His confidence is rising for the simple fact that it is entirely hypocritical for him to be telling anyone they should be taking care of themselves.
"Yes, well 'trying' and restless sleep isn't good enough."
He shrugs a shoulder at the question, breaking eye contact. "Sorting my shit out. Norton's been dragging me to dance lessons." A slight quirk of his lips, "do you dance, Oscar?"
"You don't have to thank me for it, I just-" some more grumbling follows as he uncrosses his arms and starts to pace, though its far less agitated than usual, slow and meandering. He just doesn't feel like standing still.
"Put something on we can waltz to while you're at it." He directs him, rolling up the sleeves of his robe and kicking off his house shoes so he doesn't slip or trip over them, bare scaled feet on the floor.
He likes seeing him so dressed down, hair a mess. It had always been one of his favorite things, even when he hadn't even liked who he'd hooked up with. He could spot them in class later, buttoned up, well groomed and know what a man looked like at his most vulnerable and relaxed state.
"Do you want to lead, or should I?" It made him feel powerful, even if he only kept it to himself.
"If you do well I'll know your humoring me," he teases him, taking his hand and putting his other on his shoulder, counting along with the music before he starts them off in the step.
It might look silly, the shorter of them leading, but Apart from the perhaps too tight grip on his hand, Varker is confident in each step.
It feels nice to have confidence in something he does well, leading Oscar through the steps more slowly than he should to try and help him through. As his smile grows, he thinks to himself that he can't tell Norton for the fact that he'd be too giddy and up his own ass about it.
"I think you're doing fine, shall we go a little faster, Oscar?" He doesn't like the feel of his scales against Oscar's hands, but it is nice to touch him, and slowly but surely his grip loosens.
He leads him in a more traditional pace, sure that Oscar wouldn't trip, "now wouldnt that be embarrassing when you're sober and I'm not."
Not like he's trying to hide it these days, and while he does take care of his appearance you can't scrub away the smell of whiskey. "If you fall I'm coming down with you, wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"
"Means I haven't lost my touch," he practically purrs at Oscar, leading them in a turn.
He likes Oscar, enjoys playing these games with him, but it's a little intoxicating, the idea that he could tempt him, that he might fall with him.
And it isnt even that he wants him to join in his misery, just that he would be happy, and getting healthy and seen him, none of those things and still wish to be right here.
"Do you want me to tempt you, Oscar? Do you like it when I do?"
He coughed, his face flushing to his ears, his neck. God above, he enjoyed it too much when Clement flirted with him. And it did make him long so much for a relationship, to date Varker, just to hold his hand and let themselves fall in love.
Oscar did sputter a little, ducking his head and swallowing.
"I...Clement, I like being with you. I don't want to...hurt you, with temptation or any of it."
Unfortunate for Oscar that Varker, while very fond of him, isn't looking to kindle something much like they had in the Breach. He doesn't want to be the motivated husband, the doting father, live out some sweet dream of courtship when he doesn't think he deserves it. Not with Steward, not with Oscar. No one.
His entire theory about what it would take to get out of here is earning that right, and where they stand now, Clement the inmate, he has ways to go.
"You can't hurt me," he says as if it's gospel, "but that isn't what I asked." Hands still clasped, he stops in the middle of a step, pushing up onto his toes to whisper in Oscar's ear, "do you want me to tempt you, Oscar?"
He knew Varker doesn't see him that way. He wasn't Stewart. He wasn't the nurse from the breach. And yet he felt the attraction, so utterly besotted with him.
He swallowed, closing his eyes as he felt his body heat. And he shivered hard, still mid step.
"Yes." He whispered. He needed to go to chapel in the morning for being so lustful.
The hand under his arm slips back, trailing down his spine as he smiles against the other mans ear, turning his head to press kisses against his neck.
Somewhere behind them is a surface, Varker using his body to walk them backward into it hard enough that it makes a sound but isn't painful, just a little forceful.
He breathes hot on the column of his neck, sucking a bruise there just under his jaw before be whispers into his ear again, "have a drink with me?"
Oscar made a soft noise, feeling himself press against the back of the couch. He felt himself relax, tilting his head back, enjoying the feeling against his skin, thinking that there might be some light touching and making out-
And it took a few moments to realize what was said.
