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A Casual Conversation
[It turns out, to Nick's chagrin, that programming a whole new VR sensory interface isn't quite as easy as hacking into a high security terminal. It requires a wealth of creative thinking that Nick, in particular, doesn't excel at. Ever since the conversation came up, though, Nick's has had the idea of trying out a new body mod, and maybe doubling each other for the fun of it, taking up considerable real-estate in the back of his head.
Surprisingly, though, after enlisting Dr. Amari to assist him with bits of the programming, Nick's interest in this little project shifted a bit to the left. Sure, he wanted to indulge in new sensation, wanted to see what it was like to be human, to play catcher, to maybe have a duplicate self (or partner) available, but the deeper he got into the code, the more other aspects started to shine.
To get duplicates working, for instance, required being able to clone perception. Nick could do that, given how he had backup files of himself on hand, but how was he supposed to do that with a human? Amari could give him baselines for real living people so Nick could blend the experience for himself, but...could he run a human through the opposite? Filter them through his experience? Turned out, accomplishing both of those was about the same level of pain in the ass and Nick, well, he was intrigued.
Hancock had waded through his busted old memories like he was walking in the park, had rolled through synth perception like he was taking in a lightshow. Nick was sure he could handle this--it wasn't going to be as deep or foundational, not as abstract, and that ought to make it easier, right?
It would be...very different. Hancock would probably agree to do it, both because he was usually game for radical shifts in mental faculties and...because it would be Nick doing the asking.
Nick wasn't sure, however, that he should ask.
Nick, well, he wasn't exactly the best gague of what was and was not addictive. He hadn't even had an ID to assuage until pretty recently, but even before he'd had an ID, he'd gotten hooked on the rush of crashing. After a hundred years without more than the stray dance here and there, Hancock had him utterly invested, enough that he'd already gotten one body mod and was eyeing a second. It was a little self-absorbed to think that his experience was so superior, but Nick practically ran on worry. What if his own climax actually was that much more of an endorphin hit? It could be risky business running someone else through that, especially someone with an addictive personality.
Although, by that same token, it could be risky running himself through an accurate template of the organic perception. Not just running through the vague amalgam of records on hand, but through a modern, accurate set of guidelines. That...could be complicated...but Nick was designed to absorb templates, to install and remove stuff like that. That gave him a leg up...right?
He was still mulling over the ethical concerns in this whole shindig when he finally finished the coding suite. Once he had, Nick came to the conclusion that, ultimately, the decision about whether Hancock should or should not do something wasn't his to make. Just because it was an option on the menu didn't mean he'd choose to use it, and even if he did port his perception through Nick's experience, Hancock was a better judge of what he could handle than Nick could ever be. Hancock trusted him to tap out if it was too much and Nick just had to do the same.
He was relieved to settle the unexpected, impromptu ethical dilema so easily. Unfortunately, Nick was still stuck with another material complication. How in the hell did he just...bring this up in casual conversation?]
How is it that I manage to get a call for every runaway pet in the wasteland?
[Nick is exhausted (insofar as he can be). The last few errands they'd run (routing a few raiders, delivering a package, rescuing a cat from a tree and returning it to its owner) had been unusually grueling. The first rule of the wasteland was a constant, they got sidetracked every few steps, but the sidetracking didn't usually lead to more sidetracking. As is, Nick is glad to see Goodneighbor in the distance.
He's even more glad that he no longer has to carry a livid pampered house-cat through supermutant territory.]
Surprisingly, though, after enlisting Dr. Amari to assist him with bits of the programming, Nick's interest in this little project shifted a bit to the left. Sure, he wanted to indulge in new sensation, wanted to see what it was like to be human, to play catcher, to maybe have a duplicate self (or partner) available, but the deeper he got into the code, the more other aspects started to shine.
To get duplicates working, for instance, required being able to clone perception. Nick could do that, given how he had backup files of himself on hand, but how was he supposed to do that with a human? Amari could give him baselines for real living people so Nick could blend the experience for himself, but...could he run a human through the opposite? Filter them through his experience? Turned out, accomplishing both of those was about the same level of pain in the ass and Nick, well, he was intrigued.
Hancock had waded through his busted old memories like he was walking in the park, had rolled through synth perception like he was taking in a lightshow. Nick was sure he could handle this--it wasn't going to be as deep or foundational, not as abstract, and that ought to make it easier, right?
It would be...very different. Hancock would probably agree to do it, both because he was usually game for radical shifts in mental faculties and...because it would be Nick doing the asking.
Nick wasn't sure, however, that he should ask.
Nick, well, he wasn't exactly the best gague of what was and was not addictive. He hadn't even had an ID to assuage until pretty recently, but even before he'd had an ID, he'd gotten hooked on the rush of crashing. After a hundred years without more than the stray dance here and there, Hancock had him utterly invested, enough that he'd already gotten one body mod and was eyeing a second. It was a little self-absorbed to think that his experience was so superior, but Nick practically ran on worry. What if his own climax actually was that much more of an endorphin hit? It could be risky business running someone else through that, especially someone with an addictive personality.
