"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."
He felt something drop and shatter when Varker dropped his hand. He wasn't sure if it was that, or just a realization that...
While the attraction was there on Varker's part, there was truly no romantic interest in him. Because if he did...he wouldn't have tried to ask this would he?
Oscar shut his eyes tight, feeling cold, and very much his age.
"I think," his voice was shaking, "that you need to go back to your cabin."
He can feel him tense, Varker pausing as the record fills the silence. He can still feel his pulse, and for a moment he thinks maybe the push was being ignored, but then-
Varker's hand on his back stills, pulling back from where he'd been giving his neck attention and looks up at Oscar, scoffing, "you can't be serious."
He'd asked him to, and he delivered, hadn't he? "It isn't like you can't taste it on me, you think I'd tell if you indulged with me?"
Audrey has stayed quiet for most of this, chirps in confusion when there is the slightest bit of panic starting to build. He can't say he miscalculated, it was a stupid and risky game to begin with, but he hadn't expected...
Instead of what should be an apology he latches on to the thing he shouldn't, taking a step back from Oscar as he straightens his own robe, "hard enough, Mm? Such a god damn chore, but 'its hard to not kiss you, Clement'" he parrots back at him.
He grabbed the back of the couch, and his face went tight. Angry.
"Because I wanted to kiss you. Because I was attracted to you. Not. The liquor."
Despite the anger, his voice only became a rumble, deep in his chest.
"Get out."
Usually Oscar was soft spoken, polite. It was really a sign of how much he cared that he was keeping himself in place. If Varker kept it up, he knew what he would do would be quick, precise, and angry.
He couldn't even bring himself to comfort Audrey just then.
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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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While the attraction was there on Varker's part, there was truly no romantic interest in him. Because if he did...he wouldn't have tried to ask this would he?
Oscar shut his eyes tight, feeling cold, and very much his age.
"I think," his voice was shaking, "that you need to go back to your cabin."
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Varker's hand on his back stills, pulling back from where he'd been giving his neck attention and looks up at Oscar, scoffing, "you can't be serious."
He'd asked him to, and he delivered, hadn't he? "It isn't like you can't taste it on me, you think I'd tell if you indulged with me?"
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"But I would know. I-"
He took a deep breath, and exhaled through his nose.
"I'm serious. It's hard enough to taste it on you. Please leave."
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Instead of what should be an apology he latches on to the thing he shouldn't, taking a step back from Oscar as he straightens his own robe, "hard enough, Mm? Such a god damn chore, but 'its hard to not kiss you, Clement'" he parrots back at him.
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"Because I wanted to kiss you. Because I was attracted to you. Not. The liquor."
Despite the anger, his voice only became a rumble, deep in his chest.
"Get out."
Usually Oscar was soft spoken, polite. It was really a sign of how much he cared that he was keeping himself in place. If Varker kept it up, he knew what he would do would be quick, precise, and angry.
He couldn't even bring himself to comfort Audrey just then.
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