[OPEN] forever unforgiven

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor looked over at him. "Y-you're the one needing thanks.." He mumbled softly, looking over with glazed eyes. The drugs were just enough to numb him up. He smiled hazily, then sighed. "I-I'll have to find a way to write her.." He agreed. "But as s-soon as it's done, I'm out of here.." He rested his head on the shoulder of the male quietly. "Y-you have a loved one?" Everyone with reason to live had someone, didn't they? Here, he lost everythig, no longer had reason.

[tarquin finley ellis]

He glanced curiously at the male after the words were spoken and just shook his head. He'd done nothing deserving of thanks, but he wasn't going to try and argue that fact. It was best to just accept and move on, to let his mind wander again in these moments they had. Eventually the staff would come looking for the guy, because there was still that whole check-in thing to go through. Quinn hasn't been keeping track of the time, though it must be past due already... doesn't matter. They can't do much at this point, could they?

He nods absently to the guy's words of writing 'her', and what it meant once he had. Quinn doesn't say anything about the choice; it's the male's to make and that's that. He accepts it, respects it, even. Quinn's even accepting of the male's head on his shoulder, and he ground out the cigarette stub on the floor and flicked it away as he heard the question. There's silence and pain; he's hurting but he doesn't want to show it. Still, why try? "I lost everything worth anything when they threw me in here." He finally responds quietly. He reaches over, idly playing with the male's hair. A small comfort, at least.

[connor crayze sykes]

"Didn't we a-all..?" Connor murmured gently, eyes closing. He hadn't trusted anybody in a long time. Perhaps he still didn't, but he could at least relate, and that said something. He played tenderly with the other male's fingers. He knew he would get in trouble for refusing to check in, but quite frankly he could care less. "I h-hope you find who you lost..you deserve it," He mumbled quietly. His constantly uneaven breaths were slow, his muscles relaxed. "We a-all deserve what we've set our hearts t-to..." Did they? Sometimes he wasn't so sure.

[tarquin finley ellis]

He smiles thinly at the response, looking at the male thoughtfully. He did not suspect everyone had someone to miss, to lose, but he didn't much think on it. It did not matter to him, did not make a difference. His gaze rivets to their twined fingers, warming slightly at the feeling but saying nothing. This is why he keeps his distance, why he doesn't get friendly. To ignore wants and needs that'll only cut him deeper. It causes him to tense, but he doesn't move away. It's best to try not to move much at all, to let his thoughts wander to something else, anything else.

He blinks at the words that come, and there's a bleak smile; a twitching of his mouth, really. "I hope you survive..." He doesn't know why he says it, and he probably shouldn't have. Not his place, and he doesn't need to complicate things. It's better not to think of it at all. No, it's best to leave now and keep his distance. And then he simply cannot help it, leaning closer before he even realizes he's doing it; intending to nibble at the male's neck in impulse. Just quick, careful pinches to the skin. Then he blinked, snapping out of it and recoiling; tense once more. Entirelly stupid thing to let happen, to even get close enough...

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor sighed. "E-even if I live...I'm s-still dying..still sick.." He stared at the wall blankly. And then there were lips at his neck and Connor tensed all over, shocked. He swallowed when the other male pulled away, wasn't sure what to think. Instinct maybe? They were only creatures of habit, after all. "I....h-hey..it's okay," He slurred, reaching to touch his cheek before pulling his hand away. "Don't worry about i-it..." He bit his lip. Something had him desperate to make this guy a friend, care about him. But he was terrified of such a thing, or being hurt..

[tarquin finley ellis]

His eyebrows furrow at the words, and he frowns, uneasy. "Maybe they can cure it." The words are more of a mutter, but he can't hold onto that kind of hope, can he? He shouldn't actually care to, and yet.. Quinn was grasping at strings, something. Anything. This male just happened to be here, happened to be unjudgemental when Quinn least expected such a thing. Fragile, dying... perhaps there was something protective there, lurking under the surface and Quinn can't help it. There seemed to be a lot of things off about this.

