fourstrings | pray i pray come back to me

pray i pray come back to me

[ It costs him something, to go to Durgesh and play nice with Yuma. To joke and act like it’s not tearing him apart, like he wouldn’t bomb the place to powder just to keep Ajay away from it. But he does it; he chats and jokes, bickers with Yuma and drops in a line or two of Cantonese in the hopes of evoking that long-lost sibling affection, because he knows that if he lets her see just how frantic he is it’s going to cost him everything.

It hurts, too, not to tip his hand when they pull the bag off Ajay’s head. Things have been... unusual, since Ajay showed up on his doorstep with de Pleur. Admittedly Pagan could be viewed as having started it, given he’s the one who stripped off and climbed into the bath right alongside his guest, but Ajay is the one who kissed him. And Ajay is the one who was gone in the morning (with what Pagan can only imagine was one hell of a hangover) and had answered Pagan’s attempts to stay in touch via radio with either stoic silence or brief, awkward acknowledgement, so he too must share the blame! But the point is that they haven’t really had a chance to talk it out, and so Ajay has no way of knowing that when Pagan calls him a naughty little shit and plays it off as entertaining, that’s the only protection he can offer Ajay without provoking Yuma to do something worse.

Too many unknowns. Too many variables. There are only two things he’s certain of, but as it goes they’re rather good things in the circumstances: firstly, that Ajay Ghale is far too tenacious to simply give over to Yuma’s attentions and will definitely escape. Secondly, Ajay will not have to do this alone. Pagan has men among Yuma’s guard, of course. Not enough to make it easy, but enough to ensure there are weapons and ammo left in places they might be discovered. Enough to get a message to him once Ajay is on the move. And once that signal comes, it’s a blur of action. They can’t get a helicopter close enough to take Ajay directly to it without alerting Yuma, of course, so a jeep is sent out to collect him and bring him to the chopper. There’s a fight about that; he insists upon being in the jeep, his staff insist this cannot be permitted, and in the end Gary drives it out himself, a full half hour before schedule, just to prevent him. In the end, it’s for the best; if he’d been able to witness Ajay’s progress down the cliff he’d have lost his mind, given the game away. He damn near loses his mind anyway when they finally bundle Ajay into the helicopter. He isn’t conscious. The worst of the snow is off him so he’s damp rather than caked with ice, but his skin is waxy and cold to the touch. There are blankets, thick, soft wool, and as the helicopter takes off and Gary prepares an iv Pagan strips both Ajay and himself to underwear and bundles them into a veritable cocoon in the hopes of warming the boy up, muttering pleas for him to be alright all the while.

By the time they land the deathly chill is out of Ajay’s skin and any lingering effects of the drugs should be faded. Ajay still isn’t what one would call conscious, but he’s stirred in Pagan’s arms, murmured things – unintelligible, but enough to bring hope. And Pagan has Ajay brought directly to his room, only angry that he can’t carry the boy there himself, and slips right back into bed with him. Brushes a dry little kiss against Ajay’s forehead, begs him to be okay, and presses up close. It’s a waiting game now, and Pagan is painfully good at waiting. ]

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This is how I dress.

[ and okay, maybe he sounds a little wounded, because he chose this outfit specifically to appeal - colours he looks good in, the slacks in light, breathable linen. And he's not even lying - it's essentially his daily uniform, ready to have a blazer or coat or waistcoat added as the occasion demands.

It's practical! And he's pouting. ]

[ okay, smart enough to apply a little salve here. ]

And you look good. [ punctuating it with an open-mouthed kiss at the hollow under pagan's jaw. ]

But I like getting to see the you that only I get to see.

[ Listen! Pagan is smart enough to know he's being played. He's just... deciding that maybe, on this occasion, it's worth it to let himself be played, because that little kiss is so warm and the coaxing is so familiar already. He snorts just loudly enough to let Ajay know that he's onto him and rolls out of bed and into his walk-in.

His options are... limited. He finds the pants from a pair of purple silk pajamas that he's worn maybe once, preferring to sleep au naturel. There's a tshirt at the bottom of a drawer from Wham!'s Hong Kong tour, which might be good for making Ajay laugh, but it smells as if it's been in the bottom of a drawer for thirty years and the likelihood of him fitting into a tshirt purchased when he was 18 seems unlikely. In the end, he just settles on one of the tshirts he'd bought for Ajay should he need them. It's a little loose for the cut, having been purchased with Ajay's frame in mind. It's also dark red, which he'd thought would suit Ajay, and in combination with the pajama pants the whole getup makes him think of an opium poppy. But a cosy opium poppy, he hopes, and he emerges to give a dramatic sweep of his arms and a slow turn. ]

Do I pass muster?