Although, by that same token, it could be risky running himself through an accurate template of the organic perception. Not just running through the vague amalgam of records on hand, but through a modern, accurate set of guidelines. That...could be complicated...but Nick was designed to absorb templates, to install and remove stuff like that. That gave him a leg up...right?
He was still mulling over the ethical concerns in this whole shindig when he finally finished the coding suite. Once he had, Nick came to the conclusion that, ultimately, the decision about whether Hancock should or should not do something wasn't his to make. Just because it was an option on the menu didn't mean he'd choose to use it, and even if he did port his perception through Nick's experience, Hancock was a better judge of what he could handle than Nick could ever be. Hancock trusted him to tap out if it was too much and Nick just had to do the same.
He was relieved to settle the unexpected, impromptu ethical dilema so easily. Unfortunately, Nick was still stuck with another material complication. How in the hell did he just...bring this up in casual conversation?]
How is it that I manage to get a call for every runaway pet in the wasteland?
[Nick is exhausted (insofar as he can be). The last few errands they'd run (routing a few raiders, delivering a package, rescuing a cat from a tree and returning it to its owner) had been unusually grueling. The first rule of the wasteland was a constant, they got sidetracked every few steps, but the sidetracking didn't usually lead to more sidetracking. As is, Nick is glad to see Goodneighbor in the distance.
He's even more glad that he no longer has to carry a livid pampered house-cat through supermutant territory.]
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[ Give him a second his imagination is doing... things. Man, he could rerun all his favorite roleplays, remix the details. The possibilities are extremely enticing to envision-- especially with those explicit options on hand. Making a functional copy of himself, huh? That... did not go so well that time. But that was a broken, malfunctioning copy made by accident.
And Hancock is certain he can trust Nick (and by extension, Amari) not to let the same Terrible Thing happen to them all twice. ]
Do I wanna try it? Hell, only thing I'm stuck on is what to try first: switching to a synth filter or operating with a copy.
[ Goodneighbor's Mayor offers a friendly-enough wave to Kle0 and Daisy as he and Nick stroll through the gate into civilization proper. The neighborhood watch and a guy who is Definitely Not Deacon all offer gruff nods of greeting as Hancock and Nick drift through the front of town in the direction of Neon Flats. Yeah, he is trying to gas Nick up, (Nick deserves it) but he's also being honest about hardly knowing where to start. ]
You got a preference on what ya wanna show off first? Part'a me kinda wants to try everything all at once, but seems like ya put a lot of work into this, so feels like I gotta appreciate each switch individually before seein' what happens if I flip em all at once, dig?
[ Making a synth copy of himself in VR does sound like something worth doing, but he does indeed want to appreciate the individual mechanics of Nick's digital soiree services before he starts using them all at once. He'll try 'running with a copy of himself' and 'running as a synth' individually before mixing that particular combination of experiences together. ]
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Then, Hancock goes and asks him that.
Does he have a preference?]
I can't really test the dual controls myself, I can just sort of...do that. No real interface required. But ever since Amari checked it out I've wanted to see if I got that whole suite working right.
[He's being a bit cautious about suggesting that first thing. He's not insensitive to the calamity that was the last duplicate, but he's made utterly certain that this whole shebang operates under his brain's control without the possibility of a vice versa situation. Nick could have flubbed the split-screen, the dual controls, the (metaphorical) cup-holders, but he damned sure set up the heirarchy and security protocols right.
Not that he's going to brag about that. Instead, he offers a reserved assurance or two.]
Might be a bit trippy, controlling two people at the same time, but I meant it to be like handing you a fancy puppet. If it ends up veering to one side or another, gets nerve-wracking? We end program, I scrap the suite, and then I start over. No harm, no foul. Definitely no bodysnatchers.
[He promises. For either of them.
His last question is posed casually but it has a sort of breathless anticipation to it, like Nick's just asked if he wanted to try his favorite roller coaster. In a way, he supposes, he has. He's invested in this going well, more than he should be really, and his poker face isn't quite enough to hide that.]
That sound alright to you?
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That, and the ghoul's got sympathy for Nick's proclivities; he had already mentioned his interest in being doubled, Hancock's swiss-cheese brain had held tight onto that little tidbit of intel. If it's Nick's first (though notably, cautious) suggestion?
Hancock would wager there's a slight chance that fantasy has been haunting his fiancé, and killing Nick's cravings makes Hancock a merry murdered indeed. ]
Like the brass on checkin out the Duplicate option first, make sure everything's operating optimally and user friendly. Because yeah, I don't want to rerun the bodysnatchers thing. Might as well check that off the list first
Plus, I do recall something you mentioned ya might be interested in tryin, night of the Promposal? Somethin that works better with two of me. Guess I can be gracious and kill two stones with one bird. Check two boxes, heh.
