Log Title: Pillow Talk
Summary: In which first kisses, first sleeves and first bodyguards are discussed.
IC Date: Thu Mar 28 19:06, 2381
OOC Date: Thu Mar 28 19:06, 2019
Related Logs: Dessert With A Wounded Bird
winterroyal

 

 

"He's the kind of man who will take a bullet for you but never shut up about how the bullet was all your fault."

* OOC Time: Thu Mar 28 17:06:55 2019 *

* * *

  • * *

* * *

The night passed quite enjoyably, despite Royal's injury and the necessary accommodations. The two wore one another out in bed and then restored themselves by finishing off the mochi and dregs of Royal's noodles. Afterwards, they made creative use of the left over whipped cream which left skin and sheets a little bit sticky, but small price to pay. In the wee hours, they drifted off to sleep, and now it's been a few hours since the sun's risen. Winter remains asleep, half-tangled in sheets, with their head pillowed on Royal's good shoulder. They breathe softly, fingertips twitching now and again as they dream.

* * *

At one point in the night, Royal slid off the bed to re-up his painkillers. But it wasn't for long, and he settled back in. As the sun comes up, the windows tint down, shielding them from the glare of daylight. It's also utterly silent. He's got some kind of sound dampener in place of bedroom walls, and it makes things wonderfully peaceful and serene. At some point, they got his shirt off. Scissors might have been involved, and/or enthusiastic ripping. Good thing it was just an exercise shirt. He sleeps with a smile on his face.

It's only the painkillers wearing off again that nudges him out of sleep. The dull, throbbing ache from his shoulder that was, unfortunately, irritated by their very fun evening. The bandages cover quite a large area on his shoulder. The arm itself only has a faint bruise, so the sling is just to not put pressure on the healing collarbone or disturb the cloned grafts. He sucks in a breath, chest rising beneath Winter. It's held a moment, and there's a wince. But he only makes the softest sound.

* * *

Winter stirs a little, fingers stretching wide as they blink slowly awake. Maybe they're a light sleeper, or maybe they're just not used to sharing a bed. There's a moment of disorientation as they try to sort out where they are and why they feel warm skin beneath their cheek, but then it all floods back and they smile softly before lifting their head and pushing a tangle of blonde hair from their face. "Well, good morning," they murmur to Royal, voice rough from sleep (and maybe a bit from other things). A soft kiss is pressed to his jaw. "Sleep all right?"

* * *

"Mhmmm," intones Royal. "How about you?" He splays his fingers against Winter's back and flexes gently. He streeeetches his long legs, toes sticking out from the tangled blankets. "I do hope you didn't have anywhere to be today, because it's quite late according to my ONI." He chuckles softly.

* * *

"Yeah," Winter murmurs, their tone a touch surprised at this realization. "I did." They ease up into a sit, stretching their back and arms with a quiet yawn. "No, I'm free until later. I guess in future, if I have morning appointments, I'd better set an alarm." Spending their nights in VR means that's not usually a problem, as the program is set to automatically return them to their sleeve at a predesignated time.

* * *

Royal sits himself up as well. His ONI flutters. "Hm. Well, according to my doctor, I'm supposed to start trying my arm out of the sling for short periods." But then he smiles sheepishly and scratches the side of his head. "But I don't know if last night set things back a touch." Not that he looks like he regrets a damned thing.

* * *

"Oh, well, what's your doctor's contact number? I can message them and ask," Winter offers with an innocent blink and a fingertip that trails down Royal's chest. Not to rekindle the fire of last night, necessarily. More just because now that Winter has license to touch him, it's difficult to stop. A bit more sincerely, they inquire, "How does it feel this morning?"

* * *

"Yes, messaging my doctor in an entirely professional capacity. Even though I'm not your patient." Royal smiles at Winter and watches their face. He really is completely unblemished. Not perfect, of course. Only cloned bodies and synths can do that, but he does take pains to present a good aesthetic. "It aches a touch. But that usually just means I've got to pop another pill or three. It's really in fine shape considering the doctor said if it had been much closer or on a higher setting, I'd be looking at a whole new arm." That bothers him, but he tries to smile and pass it off like it doesn't.

He watches Winter for a moment and then says, "May I ask you something?"

* * *

"Oof," Winter murmurs with a sympathetic wince. "A bit more than a sling and a graft." They glance up so their gaze can meet Royal's, their hand dropping down to rest on their blanket-covered leg. "Sure. What is it?"

