath, micah pushes to his feet, one hand going to his throat in an attempt to ease the pain. "Do you know why its..."He pauses to swallow painfully. "So disgusting to you, trev," he asks, moving to pick up his clothes and slip slowly into them. "Because you make it ugly..."

Trevor Dunne: Micahs words seem to work themselves down from Trevor's head down through his body, a slow process that starts with a wince, cheeks going taut, eyes screwed further shut. His mouth closes as his jaws clench, and then something seems to settle down his throat, a heavy weight pressing his shoulders down, deflating his lungs with despair, his hips and thighs going slack, cock shriveling.

Micah Carrington: "I shouldn't have touched you like that," he murmurs, buttoning his shirt with shaking fingers. "But...i just...I wanted to make love to you. To show you how I felt...To show you that its okay that you respond to me like that." He snorts in self-disgust and moves to the desk to grab his belt, slipping it slowly through the loops, his eyes on his reflection in the large mirror above. "You wanted me..."

Trevor Dunne: He fumbles his cock into his pants, eyes still closed, head still back against the wall, throat exposed over the rolled collar of the turtle neck.

Micah Carrington: "I'm sorry," he adds, picking up the gun and double checking the safety. Sighing, he moves back to Trevor's side and extends the weapon, butt first.

Trevor Dunne: With his eyes closed, he doesn't see the gun extended, but his practiced hearing can tell Micah's handling a weapon, and he can hear Micah's clothing as he extends his arm. But he apparently misinterprets exactly what Micah's doing. "If you're going to shoot me, you should aim from de voorhead down toward de spine, take out all de vital brain functions, stop de heart before it bleeds too much on de carpet."

Micah Carrington: "Fuckwad," he mutters. "I love you, why the hell would I shoot you," he asks, setting the gun carefully on Trevor's thigh.

Trevor Dunne: His eyes open as he feels the weight on his thigh, He swallows hard, and looks down at it with a miserable expression.

Micah Carrington: Micah sighs and crouches down. "Stop. Okay? I wanted you...Just not quite like that. I'm gonna have Aerin come...but for now I'm going home. You need to deal with your feelings. For me. For Aerin...For guys in general and get rid of the guilt."

Trevor Dunne: (you getting offline? Or did you want to go to stealth and have Rav show up?)

Micah Carrington: ((I gotta head to bed so Micah plans on leaving unless Trev would make hims tay.))

Trevor Dunne: (ok then we'll have him leave)

Micah Carrington: ((Sorry...:-) ))

Trevor Dunne: "I don' like men," he says, voice dull, expression utterly hollow.

Micah Carrington: "Okay." He sighs saddly. "I love you, Trevor."

Trevor Dunne: "Yes, Va," he says, nodding.

Micah Carrington: "No. Not Va! Micah!" He frowns. "Fuck...Its 2005, Trev. You own me and I love you. Cope." He flicks the lock, opens the door and exits, trying for grace.

Trevor Dunne: The door swings shut behind him and latches with an eerie finality.

Aerin Thomas: So he shows up in about the amount of time it takes to travel from the Lower East Side to the hotel in question, dressed in the usual get-up. Eyes are alert, looking around the outside of the hotel in his own paranoid way ((Per+Alert: : 5,2,4,8,3,5,)) before he heads up to the hotel room and knocks.

Trevor Dunne: He doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

Aerin Thomas: So it's a knock knock on the door, and he waits.

Trevor Dunne: Nobody opens the door for several minutes.

Aerin Thomas: A frown, he checks the text message...yep, he's got the right room. He knocks once more, waits about 10 seconds, then checks the door handle.

Trevor Dunne: (and sorry I'mm a bit slow hunny just came home from work)

Aerin Thomas: ((NP))

Trevor Dunne: The door's locked. But about thirty seconds later the handle turns and the door scrapes open.

