Scott Summers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notrosecolored) wrote2026-01-12 07:10 pm
notrosecolored) wrote2026-01-12 07:10 pm
Duplicity Contact Post
Call, text, action all go here
Call, text, action all go here
He listens, doesn't add a word in edgewise, simply chases the touch Scott gives him on the bride of his nose, like a starving dog. He does know Grayson, and he was very professional when he strangled him and broke his nose at a public party. Maybe he'll have to lean a little harder on the guy.
What Midnighter ends up with may not be what Scott expects to hear, or an answer at all. But he heard.
"Kiss me." Propped up on his elbows he can't get any closer to Scott, he would if he could.
What Midnighter ends up with may not be what Scott expects to hear, or an answer at all. But he heard.
"Kiss me." Propped up on his elbows he can't get any closer to Scott, he would if he could.
Scott doesn't expect any verbal acknowledgement, much less agreement. He does expect to be heard, and he's pretty clear on that.
Really is surprised by 'kiss me', though. He lifts his eyebrows for a moment, but just uses that same hand Mid was chasing to curl around Mid's jaw, leans down and slowly, thoroughly, and with a complete lack of violence (but not absence of demand) kisses him.
Really is surprised by 'kiss me', though. He lifts his eyebrows for a moment, but just uses that same hand Mid was chasing to curl around Mid's jaw, leans down and slowly, thoroughly, and with a complete lack of violence (but not absence of demand) kisses him.
It's exactly what Midnighter wants. Both hands cup the man's face to keep him right where he wants him, taking pleasure in the unhurried press of Scott's lips. He licks into his mouth without expectation of further escalation, just this slow swap of touch, of care, and of words that don't have to be uttered. Midnighter may do better communicating like this, but it doesn't have to be sex. He just... needs to be close to people. Physically.
And when they naturally part for a fresh breath and a little space, he tells Scott, "You're a good friend."
And when they naturally part for a fresh breath and a little space, he tells Scott, "You're a good friend."
Scott half expects Midnighter to try to escalate back to sex, just as an evasion tactic. That not happening is a surprise, but a pleasant one. Physicality isn't as great as telepathy for communication, but it is a damn sight better than Scott trying to use words.
"I tried to get him to kill me not long before I showed up here; I'm not a good friend; you've got two months to find your own contract. If you haven't, I'm adding you to my collection of self-destructive chaos machines." THere's... a smile there, though.
"I tried to get him to kill me not long before I showed up here; I'm not a good friend; you've got two months to find your own contract. If you haven't, I'm adding you to my collection of self-destructive chaos machines." THere's... a smile there, though.
"Didn't say you were a perfect friend, or a great friend," Midnighter mumbles against Scott's cheek before he places a kiss at the corner of his nose, just above his mouth. Friendship for them shouldn't be defined the same way a gaggle of middle school kids would. Midnighter has stood in the way of many friends thinking he knew what was best. His own ex has tried to kill him before. It's different when you're different.
"What, you collect us like Pokemon? You Ash Ketchum? Or maybe Brock..." He considers it. "Brock."
Yeah. He's Brock.
"What, you collect us like Pokemon? You Ash Ketchum? Or maybe Brock..." He considers it. "Brock."
Yeah. He's Brock.
"No."
He kisses Midnighter's temple and then sort of shoves him to lay back down again, and stretches out on top of Mid light some kind of (very warm) living blanket.
"And you're lucky I know what Pokemon are." Nevermind Brock. That one's beyond him.
He kisses Midnighter's temple and then sort of shoves him to lay back down again, and stretches out on top of Mid light some kind of (very warm) living blanket.
"And you're lucky I know what Pokemon are." Nevermind Brock. That one's beyond him.
No, not yet.
[Water is a bit of an unsteady space in his mind. It always harbors dangers you can't see fast enough.
But that just makes him more curious about it now, here.]
...Can I go with you?
[Water is a bit of an unsteady space in his mind. It always harbors dangers you can't see fast enough.
But that just makes him more curious about it now, here.]
...Can I go with you?
[ A bright light opens up like a door in Scott's apartment. Out walks Midnighter with a cloudy plastic storage bin in his hands. ]
Hey. Can I store something at your house?
Hey. Can I store something at your house?
Scott doesn't lock his actual door - he barely closes it. That 'door' opening in his apartment, however, startles the shit out of him because of the havoc it (briefly) wrecks on his sense of spatial awareness.
"Does this look like a storage unit?" He is just kind of sitting on the couch, turned that way and recovering from the spike of adrenaline the abrupt appearance and weird disorientation caused. Not outwardly obvious but racing heart is going on.
But also: "How much stuff, and why?"
"Does this look like a storage unit?" He is just kind of sitting on the couch, turned that way and recovering from the spike of adrenaline the abrupt appearance and weird disorientation caused. Not outwardly obvious but racing heart is going on.
But also: "How much stuff, and why?"
He can practically taste the change of chemicals spreading through Scott's blood system on his tongue. It seems... more than a startle, like a regular guy he might bombard. Or maybe he's just used to his ex accepting his poor boundaries.
"More so than the shit holes they give subs," he clarifies without apology. The bin he sets on the coffee table in front of Scott.
"Just this. It was Jamie's stuff. I don't want to get rid of it yet. Don't worry, there's nothing flammable or unstable in there."
"More so than the shit holes they give subs," he clarifies without apology. The bin he sets on the coffee table in front of Scott.
"Just this. It was Jamie's stuff. I don't want to get rid of it yet. Don't worry, there's nothing flammable or unstable in there."
He leans forward, picks up one end of the tub to gauge the weight and then sort of shrugs and pushes up to his feet.
"You're more sentimental than you let on, aren't you. But sure. Follow me."
All the apartments are basically the same, but he's got his bedroom and a closet that this will fit in. It's not like it's a house's worth of crap and. That bedroom doesn't even look lived in, it's so ruthlessly neat. There's space.
"You're more sentimental than you let on, aren't you. But sure. Follow me."
All the apartments are basically the same, but he's got his bedroom and a closet that this will fit in. It's not like it's a house's worth of crap and. That bedroom doesn't even look lived in, it's so ruthlessly neat. There's space.
[ Everyone gets the same text, stuttered out on a run through the storm in the Up. ]
Dick's lost his humanity
loose in the Up
Dick's lost his humanity
loose in the Up
"Okay, easy there," Midnighter grumbles behind the man as he follows after. "It's practicality. He spent a lot of money on the candles, the clamps. If he comes back, I don't want him buying a whole new kit.
"You can't just buy any candles for wax play. Apparently."
"You can't just buy any candles for wax play. Apparently."
"It has something to do with the temperature at which they melt." Clamps seem pretty self-explanatory. "If you're into this, why didn't you know that?"
Midnighter snorts.
"I'm not into waxplay. Might as well be a tickle," he tells Scott. "Jamie was. He taught me which candles work best for his poor normal skin. I'd prefer using hot slag, but that wasn't his scene."
The last comment is a "joke." Sort of.
"I'm not into waxplay. Might as well be a tickle," he tells Scott. "Jamie was. He taught me which candles work best for his poor normal skin. I'd prefer using hot slag, but that wasn't his scene."
The last comment is a "joke." Sort of.
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