Varker's hand had left Oscar's, pulling at the knot of the other man's robe.
He has his flask in his pocket, not having liked the idea of going to Oscar's cabin and waking up sober again after new years.
The question doesn't seem to slow him at all, pressing forward boldly where he shouldnt, asking something of Oscar he definitely shouldnt be. His tongue presses against his neck, feeling his pulse picking up before he repeats himself, "have a drink with me."
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"Sleep deprivation is dangerous... and you need to take care of yourself."
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A pause. "Try to sleep. It's just not always restful."
And he was trying to work himself to sleep where he could. It helped.
"What about you? How have you been?"
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"Yes, well 'trying' and restless sleep isn't good enough."
He shrugs a shoulder at the question, breaking eye contact. "Sorting my shit out. Norton's been dragging me to dance lessons." A slight quirk of his lips, "do you dance, Oscar?"
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"Well, it looks like you've helped me. Thank you."
He watched him, and felt a little smile touch his lips.
"I know a dance or two. Have you come to cut a rug with me?"
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"Maybe."
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His expression was warm as he watched Clement pace. At least it wasn't as agitated this time.
"Maybe? And here I thought you wanted to sleep." What a tease.
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He presses his lips together before holding out his hand, lifting his chin, "just one, before we turn in?"
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"Just let me set the bag down, and I'll give you this dance."
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At least the floor was warm, as Oscaf came forward, taking off his robe and sliding off his slippers.
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"Do you want to lead, or should I?" It made him feel powerful, even if he only kept it to himself.
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"You lead." He offered his hand. "I'm rusty with the waltz." And Clement could use some power back.
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It might look silly, the shorter of them leading, but Apart from the perhaps too tight grip on his hand, Varker is confident in each step.
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Maybe it did look silly, but from the looks of it, Oscar was far less certain about the steps. He felt just a little wobbly to show he wasn't lying.
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"I think you're doing fine, shall we go a little faster, Oscar?" He doesn't like the feel of his scales against Oscar's hands, but it is nice to touch him, and slowly but surely his grip loosens.
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"A little faster...yes, all right." He lightly pressed their palms together. "I apologize if I trip and fall on my ass ahead of time."
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Not like he's trying to hide it these days, and while he does take care of his appearance you can't scrub away the smell of whiskey. "If you fall I'm coming down with you, wouldn't be so terrible, would it?"
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He knew. And he could smell it and long for the liquor smell and want a swing out of a hip flask or something so strong. His mind would blur.
Though it wasn't a flush of guilt, but a fluster at the idea of Clement on top of him...he coughed.
"You're a tempting man." He told him. "It's already hard not to kiss you right now."
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He likes Oscar, enjoys playing these games with him, but it's a little intoxicating, the idea that he could tempt him, that he might fall with him.
And it isnt even that he wants him to join in his misery, just that he would be happy, and getting healthy and seen him, none of those things and still wish to be right here.
"Do you want me to tempt you, Oscar? Do you like it when I do?"
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Oscar did sputter a little, ducking his head and swallowing.
"I...Clement, I like being with you. I don't want to...hurt you, with temptation or any of it."
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His entire theory about what it would take to get out of here is earning that right, and where they stand now, Clement the inmate, he has ways to go.
"You can't hurt me," he says as if it's gospel, "but that isn't what I asked." Hands still clasped, he stops in the middle of a step, pushing up onto his toes to whisper in Oscar's ear, "do you want me to tempt you, Oscar?"
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He swallowed, closing his eyes as he felt his body heat. And he shivered hard, still mid step.
"Yes." He whispered. He needed to go to chapel in the morning for being so lustful.
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Somewhere behind them is a surface, Varker using his body to walk them backward into it hard enough that it makes a sound but isn't painful, just a little forceful.
He breathes hot on the column of his neck, sucking a bruise there just under his jaw before be whispers into his ear again, "have a drink with me?"
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And it took a few moments to realize what was said.
Asked of him.
"W-what?"
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He has his flask in his pocket, not having liked the idea of going to Oscar's cabin and waking up sober again after new years.
The question doesn't seem to slow him at all, pressing forward boldly where he shouldnt, asking something of Oscar he definitely shouldnt be. His tongue presses against his neck, feeling his pulse picking up before he repeats himself, "have a drink with me."
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