Aerin Thomas: He waits patentily, but ready, for whatever's on the other side. A little tense...this is not normal activity for Xu meetings.

Trevor Dunne: It's released after a few inches, and unless Jer grabs it before it latches, it'll shut again.

Aerin Thomas: He reaches out to stop it as it looks like it's shutting, and pushes the door open, peering around the room as he does.

Trevor Dunne: Trev's sitting on the floor, back to the wall, legs extended across the short hallway into the room. He's within arm's reach of the door, but his head is back, his eyes closed. A pistol is in his lap, a trail of the little bar bottles leading from the wetbar to his spot on the floor.

Aerin Thomas: He blinks, and moves into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Xu. What's up?"

Trevor Dunne: Empty little bar bottles.

Trevor Dunne: His eyes open, and he looks miserably at Aerin, frowning as he studies him. His pupils are rather large, not something that normally happens with alcohol. He shakes his head and glances away from him, a look of deep shame on his face.

Trevor Dunne: (roll per+alert)

Aerin Thomas: : 7,2,5,5,4,9,

Trevor Dunne: (and per+emp)

Aerin Thomas: : 2,5,8,8,9,5,6,

Trevor Dunne: His belt is unbuckled, his fly unzipped. He stoned--more than just alcohol but there's some drug involved, as well. He's utterly ashamed of the fact that he's becoming aroused by Aerin's presence. He may or may not be dissociating.

Aerin Thomas: He frowns a little, taking moving to a chair nearby, but not too close to the man. "Xu...what date is it?"

Trevor Dunne: He takes a few moments to consider before answering "July twendieitd. Two duizend fayf."

Aerin Thomas: ((Per+Subt to see if he believes it: : 7,3,6,10,4,7,4, Reroll: : 3,))

Aerin Thomas: ((As in, to see if Trevor believes what he's saying. :-P))

Trevor Dunne: (yes, he believes it. yes he appears to be incapable of much dissembling at the moment, judging from the absolute horrible job he's doing of hiding how aroused he's becoming. yes, he appears to be utterly miserable, and seems to have drunk what he can in an attempt to obtain some sort of oblivion)

Aerin Thomas: A slight nod. "All right. So what's happened, Xu?"

Trevor Dunne: He shakes his head. "Drunk. Needa ride somewhere. Sleep 't off."

Aerin Thomas: He looks around the hotel room, frowning a moment, and looks back to him. There's no way the man can walk in this state. Still, go along with it for now. "All right. Somewhere besides here, then? Where to?"

Trevor Dunne: He shakes his head. "Duzzin matter. G'head en leave. Duzzin matter."

Trevor Dunne: (oh yeah, Jer would note that there is a briefcase on the coffee table in the main part of the suite, and it's open and filled with all of Trev's weapons save for the gun on his thighs)

Aerin Thomas: He sighs a bit, almost sadly. "I'm not going anywhere, Xu. What's going on...and how can I help you?"

Trevor Dunne: "Just...uhm..." He seems to nod off, going quiet for about 20 seconds, then says with a bit of a hoarseness in his throat. "Bring de otder nine over. I'll be fine."

Aerin Thomas: He looks over at the briefcase, then back. "Something coming for you that you need two guns for?"

Trevor Dunne: "Need silver." He lifts the one on his lap. "Dis won't do 't."

Aerin Thomas: Okay, now he's SO not leaving. "For the Silver Fangs coming for you? Or something else?"

Trevor Dunne: He shrugs. "If dey come, dey come."

Aerin Thomas: He leans forward in the chair, sighing. "Xu, you didn't call me down here to get your gun for you. What's going on?"

Trevor Dunne: "I daught 't best to leave b'fore someone comes after me, bud now duzzin matter. Yeh can go. I'll be fine. Know what teh do."

Aerin Thomas: "Why doesn't it matter now?" He shakes out a cigarette from the pack he pulls from his pocket, putting it between his lips as he holds the pack out for Trevor.