[ For the amount of violence-hippie-ghouls packed into Goodneighbor, the town is not terribly huge; by the time Nick and Hancock are passing through the narrow alleyways that link the storefronts to the meat of the town, they are already most of the way to their apartment building. Hancock spares a quick glance this way and that, checking the scum hasn't gathered up in the gutters-- but it's just the usual friendly townies and drifters, soaking in the pleasant evening. ]
Think you said somethin... about likin me taller than you. That somethin' your fancy program can manage?
[ He's teasing Nick a little now, as though that would be the aspect worthy of mischievous prodding, and not the notion of two of the ghoul spit-roasting a not-synth. ]
'Cuz I'm getting the distinct feeling there's an itch I can scratch for ya here, and I just so happen to be in an indulgent mood... [ He's never not in an indulgent mood when it comes to Nick, but that's besides the point. He's reminding Nick he hasn't forgotten what the synth asked for; he's highlighting his own tantric delight in fulfilling Nick's desires. ]
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For a given value of aflutter.]
I was hoping you'd say that.
[Nick has another surprise lined up, part and parcel of this memory pod suite. He can change Hancock's height, easy as, but he can also tamper with himself. That is, tamper more than what he'd originally written this for.
He's worn a few different faces while inside one or the other of their heads, or loaded up into VR. The most popular face so far is a tie. It's an even split between this face and Nick the former. Nick's fond of both faces of course, theyre both him, but for this little escapade he crafted something new.
He needed a human face and body to go with the experience, so he'd made one. Tried to keep it true to the current mug he's wearing, of course, but...human. Overall, Nick thought he did a decent job of it, but he hopes Hancock agrees when he sees him.
It'd be damn awkward if he took one look and passed on the whole thing.]
I can't quite scratch this one myself.
[The lobby of Neon flats is just ahead and Nick looks--well, to most people, somber and thoughtful. But the little touches of joy and excitement are adding up. He ain't about to run for it, but this time, he does get the door for Hancock.]
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[ Solo jams are fun for sure, but don't quite jive the same as a sweet duo collaboration; Hancock gets that, but he's still going to slide over that little tease, just for the gratification of the idea. Every time Hancock had been in a room (or something like that) with more than one Nick, things had been far too dire to even consider a possible tangent into anything like a Sexy Party.
He's certainly considering the colorful idea (at least aesthetically) now.
The ghoul flashes a teasing smirk and flares the sides of his coat in an approximation of a curtsy as Nick so chivalrously gets the door for him. ]
Mighty kind'a ya
[ He laves on the gratitude with an accompanying sultry shadow stare as he steps inside proper. Had they been running around doing bullshit sidequests all day? Because Hancock feels downright peppy. How could he not feel thusly jazzed when Nick has conjured up another creative carnal carnival for them to enjoy together? ]
I'll never argue the classics-- I like that ya know my favorite flowers, and the first song we ever danced to, but your proclivity for goin' above and beyond in the romance depart never ceases to amaze
[ He puts his back to the elevator and swings a hand behind himself to hit the call button, smirk softening subtle-sweet as his synth paramour approaches. ]
We just gunna keep tryin' to out-do each other, back and forth, until the end of days? Feel like I could really get behind that idea...
[ He 'casually' rests a hand across the ruffles of his own shirt, just so happening to bring his wedding band into Nick's line of sight as he touches the radiant metal with his leathered thumb. ]
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Hancock poses in front of the elevator, demure and smirking, and showing off that ring. Nick can't help but crowd up next to him, standing too close to qualify as reasonable, basking in that subtle sweet smirk as they wait for the elevator.]
Sounds like a great time to me. I'm sure there's an upper limit and all, but I certainly can't see it yet.
[Snow is on point today, and the elevator is quicker than either of them expect. The doors open before they've so much as gotten embarassing in the lobby. With a casual ease, Nick rests his skeletal hand on Hancock's hip and walks him back into the elevator. His good hand hits the button for the floor below theirs.
Amused, before the doors even close, Nick asks:]
You're already scheming about how you're going to one up this, aren't you?
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[ He walks back beneath Nick's lead on his hip, drawing the synth with him until his back bumps the wall of the elevator. His ghoulish dark vision makes Nick's halo-glow eyes especially striking in the dim of the small space and Hancock feels an invisible bolt of excitement ricochet through him. ]
Oh yeah [ he all but purrs, peering up at Nick from beneath the brim of his hat. His head cants and he makes a point of showing his gaze drip down like an oil spill to Nick's mouth. ]
Several contingencies percolatin' as we speak. Three different options involving hand cuffs, an extension cord, and those amps we got on the Party Floor
[ Even odds on if Hancock is being completely serious, or simply pulling wild ideas from the chaos-ether of his mind for dramatic effect. Whether he's got the seeds just now, or a whole pre-grown garden of Eden in store is anyone's guess. ]
Gotta see exactly what I'm One-Upping here, before I hammer out the final details, cross the I's and dot the T's, feel me?
