"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."
"...I don't want to say I'm glad you're here because this place isn't great either but. That's a horrible way to treat somebody. I've been experimented on before."
"I guess at least they had incentive to keep you alive?" Drake shrugs, not really wanting to talk about this anymore. "You feel like you've had enough for today? We can just hang out."
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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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