* * *

Royal sits himself up and leans back against the padded backboard. He looks a bit…naughty before he asks the question, lips pulling up at the corner, eyebrows arching, "Presumably you've…done what we did last night in both male and female sleeves. Which do you prefer?"

* * *

"Oh, gosh," Winter muses, not sounding scandalized so much as like someone who's been asked to pick the one food they'd want to take with them on a desert island. They bend their legs and the knees so they can rest their arms on them as they consider. "You know, it genuinely depends on the sort of mood I'm in, what I feel like I want? The experiences are certainly different, but I wouldn't say I consider one to be the lesser."

* * *

"I can understand that," says Royal. He reaches out to tuck Winter's hair behind their ear. "After all, I enjoy both sides of the menu, myself. And I'm not sure I could say which I definitively prefer. I started out with women, but in my teens, I became obsessed with this boy a few years ahead of me at school. At first I thought I wanted to be his friend. But then I realized I wanted much more than that."

* * *

Winter makes a soft, intrigued sound before turning their head to press a quick kiss to Royal's palm. "And, did you get what you wanted?"

* * *

Royal chuckles and shakes his head. "No, no I did not. He wasn't interested. But I did try to kiss him while he was tutoring me." He looks down and pinkens the tiniest bit. "I don't often strike out, but I certainly did then. Fortunately he seemed flattered rather than upset. But that's when I knew it wasn't just the ladies that turned my head."

* * *

"So, who was your first boy, then, if it wasn't your school yard crush?" Winter asks. Their toes wiggle, making the blankets twitch a little.

* * *

"About four months later. It was…" Royal smiles and then makes a soft sound. "This is going to sound like I'm bragging terribly." He drops his hand to grip Winter's. His thumb moves over theirs. "But do you know the actor, Vince Jackson?" Vince is moderately well-known, but mostly these days for being the host of the best TBT releases of the week, in recap. He did once have a burgeoning theatre career, and a stint as a supporting role in a popular action franchise.

* * *

Winter's brows lift. "I know the name. I saw a couple of the Planetary Catastrophe series he was in when I was younger." Their fingers shift a little to gently squeeze Royal's. "Him? Really? Now you have to tell the story."

* * *

"Heh, well, it's entirely less impressive when I say I was at school with him. At the time, he was just very singularly into drama. It had gotten around that I'd…had a thing for the older boy. It wasn't that he went blabbing about, but I apparently I wasn't very subtle about my infatuation." Royal looks up at the ceiling and exhales at the memory of his younger self. "Oh, I should point out, I was at Eton." Which, despite dropping formal provisions as the concept of gender evolved and changed, still attracts primarily male-identifying students. "Which has a very rich history of homoeroticism."

* * *

"Ahh," Winter murmurs. They may never have been to England, but the name 'Eton School' still has a sort of imperial prestige everywhere, even if that might be all most other countries know about it. "So, young Vince Jackson heard that young Dante Taylor liked boys. Or, at least, one boy in particular. And he… propositioned you?"

* * *

"It was actually all rather romantic," Royal sits up a little more, leans in a bit conspiratorially and says, "He invited me backstage to run lines with him. He was in a different House, so we had only seen each other in passing in our earlier years. That year I became more interested in the theatre and had a small role. But the part he had me read wasn't his, you see. It was actually…not from our play at all. He'd found this rather risque script where one young lover was trying to convince the other to spend the night with him."

* * *

"Clever boy," Winter approves with a soft smile. "I think a ploy like that probably would have worked on me rather effectively. So, then what?"

* * *

"Yes, we were rather far down the pages before I realized what was happening," says Royal with a fond chuckle. "I was thinking, 'what a marvellous actor this Vince is!' But then he got closer. And we snogged for a good long while and were about to do more before a group of students came in to unload set pieces." He clears his throat. "If I had any doubts at all, they evaporated by the huge discomfort in my pants that I had to tamp down with a mid-afternoon cold shower." He shakes his head and grins. "My maths teacher never did know why I showed up at class with damp hair."

* * *

"Damp, curly hair," Winter amends, still smiling. "How lovely. And was that the last of young Vince, or did you have other trysts before school ended?"

* * *

"Oh, how much time do you have?" says Royal with a roll to his voice. But then he's looking at Winter quite seriously. "You have a way of getting me to talk about myself. Which, I do admit, comes fairly easily to me. But you've not told me many stories about you."