Trevor Dunne: He doesn't see the offered smokes, since he's doing his best to keep his eyes closed and his gaze averted from Aerin. "Duzzin. Just duzzin. Sorry for yeh makin' de trip."

Aerin Thomas: "I don't mind, Xu. I don't mind coming out here. Would you like a cigarette? I know when I'm drinking, smoking's a must."

Trevor Dunne: "Been tryin' teh quit," he says wryly, a sad smile pulling at his mouth.

Trevor Dunne: He opens his eyes and looks over at Jer and the offered pack. He winces and does his best to reach for it without falling on his face. Barely manages to take the pack.

Aerin Thomas: He lets it go once Trevor has it, lighting his own cigarette, then handing the lighter over.

Trevor Dunne: He doesn't quite manage to get the lighter, and it fumbles through his fingers to the carpet. He tries to catch it and loses his balance, slumping off onto his side on the floor.

Aerin Thomas: Pursed lips, and he slides out of the chair, moving to set the other man upright.

Trevor Dunne: He winces as the edges of the bottles he's left on the carpet dig into his ribcage and hip. The gun slides off his lap onto the floorm

Trevor Dunne: His eyes get very wide, and he looks almost panicked as Jer lifts him upright, staring into his face as if expecting some horrible kind of punishment to be unleashed on him.

Trevor Dunne: He is, also clearly aroused by the contact with Jer.

Aerin Thomas: No punishment...he sets the man upright against the wall, and hands him the already-lit cigarette, making sure he's got a good grip and isn't droppiing it before letting go. "Calm down, Xu...it's okay." He gives a reassuring smile, and then steps back, away. Not crowding him, and keeping the contact to a minimum. "Just...talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Why are here, and what made you decide to get this drunk?"

Trevor Dunne: He stares at him, then belatedly seems to realize that he's got a cig in his hand. He brings it to his mouth and takes a puff, exhaling through his nostrils. "I came here to meet wit a contact. Trade information. Got hit wit...terrogation. Dumped back here. Sent a message fer pickup. Got drunk waitin' fer you."

Aerin Thomas: ((Per+Med to guess at the kind of drug in his system?))

Trevor Dunne: (sure)

Aerin Thomas: : 9,5,6,8,7

Trevor Dunne: (Morphine, for sure, judging from his eyes. Alcohol, of course. But the poor coordination indicates some kind of muscle relaxant beyond the booze.)

Trevor Dunne: "But if dey've not come back by dis time....dere done wit me. So yeh can go, I'll be fine. Just give me de gun."

Aerin Thomas: He stares at Xu for a long moment. "I'm not leaving you here. I'll stay here tonight, make sure you're all right."

Trevor Dunne: That seems to shame him further, and he glances away from him, eyes closing again.

Aerin Thomas: He sighs. "Xu...you can barely move. Whatever you got hit with, it's fucked you up. It's not weakness to be in your state after all that."

Trevor Dunne: "Thhhhhhhiopental." He says, trying extra hard to pronounce the 'th' sound.

Trevor Dunne: "Trutd serum," he explains, taking another sloppy drag of his cig.

Aerin Thomas: He frowns. "Who interrogated you? The Fangs?"

Trevor Dunne: He snickers and shakes his head. "Nobody of consequence." That seems to be inordinately funny to him and he laughs.

Aerin Thomas: A frown. "Xu...someone who's got access to Thiopental is probably someone of at least some consequence, especially if they're using it on you and questioning you."

Trevor Dunne: He waves his hand, rolling his eyes. "Amateurs. Couldin break me for weeks, let alone a few hours."

Aerin Thomas: A little nod. "I don't doubt that." He's quiet for a moment, considering.

Trevor Dunne: His mood seems to have lightened as he thinks about the interrogation, as if he found the whole thing rather amusing.

Aerin Thomas: "So what were they interrogating you over?"

Trevor Dunne: "Diamonds."