Quinn could feel the shock, the way the guy tensed and perhaps that was what knocked him out of it. He was very, very still in those first few seconds; waiting. Not quite knowing what to expect as a reaction. It could get very bad very quickly... but it didn't. He started to relax at the slurred words, though concerned because of the slurring itself. There was a shiver at the touch to his cheek, and he inched closer, slowly. If he were to be pushed away, he wouldn't hesitate to leave, but there was a protective sort of instinct at work here. It caused him to nuzzle back into the curve of the male's neck; aim to gently set his teeth back to work on a mark there. That is, if he was allowed that far.

[connor crayze sykes]

"Yeah...maybe." But it was only false hope. It had already been three years and they hadn't been able to do anything. He couldn't live long at the rapid place his organs were shutting down. Yet the male returned to his neck. He drew in a breath, truthfully afraid. But when no harm came, Connor relaxed, eyes closing. Nothing had to be intimate, nothing had to go farther than the words they had exchanged. In that moment though, he had been accepted. As a friend, or maybe just somebody worth protecting it didn't matter. Eyes closed and he tilted his head, his thin and scarred fingers gently finding hair on the nape of the neck of the other. Gentle, friendly...hopeful.

[tarquin finley ellis]

It's obvious that there's no hope for that in the male's response, but who knew? They did some really fucking crazy shit here, so why not that, too? Quinn doesn't say anymore on it though. It isn't something to argue about, but he can still have some hope in the back of his mind, right? It was... something, in this vast darkness.

The drawn breath, fear, made Quinn's skin prickle, but he didn't leave his spot, what he was doing. And the male had relaxed, so that calmed Quinn, too. There was even a pleased sound in his throat -- close to a purr, maybe -- when the male tilted his head. Better access. He felt the fingers at the nape of his neck, in his hair and everything was fine. He glanced at the mark he'd placed on the male's neck, and content with that, he simply settled close. It was curious, this quiet acceptance, but he wasn't questioning it, instead letting his own eyes close.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor felt him pull away, wondering exactly why he had been making a mark there on his neck. But he didn't voice his question out loud. Instead, his arm slid down to wrap around the male's waist, again resting his head on his shoulder. Everything he had taken was starting to settle in and he was dangerously in the mood to just sleep. Yet suddenly he didn't want to drive himself into such a comatose reaction, wanted to relax here with this male just a little longer. He he got unsteadily to his feet, stumbling towards the door, and stuck fingers down his throat until he threw up the pills. He could do nothing about the cocaine in his system though. Shuddering, he wandered back and curled up again like a pet might to its master. If he hadn't met this guy, his day could have been so much worse already. "Thank you..."

[tarquin finley ellis]

The marks, they were a thing. Not perfectly his thing, but Quinn is adaptive. It is, it can be, now. He can and has marked in a more lasting way, but that's something that won't happen here. Yet there is all kinds of ways to leave or make a mark, and that's always been a bit of an issue with Quinn. He can't seem to help it; he craves these little things. The marks will fade in time, they always did.

If the question is posed to him, then Quinn will answer as honestly as he can manage. He's never been a liar, but there were things complicated enough to stumble over in explination without meaning to. It happens. There's much confusion within Quinn's mind, no matter how collected he could seem. It's peaceful enough right here, with the male's arm wrapped around his waist, the head resting on his shoulder. Acceptable. Liked, even. He was content with this, even with a less then comfortable surface to be sitting on for too long. Quinn doesn't complain, doesn't want to break the silence or whatever this was.

Yet it's the male that moves, and Quinn's eyes open and he blinks, watching as the guy got up, stumbled to the door. He debates getting up as well; muscles tensing for a fast response if it's needed. Realizing what was being done, he turned his head away. He waited, and when the male came back, curled up, Quinn wrapped his arms around him, pulling the male closer; stroking down the guy's back in some attempt to be comforting. The chemical reaction through his system to this type of closeness made Quinn grit his teeth and exhale slowly. A flood of warmth seeps through his body, and it's an internal struggle to hold still. At the words he stared off for a moment. "I'll have to go soon... the proximity of you is starting to affect me..." It's quiet, the way he says it. Apologetic, even.

