ArchivedLogs:Negotiating

Negotiating
Dramatis Personae Toru, Trib
In Absentia	2014-01-09 Toru makes a confession; Trib lays down the law. WARNING: Adult Content (language)
Location <NYC> 311 {Trib} - Sunrise Apartments
For a room in the Sunrise building, this apartment is pretty well-furnished. There isn't much in the way of art - though on one wall, there are the beginnings of what appears to be a collage of articles; most boxing, although there are a few news stories and glossy physique images from muscle magazines. Against one wall is a plush brown couch is wedged between matching end tables, with a matching ottoman seated in front of it, and a blue throw blanket draped over the back. Set diagonally from that, next to a brass floor lamp, is a matching brown recliner - clearly, the three are part of a set. Decidedly /not/ matching that furniture is another couch on an opposing wall with stripes in varying widths in shades of blue, green, teal and brown; this one is a bit cheaper looking, with canvas upholstery and bare wood arms. Under it all, a mottled brown-and-ivory rug covers the hardwood floor. The only other wall with only space has a set of hooks screwed into it, which usually has a blue street bicycle hanging from it, and a skateboard leaning against the wall on the floor beneath it. The whole living room feels a bit cramped, though the relative lack of clutter keeps it from feeling too over-crowded. Through the small, dingy kitchen is the entrance to the bedroom, where a new-looking platform holds an oversized bed; the only piece of furniture in there. The door to the bathroom is closed, but it's likely stocked with bathroom-appropriate accoutrements. When Toru returns home from whatever it is he /does/ during the day, it is apparently after the teen has done some clothes shopping; he's dressed, now, in a navy blue hoodie that's a bit heavier than his usual one, and apparently he did finally decided to get that leather jacket, because a shiny new one is encasing his torso. There aren't any /chains/, but instead a lot of straps and buckles for fit adjustment in various places, most of which haven't been fussed with yet. It's also a bit /squeaky/ when he moves. When he enters the apartment, carrying a bag from a motorcycle company that has his old hoodie stuffed into it, he removes his boots at the door, dropping the bag as well, and heads straight for the kitchen. There's a noise from the bedroom, presumably where Trib is located when Toru comes in. There's a rustle of bedsheets, and the sound of big feet hitting the floor, and then Trib looms in the doorway. Naked, he leans against the doorframe, and rubs his eyes as he yawns widely. "Pup? That you?" He loiters for another couple of yawning minutes before he pads out into the living room, angling for the kitchen. "You just now gettin' home?" Toru is digging through the fridge when Trib heads out, eventually finding some leftover takeout - not that there isn't a ton of it in there - and a bowl to dump it in, and that mess then goes into the microwave. With that done, Trib is given a bit of a crooked grin, the teen running a hand through his hair both to scratch the back of his head and to pull his hood down. "I kinda had a lot of shit to take care of." But then he spreads his arms out to show off the jacket. "I went shopping. I'd kinda thought about not getting it after all, but as cold as it's been..." Shrug. "Turns out leather ain't that warm but it makes a killer windbreaker at least." "So I see," Trib says, smirking a bit at the display. He wrinkles his nose as he steps forward, poking a finger at the stiff leather before dropping his hand to tug experimentally at a buckle. "'Sfancy," he grunts, leanind down to place his nose against Toru's shoulder and inhale deeply. "Too new, though. Need to get you some fuckin'...whattayacallit. Conditioner. For it." He turns his head to steal a kiss from the teenager before he releases the buckle, using the now-free hand to scratch at himself as he opens the refrigerator. "You'll fuckin' freeze to death in leather," he agrees, snagging a bottle of soda and shutting the door. "We need to get you fuckin' long johns or somethin', if you want to look bad-ass in this weather." "Well, the hoodie helps a lot," Toru notes, looking just a /touch/ put out. "Anyway, I always look badass." But now that the jacket has been appropriately /appreciated/, he's on his way back towards the living room to pull it off, with just a smidge of difficulty given how cold it is, and hang it from the corner of his couch. "There ain't nothin' less cool than fuckin' long johns." He pulls off the hoodie, and under /that/ he's got a white button-down dress shirt, on over a white tee. "--Were you asleep just now?" "You'll still fuckin' freeze to death," Trib says, nodding firmly as he follows the teenager. "It's like that fuckin' planet in Star Wars out there, an' you ain't got a lot of paddin'." This is not a criticism, from the way that Trib's eyes are crinkled as he drops into the recliner, draping one leg over one arm and taking a long pull from his soda. Toru's proclamation gets a frown, and a furrow of the boxer's brow. "Hey. Long johns ain't that un-cool. /I/ wear 'em." He scratches his chest, watching the younger man