[ his hands ghost lightly up Nick's arms and slide back down, deliberately savoring the proximity of his paramour, the freedom to communicate his affections (and hungers) in such brazen touches. There's a subtle charge to the ghoul's energy-- a soft but smoldering excitement to see exactly the results of what Nick has cooked up for them to share in. Should he be slightly more cautious, considering past events? Probably.
Does John Hancock have risk taking and indulgence issues? That's a solid fuck yes.]
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Gotta know what the ante is before you up it? Fair enough.
[In the privacy of the elevator ride, Nick feels a little freer to express his own pride, a little more comfortable preening under the compliments his fiancee doles out. He's keeping his cool though, simply absorbing the space in frotn of Hancock as the elevator goes up. He's too excited to let himself get distracted at the finish line.]
Can't wait to hear the rave reviews, honestly.
[The elevator comes to a slow and opens up on the party floor. The whole space is the same as it had been on Prom Night, save that the balloons and decorations have been cleaned and packed up. The room to the side, what was meant to be a bedroom in the original layout, is what Nick converted for memory pod use. It notably doesn't have a door.
The pods are hooked up, powered on, and practically spit-polished they're gleaming so nicely. Nick kickstarts the terminal that runs them and is practically humming a tune as he loads up the appropriate programs.]
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Ah but Hancock is distracting himself, here. ]
Uh-huh, if it's one thing I always do right, it's the math on how many decent crashes I owe ya
[ He chuckles like maple-cinnamon whiskey at Nick's comment about rave reviews; if the synth is this stoked to show off? So proud, in his own subtle way? Hancock is already anticipating fireworks, and Nick never disappoints him. ]
Guess I should be careful not to puff up that grandiose ego'a yours-- but yeah, ya can probably expect at least a 5 star rating
[ He warmly and sarcastically teases his tickled fiancée as Nick strolls towards the terminal, more or less humming, and types in the various activation commands. Hancock does quite appreciate the lack of a door on the off-shoot of the Prom Room, it puts to rest any nagging ghosts of distress that could be rustled into unrest. This floor feels much safer, softer and warmer under the light cast from the fondest memories Hancock has. ]
Ya know, most people wanna try a threesome? They just find another guy. This... don't wanna jump the gun or nothin, but this is feelin' like a step up. What're ya tryin' to do, outclass every other John in the Wasteland? You're succeeding, ease on the throttle already
[ It's all utterly affectionate teasing; just a vehicle to drive his enticed excitement for the adventure Nick planned for them. There's barely a minute blip of caution to his actions as he approaches the ajar Memory Pod, eyes it for half a second, and then climbs inside. ]
... Hey, your program require us bein' in two different pods? Kinda lonely in here...
[ Would two bodies in a pod be squished? Yes. Can Hancock manage this without a buddy? Also yes.
But Hancock's recently had a worse time in these things being plugged in (locked in) alone. It's a small detail to sweat and he can certainly shelf it-- he does trust that Nick took every precaution to make this safe. But, well... never hurts to ask?]
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With a small flourish, Nick engages the program and steps away. He heads for Hancock's pod, rather than the second one, and jostles a bit so he can fit alongside his paramour. They end up with Nick spilling out of Hancock's lap, legs tangled along with the bottom of his coat, hats slightly ajar. They're a sight, cramed into that one pod, but if they hold each other, they fit just fine.
Nick wouldn't have it any other way.
He doesn't actually have time to reassure Hancock, not once he's climbed in. The program is already running and Nick pulls the lid down with him. It hooks both of them and loads them in immediately and Nick's vision blanks before loading in with his new parameters.
He'd set these fancy functions to work on a command, but at the moment there wasn't any need. He'd loaded those up along with the program the moment they stepped into the room. Nick manifests as a human and, in a second, Hancock should manifest as himself in tandem. Nick blinks, bleary eyed for the first time in his life, and takes a good long look at the lines and decorations of their apartment--or the digital version, at least. Snow helped with this and, he's gotta say, it looks just as good to him now as it did when he first saw the place.
Hancock loads in a second later and, despite Nick's eagerness to show off, to get an opinion on the design aspects of this particular place, he's nothing if not dramatic. He's perusing the container of records by the console turntable he'd added to the apartment, picking out music, when Hancock manifests. From behind, Nick cuts his usual silhouette--in fact, he looks almost identical to his real world self--excepting, of course, that he's got ears. And hair.]
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Then the lid shuts, the program activates, and his senses are effectively highjacked. In that moment, suspended between worlds, some stray back-burner thought occurs: he hopes this divide doesn't feel too... jarring. The last thing he wants to feel threatened by another copy of himself. But he shouldn't-- that was an accident of repression, Nick built this data suite specifically, with deliberate intention. It should be safe. It shouldn't split him apart in ways he wasn't meant to divide.