* * *

"It's a gift," Winter agrees, lifting a hand and buffing their fingernails against their shoulder before admiring them. "But, all right. What story would you like?"

* * *

"Yes, well, your job is to get people to talk about themselves, isn't it?" Royal says that fondly. But then the question makes his cheeks puff up. "Oh, that's a hard one. I suppose since we're on the topic of firsts. Tell me about your first…anything. Your choice."

* * *

"It's not only that," Winter says, "I like learning about people. It's… I don't know. Like going on safari, walking through someone else's world." They tap their fingers on their knee as they consider the request of 'firsts'. "My first sleeve, aside from my birth sleeve which I lost at stack implantation, was when I was sixteen… at least by the way I measured time. My parents had done their best to find a sleeve that looked like maybe I could have grown up into it, so male, around eighteen, dark hair, lighter eyes. It was… so strange." They huff a soft laugh. "Everyone says virtual can feel identical to physical experiences, and I think that's technically true. But it still felt so different, even if I couldn't say why. Minutes moved differently. The rhythm of my breathing was different. My skin felt different. I used to think that it must have been like what ancient astronauts felt, when they put on their space suits and went walking on the moon."

* * *

"I understand what you mean. Virtual doesn't feel identical to me. I mean, I could see how it could fool me, if I didn't know. But if I'm aware of it, I can find the details." And Royal in particular, with his affinity for patterns, is predisposed to subconsciously or consciously registering algorithms. "How…long did you stay in that sleeve?"

* * *

Winter gives a small nod of agreement. "The devil is in the details, isn't it? Especially when you're trying to ignore them." They quirk a slightly wry smile. "I made it three weeks, started covering the mirrors after the second, stopped coming out of VR by the fourth. That was a fight with my parents." They whistle softly and shake their head.

* * *

"So you altered yourself in virtual from the start? You didn't stick to a shape, or shapes?" Royal clearly wants to understand, even if it's all so outside of his relam of experience and of understanding.

* * *

"Not really, not once I realized I didn't have to," Winter replies, "and I honestly don't remember when I figured that out, so I must have been pretty young. Though when I was little it was more… weird stuff? Less focused. Kinda freaky."

* * *

"Children have the most…fascinating imaginations, so I can only imagine," says Royal. "Did you…do anything in virtual when you were younger? With someone else? Explorations in the digital realm?"

* * *

"Most of my sexual encounters have been in virtual, including my first," Winter replies, "not actually because of my neuro-elasticity. More because… I think people knew what to make of me in virtual. Or thought they did. In the physical world, not so much."

* * *

"And here's me, who has, despite my desire to dine from the buffet of life, never shagged in virtual. But I figured you would have guessed that. In fact," Royal leans forward, going nose-to-nose with Winter. "You were my first virtual kiss."

* * *

"I'm honored." They tip up their chin, taking a moment to see if they can steal a lazy, non-virtual kiss. "I think you prefer this sort, though."

* * *

"I'm more comfortable, certainly. Even if our activities would have been more fun had I not been forced to do everything one-handed." There's a bit of a wicked roll to Royal's words, suggesting more lewd things would have happened if he'd had both his limbs. He returns the kiss softly and with a bit of a rumble of a chuckle behind his lips. "But I haven't experienced virtual enough to say what I prefer."

* * *

"Big talk there, gimpy," Winter teases for the promise in his intonation, letting their lips brush against Royal's mouth as they speak. "I suppose the only thing to do is get more experience, then. So you can compare. …For science."

* * *

"Oy. No making fun of the terribly mangled and wounded," Royal mock-cradles his hurt arm with the good one, flashing doe-eyes as he does. "You'll just have to show me your virtual ways. Into a world of pure ima-gin-a-tion…" he actually sings those few words, "…as the ancient song goes."

* * *

"Oh!" Winter snaps their fingers, "I know that movie. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We watched it in college as part of a 'fantasy in film' class. I remember discussing the scene with the floaty soda and the fan, and that sleeve death was the same as real death in that time period, which was where the dramatic tension for the scene came from."

* * *

"Yes, that's the one. I learned about the song in the same old standards class. Specifically, how it sounded like it was written decades earlier than it actually was. Seems apt to describe virtual, don't you think? Though I do admit to being a little…concerned about what my mind were to come up with if given full control over an environment." Royal chuckles.

