"Oh. Thank fuck." He's jumpy, still. The whole idea of this place makes him jumpy. "I'd take another beer, if you had one. And we can talk about... here."
"Yeah, I've got more. Just a second." He stands up, grabbing Sam's empty bottle and heading into the kitchen to get him a fresh one. When he returns he passes it off, sitting back down in the same spot. It's okay, Sam, try to relax.
Sam sits a little away from Drake, rolling the bottle between his hands. Letting it cool him off a little. Trying to calm down again. The massage had been nice, for as long as it lasted.
Maybe it could work. Or maybe it was just a one-off thing. "So uh. What do you do. Like for work."
"Here?" Drake shrugs -- it's nothing special. "I bounce and bartend... but I'm thinking of seeing what the education system is like because the best part of it is kind of like being a therapist. Listening to people's problems, even the ones I have to kick out of the bar. Calming them down, figuring out why they got so drunk they caused a problem. It feels like I'm helping, at least for a little while."
"Bartender to therapist, huh? Interesting change." He sips at his drink, nodding a little. He can see Drake as a therapist. That gentle tone of voice. His calm way of speaking.
"I dunno if I'll be able to get a job here. I think my dom has to okay it. Whenever I get a dom. But I was a porter, back home. I delivered packages. Carried anything and everything on my back to wherever it needed to go." He shifts his tanktop to the side a little, to show Drake his scars from where his pack used to sit. "I feel kinda empty without my pack on. Take that as you will."
"A lot of practice. The tricky part is making sure the weight is evenly distributed, so you don't wobble." One of those enigmatic shrugs. "I've been a porter for a long damn time. At least ten years now."
He takes another sip of his beer and thinks over the proposition. "Why? So you can fix me?"
Still, holy shit. Drake didn't think the human body was capable of that kind of extended lifting... bodybuilders can deadlift it, but not walk around with that much on them.
He might've been about to ask something else, but it goes out of his head at Sam's next question.
"What? You're not broken, Sam. I just figured it'd be safer, if you don't plan on going through this with multiple people."
"Something in me's gotta be broken, right? If I can't touch anyone. If I can't anyone touch me?" He feels broken, sometimes. Can't even do something as simple as a handshake.
"I just did, though. You're still here. A little itchy, but you're gonna be able to do this." He sounds very sure of it, and is hoping that his confidence lends Sam some hope.
Well, they're working with a time crunch, so it's gonna have to go faster than that... but not for longer than they've already managed, Drake doesn't think.
"Fifteen minutes is enough to get somebody off, I feel like. We're not shooting for the moon by the end of the month, just three orgasms. It's doable, Sam."
"I'm... trying. To trust to. I want to trust you. I want you to be able to touch me. So I can get through the month without getting fucking arrested or something."
"Realignment is worse than that. Prison is if you don't contract, realignment is like... being experimented on. Physically and mentally, brainwashed and drugged. I'm not letting that happen to you."
"It'll be okay. We'll get there. If you don't think you can get off in under fifteen minutes, maybe we should work on you touching me instead of the other way around?"
"You don't even jerk off?" Drake asks, wondering if his libido is just super high and Sam is normal or if the other man doesn't like it. The latter would make this place kind of a nightmare for him even once he gets used to being touched.
"When I started as a porter, I slept outside most nights. Where I was from, that meant being on high alert. Sleeping with one eye open sort of thing. Anything that was a possible distraction had to be put aside. It just wasn't safe.
Then when I joined this company, I got rooms to sleep in. But I'm pretty sure there were cameras there, and since they collected my blood and, fuck, even the runoff from my shower, I was pretty sure they'd take whatever other bodily fluids I had on me. So there wasn't a lot of incentive to get off there, either."
"Super fucking creepy. I'm special," he says, with air quotes around special. "I'm scientifically interesting. They wanted to learn more about me and how I might be able to be... used. For their purposes."
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Maybe it could work. Or maybe it was just a one-off thing. "So uh. What do you do. Like for work."
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"I dunno if I'll be able to get a job here. I think my dom has to okay it. Whenever I get a dom. But I was a porter, back home. I delivered packages. Carried anything and everything on my back to wherever it needed to go." He shifts his tanktop to the side a little, to show Drake his scars from where his pack used to sit. "I feel kinda empty without my pack on. Take that as you will."
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As for the delivery job, it sounds straightforward enough until Sam pulls his top to the side and shows the scars. Drake blinks.
"...how heavy was that pack, geez."
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"You'd really do that? Take me on?"
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"Holy shit how can you carry that much?"
Oh, wait, there was a question.
"Yeah. Why not?"
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He takes another sip of his beer and thinks over the proposition. "Why? So you can fix me?"
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He might've been about to ask something else, but it goes out of his head at Sam's next question.
"What? You're not broken, Sam. I just figured it'd be safer, if you don't plan on going through this with multiple people."
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"Fifteen minutes is enough to get somebody off, I feel like. We're not shooting for the moon by the end of the month, just three orgasms. It's doable, Sam."
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"It'll be okay. We'll get there. If you don't think you can get off in under fifteen minutes, maybe we should work on you touching me instead of the other way around?"
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"Define properly..."
omg the latest tag in the world
<3
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Then when I joined this company, I got rooms to sleep in. But I'm pretty sure there were cameras there, and since they collected my blood and, fuck, even the runoff from my shower, I was pretty sure they'd take whatever other bodily fluids I had on me. So there wasn't a lot of incentive to get off there, either."
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He's gotten used to the paranoia of being constantly watched, but is pretty sure the city's not doing experiments with his bodily fluids...
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