He hadn't really expected one setting or another-- but the fact that Nick picked Home when he could have imagined Anywhere to begin this endeavor is... very darling. Very sweet, and exactly the kind of romantic Hancock is becoming a sucker for. It paints up how much Nick cherishes having their home together, the realization whirling around the ghoul (and not a ghoul) like a friendly summer breeze. ]
Could be anywhere, and ya just wanna be home? Jeez, meltin' my heart over here...
[ From behind it is only those two (distinctly different) details that depart Nick from his usual appearance, so it takes Hancock a moment to catch the variance amid admiring the reconstruction of their home. He had imagined Nick adopting one of the faces from their previous digital escapades, none of which have a form cut like his synth-self, but flesh-ears and hair. This... must be something new? ]
Hold on, ya make yourself a new Sona for us? Lemme see!
[ The hand that touches Nick's shoulder first is distinctly smooth, though still adorned with Hancock's wedding band. The eyes that peer upwards at Nick (from a couple inches lower than usual) are mossy natural green behind messy blond tendrils. His grin is so much the same, curious and enticed and pleased and just slightly craven. His gaze is easy to track as he examines Nick's designs, free hand floating to appreciatively touch the side of Nick's face. ]
Ya look fantastic, Nick. Always gunna have a soft spot for the classic model -that's Synth You, to be clear- but this is... pretty wild. Looks like... hell, looks like you! But, not Older You? Like a New You. I like it, ya make one damn handsome human
Not gunna disagree exactly, but I'm gunna have to get creative without all those sweet tattered edges to taste...
[ The height of the softly Glowing ghoul behind Nick makes it criminally easy for him to slide his arms around his future-husband's shoulders, and draw the (warm, flesh-scented, heart-beating, mouth-watering) human against his chest. Thankfully Nick's program is sophisticated enough to filter out the realism of radiation burns-- instead the Glowing One just feels hot to the touch, like he's running a fever that would switch a human off. ]
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Nick looks up in surprise and nearly loses his hat in the process. It knocks his dark hair askew and, immediately, he tries to blow it out of his face. It doesn't work.
Hancock wasn't just a teenager, he was split into Super Ego and Id--but this wasn't the drunk on power edition, he still had the phantom links of chains rattling around, just out of sight. Nick breathes a little easier at that realization and twists a little to look at both of them. This...wasn't exactly how he'd pictured this but...he can't deny the appeal.]
I..uh...didn't mean for that to happen, I must have split the cognition too far. [Oh but that sounded awful--content wise, that is. Nick's chosen voice here is a carbon copy of his usual one, a feature none of his composite parts shared. Nick grimaces and then offers up a lopsided, tentative smile--first to Super Ego, then to Id.]
My mistake--if it bothers you, I can climb out and fix it--
[But Super Ego is right there, hands holding his face, and Nick...he doesn't really want to climb out and it shows in the way he leans into those hands, and the gentle, besotted look he gives the blonde in front of him. He's never felt warm and soft like this--temperature and pressure, yeah, but this is something else--he wants Hancock to just hold him like this forever, if possible.]
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[ The shorter aspect seems sheepish, sparing his free hand to try and push his hair out of his face for a moment before abandoning the task entirely, and locking his hands on either side of Nick's neck. Those expressive mossy eyes are all awe and adoration, soaking in every new and yet Not New detail Nick has composed around himself. All his love and appreciation shines through this aspect like a stage-light, and Nick is the star of his show. ]
Besides, you leavin means I'd have to let ya go... that's the last thing I wanna do now that you're here...
[ That emerald silk growl precedes the humid trace of Hancock's tongue along the shell of Nick's ear; one of these aspects has some chill, the other does not. At least the younger presenting aspect has the good grace to look slightly sheepish (with a dusting of rose-dusk blush) while his counterpart grazes his teeth down the side of Nick's neck and squeezes the warm (comparatively) supple human possessively against his chest. ]
Heh, sorry, he, uh, we... like how ya taste. Ya know The Word if ya want me to tug his leash...
[ One smooth-skinned hand drifts back up to Nick's cheek, angled just so the not-ghoul can trace his thumb along that zero-percent silicone bottom lip. His gaze gets humid like an overgrown Arizona swamp where he is both the soft dewy ferns and the lurking hungry gators. ]
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That soft pretty face, mossy eyes and ragged hair, is staring at him with such adoration that Nick can't hardly find words. This Hancock looks so young to Nick--and he is, but he's also not--not anymore than Nick is forty-five or however old this face ended up looking. (He's a terrible judge.) Nick's just finding his way around to thinking when that curl of ghoulish growling drags itself up Nick's spine. The mouth on his ear is certainly something--but even in this body, Nick's still got a sensitive neck.]