as he strips off. The question comes just as Trib is yawning again, and he snorts as he closes his jaw. "Yeah," he says. "I was fuckin' beat, after goin' to the gym an' fightin' my way home in this shit. I fuckin' needed a nap." "Yeah, well, that kinda thing looks better on you than on me. You got that like.." He waves a hand vaguely, gesturing to Trib's general self. "Old fashioned thing goin' for you." Toru starts unbuttoning his shirt as he heads towards the bedroom, throwing clothes in there as he removes them - dress shirt, tee-shirt, pants, leaving on his socks and boxers as he returns to the kitchen, digging his food out of the microwave and stirring it with a pair of chopsticks. He plops himself down on the ottoman, when he returns to the living room, and folds his legs underneath himself as he eats, facing Trib. Mouth full of noodles, he finally says, a bit warningly as he points his chopsticks at the boxer, "I'm gonna tell you somethin' and you have to promise not to freak out. It ain't /bad/." "/Old-fashioned/?" Trib looks offended at that particular denotation, and he sits up in his chair, waving his soda bottle threateningly. "You're gonna get it for that," he growls without heat, dropping back into his chair to watch the rest of the show. There's an appreciative sort of glint in his golden stare as he watches Toru claim his food and join him. He stretches his dangling foot, crossing it over to nudge at the teenager's knee as he eats. It doesn't last; dropping away at the jab of chopsticks and the sudden declaration. The boxer's expression stills, and there's the smallest twitch of his eyebrows as he studies the other man. "Jesus. What the fuck is it now?" Rolling his eyes a little - good-naturedly! - Toru responds by opening and closing his chopsticks in a 'blah blah blah' gesture. Once he has his food properly chewed and swallowed, he remarks, "Look, just 'cause I got more problems'n you do don't mean you gotta jump up my ass when I mention 'em." Even then, though, he doesn't sound particularly upset. He sticks his chopsticks into his food bowl, dropping that hand to /grab/ Trib's foot, pulling it back up onto his knee and gripping it firmly. "Remember how that weaselly guy gave me that cash? I figured between that and what I got saved up in the bank I have a nice little egg goin', so I quit my job." Leaving it at that, he tilts his head up to watch Trib's face for the reaction. "You only bring 'em up when I'm all sleepy," Trib points out, poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth and crinkling his eyes. "An' you ain't got more problems than me. I figure if it's your problem it's my fuckin' problem." His foot is easily dragged back, and he regards it for a moment before he snaps his gaze back up to Toru's face. "Which job?" "Well, usually when you're tired, I'm tired, and that's when my brain starts runnin' laps." The question gets a bit of an embarassed silence from Toru, who chews the moment over with another mouthful of noodles before he answers. "The delivery job. The other one ain't that simple to get out of. And anyway." Here, he sets his bowl on the floor, scooting the ottoman closer to the recliner, until he can pull Trib's foot behind himself. "Reason I always open this stuff like that is 'cause if I don't there's a 50-50 chance you'll start barkin' at me and I got delicate ears." Trib listens with a flattening of his expression at the admission, and he closes his mouth so that his poking tongue is just a bump behind the skin of his cheek. He closes his eyes, for a moment, and if one was really astute they might notice that he appears to be counting silently. His eyes slide open as Toru hauls himself closer, and his exhale is half defeat, half annoyed frustration. He thumps a thumb against his chest as he watches the teenager, and finally, he grunts, and shifts his weight. His foot curls, pulling Toru that much closer. "You listen better when I bark." When he's pulled closer, Toru just gives up on the ottoman entirely; sliding his legs out from underneath himself, he pushes up to straddle the boxer's knee - the ottoman now conveniently placed for the larger man to prop his leg on - though he avoids getting /too/ much closer than that, for the moment. "When've I ever not listened to you?" He sounds just a little hurt, but brushes one hand gently along a Trib forearm. "Like-- I mean it. I've been kinda shitty lately and if I been shitty in a way I didn't realize..." "Didn't say you didn't listen," Trib says, shifting his weight and extending his curled foot to claim Toru's vacated place. "I said you listened /better/." His smirk says that this might just illustrate his point exactly, and he bounces his knees a bit. When Toru's hand lands on his forearm, his brow furrows, and the bounce of his knees this time is intended to bounce the teenager across that distance he's created. "What's goin' on with you?" the boxer asks, his voice rough-gentle as he reaches up to hold Toru in place. "You ain't been shitty. Little /uppity/, maybe, but it ain't nothin' I ain't used to." He frowns, shifting his chin so that he can meet the younger man's gaze. "Somethin' else goin' on?" Toru lets out a surprised little yelp at that bounce, grinning a little and settling in