[connor crayze sykes]

Thos arms around him...Connor hadn't felt so accepted, so understood, in such a long time. He curled close, aware of the hand up and down his back, but equally aware of the sudden breath the other male drew in. That guilt that washes over him almost can't be helped, trying to understand what he meant exactly. Had he done something wrong to bother the guy? Biting down on his lip piercing gently he nodded, almost reluctant. The first time in a long time that somebody has so much as even batted an eyelid. But he knew he had to get back too..that he had a check up. Still, he didn't want to leave. He wasn't sure if this could make them considered friends or not, but one thought, one hope lingered in his mind. "Will I-I see you again?" The mumbled words were almost earnest, the beg of a lone wolf searching for even that one pack mate. If he actually lived long enough, would he meet this face again? Would they once more cross paths? If so what would happen? And if not...why did he have so much hope that they would?

[tarquin finley ellis]

Whatever this is, Quinn doesn't want to fuck it up. Oh he shouldn't cling to it, he should give in to all impulses and shred any way to get back to this. It would be better to cut himself off, and it's a war in his mind. Of course he notices the look the male gets after he's spoken, and he winces a little. "You haven't done anything;" He's quick to amend, not wanting that to be a worry in the guy's mind. Shivers run over him, and he knows he has to pull away soon. He closes his eyes again, reaching for the calm again. The words cause his eyes to open, his grip around the male to tighten. It's not enough to hurt or anything, just the slightest of changes, of pressure.

It could be the way it was said, it could be merely that Quinn is unable to fight without the sharp words to cease, but it's probably a number of things. Either way, the movements are quick -- careful, gentle even, because he's still aware the male is fragile -- and he's half curled over the guy; pupils dilated. His breathing is quicker, pressing closer. One arm is bracing him up along the floor, the other hand curling at the edge of the male's shirt and pulling up. "If you want me to stop, you need to tell me now."He doesn't want to stop, but he will. Quinn was several different types of fucked up, but there were still lines he didn't want to cross.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor had been expecting an answer even if it had been a no. He hadn't been expecting the sudden change in position, the hands pulling his shirt up. His body was so thin, rebealing every rib, the incave of his stomach. Scarred from uncountable belt lashes, beatings and suicide attempts. And suddenly he was frightened. He hadn't been like this with another in a long time, not on his own accord, only on the streets, being forced for money so he could pay for his drugs. A shaky hand reached up to the back of the male's neck, his face finding its crook. "Don't stop..." He whispered softly. Not if it meant even one more moment with the first person to understand in so, so long.

[tarquin finley ellis]

He knows that the male is sick, fragile. Perhaps that's part of the allure; Quinn isn't allowed to touch fragile things. They could break. Still, he struggles to be careful through the haze of what he wants, pulling the shirt away. There's a pause as his gaze flickers over the marred flesh, and warmed fingers caress over the marks. He can tell the lashings apart; what it means. Quinn has seen them before, fresh and bleeding, old and scarred. It changes nothing. He doesn't move away and his expression doesn't change. The only thing that'll make him go away now is the male's say so.

Every nerve is on edge as he waits for the response, though there's the touch to the back of his neck first, the male's face at the crook. And the whispered words that make Quinn sigh, just then realizing he'd been holding his breath in those moments after he'd spoken. His own shirt is off within seconds -- Quinn doesn't like wearing shirts, he never has -- and he shifts a little more, leaning down to trace his tongue, or tongue-ring, depending on the angle, over the male's skin as his fingers slide lower still to work on removing pants and all else as things fade to black.

[connor crayze sykes]

Tha sigh that passed the males lips had Connor shivering. With his shirt off now, the bullet dent over his heart it reveal, as is the name 'Adam' tattooed about it in lacing blue-back letters. The other male had removed his own shirt and Connor's fingers reached to trace his skin slowly, so much healthier than his own. Eyes closed, giving himself away to the male, something telling him that, another mark of ownership or not, this guy would at least be careful. But sex was sex, was it not? It didn't mean anyhing to a lot of people... And if he was just used, he was bound to be hurt afterwards. He was so desperate to be wanted however that he took that chance.
The male's tongue down his body brought another shiver to his spine, the hands at his jeans. And he let it happen, wanted it to.

---

Connor ran fingers over the spine of the other slowly, heart pounding in his chest. He opened tender blue eyes to search the male's face, wondering if this was it, if he would get up and walk away now just as a paying man might. Only a paying man wasn't so cautious of hurting him, didn't care if he broke a rib or left bruises and disease. This was different. Though they had just met and Connor did not expect this to mean even friendship, he was terrified of seeing the guy up and walk away. He didn't want to be hurt like that anymore, wasn't sure he could handle it again.