Oh--okay--
[Nick's voice is laced with pleased surprise until that thumb slides warm over his lip and those emerald eyes are closer. This aspect may have some chill, but Nick's more on Id's page at the moment. The feel of that thumb against his lips is so different and tingles so strangely compared to how he normally feels--and Hancock's mouth is right there for the kissing. Nick leans in and catches his lips--the motion is soft, just how he does it as a synth, but without the synth strength to back it up it's got a delicacy to it.
Stretching forward like that just exposes more of his neck for the ghoul at his back and Nick can't think of any reason he'd be trying to avoid that. The heat pouring off Id is soaking into him in a way he's never experienced--warming him down to his bones, though his coat and clothes, like he's a sun-lamp on high. Sunbathing makes so much more sense to him now, but that doesn't matter--
What matters is Nick's hands settling on Super Ego's face, both warm, both flesh covered, one with a wedding band wrapped around it. He smooths his thumbs over the young man's cheeks and pulls him in for another, less delicate kiss. He already feels drunk on this--he'd been right to be worried about addiction, but foolish to think that it was Hancock who was at risk here.]
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In that brief interlude his hand (with a glimmer of that metal band) drifts up and touches his own mouth, like he's confused how his own skin could register such highly defined sensations.
Behind Nick the towering ghoul aspect gives a wordless growl of appreciation as more skin is bared for the pleasures of his carnal (not quite carnivorous) consumption. His hands bite at the fabric of Nick's clothing, haul the synth-made-human back where there is not an inch closer for them to be; his summer-scalding lips graze down the side of Nick's neck (along exactly where a shorn edge should be) and his teeth clip and press the flesh until it turns flushed-fever-pink and saliva-slick. ]
Fuck are you gunna look gorgeous covered in bruises and my teeth marks...
[ The nuanced growling is poured against those fresh bites as Nick draws his human paramour into a kiss that is less chaste. The pair that is Hancock moves together, synchronized in concentration and intent like two separate people couldn't possibly hope to achieve.
The slighter aspect folds himself against Nick's chest where he fits so well, free hand splaying fingers so he can feel that human heart beat. He returns the kiss with his tender awe at a low-burning simmer, lost easily in the simple sensations of brushing, pressing lips. Meanwhile, the Glowing ghoul impatiently dips back and starts peeling off that fancy detective's coat. ]
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Id draws back just so to pull it off and a shiver has gooseflesh rising on the kissmarked nape of his neck. It's briefly cold but only briefly. Hancock's got a talent for teasing, but he never leaves Nick wanting. That heat against his back returns and Nick presses back against it, pulling the younger aspect with. His fingertips read things so differently than he's used to--it's like lightning in fog--the storm of sensation is there, everpresent, but it obscures until suddenly it doesn't and everything is brought into one piece of focus.
Super Ego's palm against his chest, bracing against his new, racing heart--then a miasma of warmth and familiarity--then the bite of teeth against his ear and a growling cadence that spills over him. Snow can't quite manage to implant subtitles behind his eyes this time around, but the hazy ones on the inside of his eyelids are working well enough.
Nick had figured that it would be different, using contemporary templates rather than pre-war recordings, but he didn't figure it would be this different. All at once he's elated and struck with a pang of despair at just how much of Nick the original was lost to time. The thought is fleeting, driven away by the sunbaked heat of a hand and the romantic tenderness of another.
Nick's lungs are burning before long and the sensation is so deeply unusual that it takes him a moment to figure it out. Fortunately, this new template doesn't really need his input to go about correcting things. Nick has to break from their kissing to suck down a breath--the oxygen hits like a drug, tipping him into lightheadedness--and he lets out a debauched chuckle.]
I see you got the hang of yours--mine--[Nick has to breathe deep a moment.]--Gimme another minute or two and I'll get used to it.
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Without Nick's coat the towering fellow returns with the inevitability of a tide; his rougher, larger, calescent hands slither around Nick's front, jam between him and Super Ego, and start to brutishly tug open any buttons he finds. His strength, set next to a pair of humans, is monstrously staggering; he could rip off Nick's clothing like tissue paper, if something in the entire ghoul didn't want to show Nick the feeling of clothing peeled off skin. ]
Just a minute, huh?
Sure
We can figure out somethin to pass the time
[ Considering these are the two aspects that butt heads the most, it's a testament to Nick's programming that they manifest so cohesively; they are separate but Not, two sides of one coin that has been impossibly doubled. They are Hancock, they just don't have to alchemize their desires into one cohesive action; they don't have to compromise with each other. Hancock can both kiss Nick soft and sweet and deep, and sink his teeth into the tempting yield of goose-bumped skin at his throat.
He can paint his paramour in bruises and kiss him breathless at once.
Or Id and Super Ego can take advantage of their rare agreement, and each settle at either side of Nick's throat.
The ghoul has to bend down as much as the human has to steal some height propped on the balls of his feet; they move at once, eerily synchronized. The teenaged aspect's kisses are softer, reverent, affectionate; his bites betwixt those brushes of lips are teasing and playful.