Edited 2020-03-08 08:16 (UTC)

[ that snort gets a laugh, especially because he can't help but be tickled when pagan actually rolls out of bed to oblige him. and... well, now that they've started down this road, he's actually more than a little curious to see what pagan is going to come up with. so he rolls over onto his stomach and props his cheek up with one hand, ready to play the part of the attentive (and supportive!) audience.

truthfully, he's expecting something ridiculous. hot pink silk pajamas, maybe, or another outfit that seems better suited for a rich guy on a golf course than a day spent lazing around in bed.

but what he gets? is... nice. really nice, actually. a shirt that's a little too big on him -- which makes ajay wonder what pagan would look like wearing something of his, and that thought settles warmly at the center of his chest. it's not a put together sort of outfit at all, and it has the effect of making pagan look more... human than the figure he cuts in full king get-up. the sort of man who wakes up in the middle of the night just to make him a grilled cheese.

it's stupid to catch feelings over mismatched pajamas, but whatever.

ajay sits up, reaching out to hook his fingers in the waistband of those silk pants and tug pagan closer to him. and they really should cool it on the kissing until they're sure there's no risk of transmitting the plague -- plus, his mouth probably tastes like weird-ass herbal medicine -- but he can't resist the urge to steal one, soft and warm. ]

I like it. [ he really, really does. ]

[ Ajay's mouth tastes like weird-ass herbal medicine and cheese, and Pagan cant find it within himself to give a single damn. He lingers maybe a little longer than he should, narrowly resists the urge to suck Ajay's lip into his mouth, and instead pulls back with a smile. ]

Well, good. It was this or nothing.

[ Which he regrets saying almost instantly, because as much as a little harmless flirting is second nature to him it's one thing to do it via radio and another entirely to do it before he climbs into bed with him. ]

[ fortunately, he is feeling better, which means that flirting gets met with a little laugh. and then he's fisting both hands in that oversized t-shirt -- another bonus: not worrying about wrinking a piece of fabric more expensive than anything he owns -- and reels pagan down into bed with him. throws a leg over him and skates an arm up along his side, practically purring at the contact.

this is good. he's going to convert pagan to the benefits of easy access. ]

No complaints about nothing. But this is probably better while -- [ y'know, the plague. ] I really don't want to get you sick.

[ Oh

oh, well.

It's silly, probably, to be surprised by that. Ajay certainly hadn't been coy about his attraction last time he'd been here, and he seemed perfectly comfortable with being close before he feel asleep, but... there was still a part of Pagan that was convinced when Ajay was feeling more himself he'd feel that seeing Pagan walk away from him in Durgesh had broken something between them. But Ajay pulls him down and throws a leg over him, slips a hand up over his skin, and Pagan feels that little knot of worry leave him in a sigh. ]

I'd think the risk would depend entirely on where one kisses.

[ See? All better, and he lets a hand slip around to settle in the swarm of Ajay's back, solid and warm. ]

You say that now.

[ he sighs a pleased sound as pagan gets an arm around him, tucking himself just a little closer. it still feels like a wonderful indulgence -- all this lazy touching with no real intent -- and there's a part of him that wonders whether it's possible to ever get tired of something that feels this nice. he's going to end up turning into a lazy housecat, napping in pagan's bed and begging for pets. ]

Then a week later? Your dick falls off.

Ha! Well, at least I'd have my privacy. After last time that rumor went around nobody would believe it.

[ He's laughing though, a low rumble in his chest as he circles his hand over Ajay's back. It's good, being close like this, and he presses a little closer. Maybe Ajay had a point about the clothes after all. ]

Thank you for looking out for the welfare of my dick.

[ hang on, he has to pause here. ]

... why was there a first time people thought your dick fell off?

[ WHY IS THAT A THING ]

Oh, Yuma told them. Although I think she said it got pulled off.

[ And he grimaces, faintly. It was a loooong time ago, but some memories linger no matter how much cocaine goes through one's system in the following years. ]

I used to have a prince albert. It got... uh, caught. Nasty business. I took it out, after that.

[ the dialup modem noises from earlier are back, give him a minute.

he opens his mouth.

closes it.

... and then, after a few moments more, he tries again. ]

You had -- [ pause. ] ... a who?

[ Oh, bless. He Is Not Laughing. His eyes are just twinkling with affection, is all. ]

It's a type of piercing. Shame I didn't go with nothing after all, I could have shown you the scar.

[ okay, he's not totally an innocent babe. he's heard of dick piercings. he just didn't know --

... they had names? ]

... you asked someone to put a needle in your dick?