Trevor Dunne: "Old business." He smirks. "Old jobs."

Aerin Thomas: He frowns. That sounds like the Silver Fangs, all right. "Why?"

Trevor Dunne: He shrugs, taking another drag of the cig, but having to actually open his eyes and make sure the butt gets into his mouth. "Untrained 'terrogators take what you give 'em."

Aerin Thomas: "So you gave them stuff on your old jobs. What exactly were they looking for, then? Or were they looking for other information on old business, and took other old business that wasn't related"

Trevor Dunne: He nods, smirking.

Aerin Thomas: He grins a little at that, going along with the good mood. "Nice. Not that I think you'd be capable of any less, but still...nice."

Trevor Dunne: He nods, taking another few drags, mumbling something in Afrikaans.

Aerin Thomas: "Hmmm?" He takes a drag of his cigarette, brow arching. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

Trevor Dunne: "Notding, just...amateurs."

Aerin Thomas: A little nod. "Ahh." There's a long pause. "So, besides this minor detail of interrogation and being hopped up on morphine, truth serum, and alcohol, how are you? We haven't much had the chance to talk, lately."

Trevor Dunne: He grunts at that, closing his eyes as he tries to think of what to say. Now that his attention is no longer on the actual interrogation, his mood seems to waver, and that shame seems to overcome him again, particularly as his arousal level hasn't abated at all.

Aerin Thomas: A pause, and he watches the man a moment. "Xu...do you want me to stay, or do you want me to go. I would like to stay here with you, or at least take you back to the apartment, let you rest there, where you've got backup if someone comes for you...or even just somewhere else, that's not here. I don't want to leave you here like this. But I don't want to...make you uncomfortable, either."

Trevor Dunne: He sighs, then fits the cig to his lips, sucking down the last of his cig. "I don't know," he says, exhaling. "Ita's fucking dogs will shove tdeir noses in m'n woers and I'll probably kil tdem."

Trevor Dunne: "Just...take me...to anotder hotel. Or...to de house on Staten."

Aerin Thomas: "We've got a second bedroom, no one's using it...we can close the door on the dogs." He nods, though, when he suggests other places. "All right. Let me get you packed up and ready to move." He stands up, moving to close up the breafcase of weapons and clean up a little, getting anything else of Xu's, picking up the bottles, et cetera.

Trevor Dunne: He waits, sitting there with his eyes closed, back up against the wall. He doesn't try to keep the gun on the floor with him, allowing Jer to pick that up.

Aerin Thomas: He does pick up the gun on the floor, and gets the place picked up a bit before reaching down to help the other get to his feet.

Trevor Dunne: With Jer steadying him, he manages to get his feet under him.

Trevor Dunne: the actual walking part is far more complex and he trips over his feet and threatens to take Jer down with him (STR+ath to keep from being dragged over)

Aerin Thomas: : 6,2,3,2,6,

Trevor Dunne: It takes some effort, but he barely manages to keep Trev upright. Unfortunately it calls for rather close up contact that causes Trev once again to get wide eyed and panicky, as well as aroused.

Trevor Dunne: Which, of course, adds to his shame.

Aerin Thomas: He furrows his brow in effort as he tries to help the man move along. "Calm down, Xu. You're fine...don't worry. Let's just...get you down to the car, okay?"

Trevor Dunne: he does his best to move along with Jer but simply lacks the coordination.

Aerin Thomas: He pauses and looks at the other. "Xu...I'm going to help you down to the car. Just...try to relax, okay? You're fine. Just down to the car, okay?"

Trevor Dunne: He lifts his hands, moving as if he's trying to step away from Jer "I'm not touching anytding." He professes vehemently.

Aerin Thomas: "Of course not." He shakes his head. "Nor am I. Just getting to the car, all right?"

Trevor Dunne: He nods, finally seeming to relax enough to allow Jer to get him to the car.