The ghoul's bites are sharp, demanding, hungry. He peppers a kiss here and there amid the ravenous scrapes of his teeth. ]
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The feeling of blood rising in flesh almost makes Nick sad he doesn't have any. The heat of it, drawn to the surface, the tingling ache, even the bright frission of pain illuminating his nerves is divine. He made this humansona pale as it was meant to resemble his synth self so red marks and bruises rise almost eagerly along Id's path. His lips are flush from even Super Ego's soft kissing.
And, most mortifying of all, when they both turn their attention on his neck, the blush that rises hot on his face is instantly apparent. When he tries to speak, to lessen the impact of this sudden stimulation, Nick's human voice isn't as unaffected as he expects. He sounds rough and wanting and that just intensifies that latent blush.]
You're lapping me here--[An accidental and atrocious pun chased by what was meant to be a chuckle but ended out more as a hoarse groan.] Damn.
[Id is pulling apart his shirt--mostly metaphorically but one or two buttons don't survive the ghoul's unabashed eagerness. Nick's not even sure what to do with his hands, flanked as he is. He decides to rest one on the small of Super Ego's back and uses the other, the hand with his wedding ring, to loosen the knot of his tie. He doesn't usually wear his shirts buttoned all the way up, but he had done with this representation. He ends up slipping his hand up beneath his paramour(s) so he can undo those top two buttons and pull his collar through.
An orderly task gives Nick something to focus on--to marshall his thoughts--but the moment he accomplishes it he slides right back into the stark inkblot contrast of Hancock the human, tender and adoring, and Hancock the glowing one, burning up and devouring like a rad storm. His attention flips back and forth between them and Nick is glad, all at once, that he picked somewhere familiar to set this tableau. He didn't have the spare bandwidth (metaphorical) to acknowledge where they were.
Hell he barely has the bandwidth to remember breathing--which, by the way, he should do. Id helps him out, bites sharply on a tender spot, and Nick gasps.]
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That don't exactly sound like a complaint [ The blond drawls, lips shaping the words he drips down the kiss-flush slick slope of Nick's neck; he sits back just enough to gaze into Nick's eyes but the sight of that brilliant blush turns his adoration a shade sultry. However it's the ghoul, still sieging that soft peach-flesh skin with bites, who growls in savoring appreciation of the vision. ]
Certainly don't -look- like you're complainin'
[ With the definition of Short King candor, the youngest aspect levels a lightly lording lurid leer at his fatally flushed paramour and smiles with the silent promise of blissful menace. His palms slot snug against Nick's jaw on either side, and his fine fingers span too delicately, deliberately over the sizzling stains beneath Nick's perfectly pale skin. His appreciation gets humid and hazy watching Nick gasp beneath the sting of his ghoulish self's bite. ]
Oh yeah, this is a real good look for ya, Slick. Blushin so bright and gaspin under my teeth
[ Those fingers fanned across Nick's cheeks stiffen and steer the not-sythn's face a fraction to the left, and then right whilst those pale modavite eyes overflow with almost artistic adoration. ]
Gunna need a second to appreciate the view
[ Meanwhile, Nick's shirt comes off easily enough, without the tie. It barely gets ripped at all beneath Id's impatient unwrapping technique; he wants more skin to taste but he wants to return to those already blooming bruises and see how dark he can make those purple petals beneath his teeth. How far will Nick's masochisms run in a human body?
The radiant ghoul slides his hands around his fiancée's front and holds him fiercely, possessively, as though they could not possibly be close enough together. ]
Good thing I can multitask
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His appreciation of that fact is shunted aside as teeth and tongue fix against the side of his neck. Hancock takes initiative, trying to darken the ruddy, spotted flush of Nick's neck, and Nick lets out the most debauched sound as he does. The sweet ache of flesh, left to be tender and recover, prodded too soon, is not something he expected. It's a great surprise but if Nick thought blushing was embarassing, the way he swoons back against the superheated bulk behind him is beyond the pale.
Like some old timey rich dame, Nick actually does swoon. His hand reaches back and grabs blindly at the ghoul behind him, eventually fitting his fingers around the back of his neck. Nick's not trying to pull him away, though--quite the opposite. His knees go a little weak and the room is spinning, and suddenly he's sagging back into Hancock like someone slugged him.
Distantly, he realizes that this isn't something he'll live down--and then he remembers that this is Hancock, who's never been anything but delighted while overwhelming him. Nick blinks at the blonde edition, at those pretty grass colored eyes, and looks like he plans on saying something sassy--whatever it is never actually leaves his mouth as Id behind him bites hard on that same bruised flesh, turing pink and red to black and blue and making Nick see stars.]