comfortably once he's held in place. "This is stupid. Before I tell you, remember you /asked/," he notes, taking in a deep breath and running a hand over his hair in that nervous gesture of his. "I know I said this before but I ain't never looked at guys before you came around, not /really/, and like... I mean obviously I think /you're/ sexy but I never really..." He sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've been kinda freaking out 'cause I guess I sorta /noticed/ a dude. And I've been like, stewing and chewin' myself up with guilt 'cause I feel like I fuckin' /betrayed/ you or somethin' by kinda likin' another guy-- who I ain't gonna do anything with 'cause I like you /more/." Trib is quiet for a long moment, after this admission, and then there's a slow rumble that begins low in his chest. Its staccato-like choppiness finally works its way free in a soft laugh that comes with Trib ghosting his hand along the teenager's spine. "/Fuck/. I thought it was somethin' fuckin' /serious/." He shakes his head, and stares off into space as he continues the slow travel of his hand. "I know I act like a fuckin' jealous ass, sometimes," he says finally, the words slow and measured. "But the only reason I get like that is 'cause I don't like feelin' like someone's tryin' to get one over on me." His hand pauses, and Trib inhales slowly as he thinks about his next words. "I know all this shit is new to you, an' there's a lot of fuckin' stuff that goes with it. I mean, we done a /lot/, but it ain't exactly a...whatayacallit. Variety. Of style." He shrugs. "I don't care if you get a fuckin' hard-on over another guy. Hell, you can even fuck 'em if you need to. Just fuckin' play safe, an' don't make me a fuckin' chump about it." /Toru/, on the other hand, is less-than-calm about that response. He does start with a sigh of relief, but it quickly fades into an almost stammered, "W-- Well yeah obviously I'd be-- if I did-- but I ain't /gonna/," he shakes his head, pushing himself only a bit away from Trib's torso, so that he can look down at the larger man through that face twisted with conflicting emotions. "I mean first off he don't even-- are you serious?" Gradually, his expression manages to fix itself on 'dubious', and he turns his head to look at Trib sidelong, dropping a hand to grip one of those firm pectorals. "That just.. seems /weird/. I mean-- doin' it, not you sayin' that. It ain't like I'm all bored 'cause we ain't doin' the karma sutra or whatever, you really do.." He closes his eyes, lowering his head and then slowly lowering the rest of himself back down. "You really do make me happy, you big dummy. I'm a simple guy and you know where the right buttons are." Trib nods solemnly at Toru's conflicted question, his eyes half-lidded as he looks up. "Yes, I'm fuckin' serious," he grunts. "It ain't fair to you to not let you have some fuckin' strange once in a while. Keeps you on your fuckin' toes." His lip curls into a tight smile, and he slides his hand around to rest it on a bony hip. "I ain't sayin' I want you to go an' jump on the first fuckin' hard dick you see," he rumbles, clearly amused by Toru's imbalance. When the smaller man lowers himself, the big man shifts his weight to set his soda bottle on the floor and folds his arms around him. "I just want you to fuckin' be able to flex your wings once in while, if you want to." Swatting Trib gently, Toru mumbles, "I ain't gonna jump nobody for now anyway. Pretty sure the dude ain't into me that way anyways, and like I said, I don't really tend to see guys like that anyway. Just a select fuggin' few." He smirks just a little at that, settling in a little more comfortably. "'Course now I feel stupid for bein' all worried about it. You obviously ain't gotta worry about me pullin' one over on you as good as I am at hidin' when somethin's buggin' me." Tilting his head up, then, he gently bumps it up against the bottom of Trib's chin. "Speakin' of buttons, why don't you remind me how strong you are?" "Well, you ain't gotta stress out about it no more," Trib rumbles, shifting his rump to jostle Toru just a bit. "If it even fuckin' comes up, I mean. Just..." he wrinkles his nose. "Don't do it in our bed," he says, shifting his eyes towards the bedroom door. "You can fuck whoever you want wherever you want, long as you keep it out of there. That's /ours/. If we ain't both in there, it ain't happenin'." He chuckles at the request that slides so neatly into place after that, and his grin is wicked. "Sounds good to me," he rumbles, swinging his feet down and tightening his grip as he stands. "This work for you?" he asks, tossing Toru over his shoulder and heading for the bedroom. "Or can I toss you around a little, too?" "Hn. I ain't gonna fuck another guy in our /house/ much less our fuggin' /bed/," Toru replies, matter-of-factly. "If I even do it at /all/." But when Trib grips him, he grins a little widely, hands moving to grip shoulders before he finds himself tossed over one of them. With a little surprised wheeze, he nonetheless finds himself comfortable quickly enough, and lowers his hands to trail fingernails along Trib's back. "Mm. Given what we've been negotiatin' on I think you're more'n entitled to do whatever the hell you want for a while."