* * *

"I suppose in a way it is. Someone imagined up everything that exists there, either via programming or via use of that programming," Winter replies. A corner of their mouth quirks. "I wouldn't be concerned. More… intrigued. I'd like to see what you could create if you felt safe enough to let yourself."

* * *

"In case you haven't noticed, I rather prefer…control. Letting my subconscious dictate what my reality looks like seems like it could easily be nightmare fuel." Royal chuckles. Then he reaches back to very carefully unclip his sling. "My arm's got an awful kink in it. I'd like to carefully try to stretch it out."

* * *

"I promise not to grab and yank," Winter assures. After a beat, "On your arm." They consider as Royal eases his sling free. "I guess it could be unnerving. Or enlightening. Some cultures did it intentionally using drugs. They'd go on hallucinogenic travels to discover something about who they were."

* * *

"I was going to say, I don't want you to promise that." Royal grins widely. Slowly, he tries to move his arm, stretching it out to full length and twiddling his fingers. His face isn't contorting in pain, so that's a good sign. "Maybe I'm just afraid to know myself that well." He says that as a joke, but it has a ring of truth to it.

* * *

"Well, that's okay, too," Winter replies. Their hand slides gently down Royal's outstretched arm from shoulder to fingertips. "How's it feeling?"

* * *

"Stiff. And not in the fun way." That might just be one of Royal's patented dirty deflections. "A deep ache in the shoulder, but nothing too dramatic." He reaches up and peels back the adhesive bandage. Underneath is not a single scar or sign of surgery. In fact, the only sign that anything happened at all is that the newly-grafted clone skin is lighter, smoother, and unblemished. It's a rather wide area of paler skin, perhaps three or four inches across and about three inches high. The Sunjet really did do a number, but thanks to expensive medical care, it will one day soon be like it never happened. At least physically.

* * *

"Seems like it's coming along, then," Winter muses, though their gaze rests on that stretch of pale skin, perhaps imagining charred and ravaged flesh taking up the same amount of space not so very long ago. "That really was too close for comfort."

* * *

Indeed. Given the radius of the Sunjet, it wouldn't have taken much of a difference in angle for the blast to have hit him centre mass and very possibly damanged his heart and lungs - perhaps fatally. Royal slowly lower his arm to rest it along his leg. He rolls it experimentally, wincing a little, but that could be from stiffness. "I'm just glad to be out of that sling. It's really quite miserable trying to get through life one-handed."

* * *

"There's plenty of fun things that can be done one-handed," Winter teases, gaze on Royal's arm as it lowers and rolls. "But all things being equal, I'd keep with the two." They let a soft breath out. "I might be glad about Mick."

* * *

"That's only because you haven't met him yet. That man is a royal pain in…" he realizes what he just did there. He shakes his head and grins. "He's a pain. He's not even overprotective so much as he's…" he gestures with his good arm. "He's the kind of man who will take a bullet for you but never shut up about how the bullet was all your fault."

* * *

Winter grins widely for 'Royal pain', but doesn't really have to say anything. They both know. "Well, it's the keeping you safe bit that I appreciate most. But, he sounds rather like a lot of fun. So long as one isn't the focus of his irritation."

* * *

"Again, that's just because you haven't met him." Royal exhales and leans back against the headboard. "He made me leave the hospital soon after the second surgery because he didn't think the wing was secure enough. I asked him to pass me my clothes, and he threw them at me. When my jacket fell onto the floor, he walked on it." So terrible! What a horrible human being to do that to fine clothes. "It was a silk jacket."

* * *

"Monstrous," Winter agrees. Or says, anyway. They shift to rest against the headboard as well, and then shimmy down a little to lean sideways and settle their cheek against Royal's good shoulder. "Is he good at what he does?"

* * *

Royal rolls his eyes, "Frustratingly so. And he has agreed, at least in principle, to help with my investigation. And I fully admit that his expertise could come in handy." He says that grudgingly. "I warn you," he turns to look at Winter. "He very likely might cramp our style. And expect that he will run a background check on you."

* * *

Winter blinks slowly for that last, but after a moment only nods. "I don't think he'll find anything he disapproves of," is what they settle on. "And if he's handy and will keep you safe, I can accept some style cramping."

* * *

"We'll be quite fortunate if it's limited to 'some,'" says Royal with a sigh. "It's a pity. I was quite enjoying my freedom. I should have known it wouldn't last forever."

* * *

"I'll see what I can do," Winter replies. "You have a life here, you should be allowed to keep some of it intact. It's not all alleyway chases and Sunjets."