Aerin Thomas: He nods, grabbing the briefcase and heading down with Xu to the car, being careful with his steps, making sure that there's no accidental contact with anywhere bad, even if Xu slips. He helps Xu into the car, then moves around to his side.

Trevor Dunne: It's a sloppy, but successful transfer into the car. He slumps back in the seat.

Aerin Thomas: He takes a look around the vicinity, once more, before he slides in. ((P+A: : 9,2,6,4,8,4,))

Trevor Dunne: He sees somebody who might be watching the place, but he's not sure.

Aerin Thomas: A frown, and he slides into the car, shutting the door. "We may have someone watching us. So, to a hotel, or to the house?"

Trevor Dunne: He looks around to see if he can see who Jer's talking about.

Trevor Dunne: But he can't so he shrugs. "Boat."

Aerin Thomas: "All right." He starts the engine, pulling out and heading for the boat, keeping an eye out to see if any cars are following. ((*Thuds* : 2,5,9,1,4,2,))

Trevor Dunne: As far as he can tell, nobody's following.

Aerin Thomas: "Where is the boat right now?" He drives onward...maybe a little on edge. He's never had a good experience to date on that damn thing.

Singha (10:55 PM) :

Trev tells him what pier, and spends most of the trip with his eyes closed, looking as if he's dozed off, tho he still appears to have a hard on, from the bulge in his pants.

Aerin Thomas: He heads out to the boat and kills the engine, near as he can get to the thing. Another look around as he gets out ((P+A: : 9,5,2,3,4,8...the Alert gods are not with him)), and he moves around to Xu's side, opening the door.

Trevor Dunne: as far as he can tell, nobody's following them.

Aerin Thomas: A little nod as he finds nothing, and he looks to Xu. "We're at the boat."

Trevor Dunne: He takes a deep breath and climbs out of the vehicle, standing there for a long moment, before gritting his teeth. He moves down the pier and up the gangplank without any help from Jer, moving, apparently, on his own force of will.

Aerin Thomas: He shuts the car door behind Xu and moves along behind him, falling easily back into boduguard mode, moving with him onto the boat.

Trevor Dunne: (Assuming Jer's carrying the briefcase?)

Aerin Thomas: ((Yeah))

Trevor Dunne: "Just throw the lines off. I'll be alright from here," he assures Jeremy

Aerin Thomas: A tenative look. "You're sure?" ((Per+Emping, specifically looking to see if Xu would feel that Aerin was abandoning him by leaving him here: : 9,5,2,5,5,2,6,))

Trevor Dunne: He seems more to be aware of how Jer feels about the boat and not wanting him to be subjected to having to be there.

Trevor Dunne: But there's also that whole undercurrent of arousal/shame going on, too.

Aerin Thomas: He nods. Probably best to give the man his space, tonight. "All right. My phone's on me...if you need anything, get ahold of me. I'll get here, or wherever you dock, in a flash, okay?"

Trevor Dunne: "Fine," he says, not looking at him

Trevor Dunne: "Oh," he says, as if it's just occurring to him. "Did you ever get the message from Karlos about the Bear spirit?"

Aerin Thomas: "About how the lady's feeding off of it? Yeah."

Trevor Dunne: "Alright. Have a good night. Sorry for the trouble."

Aerin Thomas: "It's no trouble, Xu. At all." A little sigh and he nods, moving to throw the lines off the boat. "I'll call you later, okay? Just so I know you're okay. Call me what you like for this, but I worry about you. And I know we haven't been talking much at all for a long time, but I still care about you."

Trevor Dunne: He makes it, somewhat clumsily, to the wheel house and starts the motor up. Hell so long as he doesn't get picked up by the harbor police for DUI, he should make it out okay.

Aerin Thomas: He lets the man go, remaining standing on the pier.

Trevor Dunne: He motors off into the night

Aerin Thomas: Once he's out of view, he returns back to his car, and drives off toward home.