Paid them to, as a matter of fact! What can I say, I was young and it seemed like a good idea. And I have to say, it was much less hassle than the tattoo.

[ Now that was a pain. Countless hours facedown to get it done, having to sleep on his stomach, trying to keep it clean and put cream on it, the itching... ugh. ]

[ paid them to

it gets a strangled sound out of him, because it's hopeless not to imagine --

but, hey. wait. he's seen the man naked! twice, even if last time barely counts. ]

... what tattoo? [ are dick tattoos a thing? he hadn't really been looking. ]

[ Pagan actually does snort at that, though to be fair most of their time during which it might have been visible has been spent face-to-face. Still, when he sits up and strips the tshirt up over his head, Ajay will probably understand the snort.

The tattoo takes up the entirety of his back. The artstyle itself leans heavily on traditional Chinese imagery, but the picture itself is just about a declaration of war; a peacock, wings spread, beak open in a cry, rendered in exactly the same size as the dragon curled beneath it in defeat, bloodied by its claws. It's a sprawling thing, the colors still vivid after all this time.

His father's tattoo had been a dragon, obviously.]

Oh.

[ it's a soft thing, awed. ajay can't help the urge to reach out and touch it, splaying his fingers over the colors and letting his fingertips stroke gently down the peacock's throat. it's beautiful -- as bold and flashy as pagan, but also just as wonderfully fierce. ]

[ Oh, that's nice. The feeling of Ajay's hand over his back, fingertips tracing where Pagan knows the peacock is, and he smiles. ]

Triad puffery, but at least mine's unique and not picked off a wall. Yuma has one too. We all got them, back them, once you rose above errand boy or dumb grunt.

[ triad. it's something he didn't know, and it helps flesh out a chapter of pagan before kyrat. there's a lot he could ask, but he's not entirely sure if it's allowed -- the past is something of a minefield, and it's hard to go in blind and predict where not to step.

so he stays quiet for a long moment, fingertips mapping out the shape of the tattoo. it really is beautiful, and fitting as hell. hard to believe he ever imagined pagan's back without it. ]

You're the peacock. [ there's an amused fondness there, the pad of his thumb stroking along that sharpened beak. ] Obviously.

Who's the dragon?

[ Oh, he's in trouble, because as fond as Ajay sounds Pagan can hear teh amusement in his voice, and he likes it. Likes the sound of it, likes the feeling of Ajay's fingers on his skin, likes that Ajay is comfortable saying it, like they're perfectly equal. He turns his head, and it's only enough to let him see the vague shape of Ajay's face, but it's enough. ]

My father. A common drug pusher who fancied himself a kingpin.

[ it doesn't answer everything, but it fills in more than one blank. and he hmms another low sound of acknowledgement as he goes back to simply touching, tracing his fingers lazily around the plume of one brilliant feather. and then he props himself up on his elbow, just enough to be able to press a warm and open-mouthed kiss to that inked skin. ]

Wonder what I'd be.

[ if pagan says honey badger, ajay is kicking him right out of bed. ]

A tiger.

[ He says it without a second thought before he twists around, that kiss to his back making him want one direct from Ajay's lips to his own, germs be damned. ]

In Chinese mythology, the tiger comes from the west. Protects the good, kills the evil, brings balance between opposites. Is known for his beauty and ferocity.

[ And he wears the mark of a king on his forehead, written in his stripes. Pagan lifts one hand and traces it out on Ajay's skin, between his eyes: 王 ]

[ oh.

listen, it was just a silly hypothetical, but --

there's a fierce sort of conviction in pagan's voice that makes something in ajay's chest catch and swell. it almost aches to be adored like this, as if he's some fierce and beautiful thing, and he's torn between the urge to shy away from it and this hopeless craving for more.

in the end, he settles for throwing an arm over pagan and pulling him back down to the mattress, tangling their legs together and tucking up close all over again. ] Maybe I'll get one someday. A tattoo.

[ and then his voice drops down into something shy, fingers skating lightly up the line of pagan's throat. ] And only we'd know why.

[ because he's pagan's tiger. ]

[ Well, if Pagan's going to be shirtless it's only fair that Ajay is too, so he squirms only enough to get the required distance to peel Ajay's shirt away before he tucks back in close. There. Skin-to-skin, warm, and all the better for just being for the sheer joy of it this time. Ajay's fingertips track a gentle line up Pagan's throat and he tips his head back, offering it up. A tiger from legend would tear it out, certainly, but this tiger sees the good in him. Makes him want to stoke it from a spark into a bonfire that Ajay can warm himself by. ]

My tiger. My Ajay.

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