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If Nick-the-synth so happened to swoon for Hancock-the-ghoul, the wasteland beast of a man could catch his paramour, metal frame and all, without being crushed, easy. As is, the ghoul feels a powerful rush from the ease he expends in catching Nick's lighter, warmer, softer human form against his broad chest. It's like he barely weighs a thing, an aspect falling in line nicely with the old timey rich dame vibe. ]
Shhhh, darlin'
We gocha
[ Hands just hotter than sunbaked concrete snake around Nick's waist, one locked around the front of his stomach while the other braces up the front of his fiancée's chest. He holds Nick on his feet almost effortlessly-- in fact most of his effort is angled not to squeeze too hard. The ghoul's mouth wanders with idle curiosity, drifting down to the crook where Nick's neck meets his shoulder. ]
Lookin' a little flushed there Slick... feelin' kinda toasty? Here, lemme give ya a hand...
[ The blond teen makes the offer but he takes his time with it, perhaps to tease, perhaps to allow Nick the organic indulgence of catching his breath.
His hands drift down from Nick's face, ghost those brutal bruises, slide down his chest and lower still as the young man casually lowers himself to his haunches and then drops abruptly the rest of the way to his knees. His expression is devotion more than deviousness, but still somewhere between them, as he admires all the ways Nick's pleasures play across his newest form.
His motions are slow by design to savor each action as he leans forward, and catches the leather of Nick's belt at the buckle with his teeth. ]
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When he made this body, he'd done it in his usual meticulous detail. He was a little vain and, being that he generally looked like a shoe in need of polish, he'd really gone all in making this shape look precisely how he wanted. Now, by in large, all the detail that Nick is most proud of is too small, too banal to really register for most people--he's svelte, not particularly muscular, and the general shape of him aligns almost perfectly with his synth body, sans the various seams and holes littered throughout. Those little touches though, a mole here or there, a smattering of faint freckles, even the slight pucker of an old healed gut wound, they make him seem like...just some guy.
Nick looks painfully normal like this, that was his whole goal, but he must have goofed up somewhere.
With Hancock's gold hair and moss colored eyes framed against his stomach, Nick feels gorgeous by association. He can't tear his eyes away from the human edition as he drops down like that--and when he takes Nick's belt by the teeth and tugs, well. Nick was either prone to lightheadedness or Hancock was a real casanova. If he weren't being held upright with the greatest of ease (a feature he has to put a pin in for later) he'd be swooning again as all his blood rushes out of his skull.
Nick's never waited with baited breath before, on account of not generally needing to breathe, but he's right there now. He swallows, throat working against Id's mouth as he does, and cracks the most charming grin he can manage.]
Not sure...that's gonna help me cool off, sweetheart.
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That being said, the synth-made-human wears this form exactly like it was made for him; he looks real in a way that's difficult to describe. The alignment with his synth body helps, but that's not the entirety of it. He's stunning because he's Nick and because he's wearing a form he poured so much heart and attention into; this approximation of Normal isn't Natural but it feels like it is, like maybe this is Nick in another life (and Hancock, too) and now, by some quirk of technology, they get to dip their toes together into this wild alternate reality. ]
Gettin' to that part
[ The leather in his mouth muffles his words and his smirk, so the blonde man tosses in a sultry wink for full effect. His hands drift up and brace Nick by the hips so when he pulls back with his teeth the buckle of the belt unlatches; his eyes are like enchanted lost woods to get spirited away inside as he holds Nick's gaze and pulls his belt completely free. It clanks clumsily onto the floor as he lets it slide from his mouth. ]
... But ya know what? Ya got a point. Hey, Snow? Turn down the temperature, if ya please?
[ Is this really Snow, or just a command that mimics Snow's abilities in the scope of their apartment? Hancock supposes it doesn't actually matter as the vents puff a small breath of mist that marks the activation of their (digital) suite's central air conditioning.
It's quite cooler than it needs to be-- or maybe it's just cool enough, to encourage Nick to crave for the warmth off the ghoul bracing his back. Satisfied with his devious little play (the cold certainly does interesting things to naked human nipples) the youngest aspect leans forward and laves a warm wet kiss just below Nick's navel as he peels open his paramour's trousers and pushes them down his thighs. ]
That any better, love...?
[ The question ends with a red velvet growl trickled down Nick's ear. Id shifts his weight needlessly, adjusts his arms around Nick's body to demonstrate the monstrous ease with which he could literally sweep the not-synth off his feet.]
You're so flushed ...but your almost shiverin... look so damn good comin' apart for me darlin', wanna watch you unravel all night long
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The drop in temperature is pretty sharp--better and faster than their air conditioning, that's for sure--and the chill dances across all his exposed skin, bruised and unmarked alike. He doesn't notice the way the gooseflesh raises all over him, but he does notice as his nipples tense up. In honor of the last time they did this, Nick's got a little blue anodyzed ring through his right nipple. They've been too close for him to parade around the decorations he's built into this body (like that tattoo of his for instance), but now he's keenly aware of that one.]
Yeah--it's, uh, good--very good.
[The heat of the ghoul behind him is keeping him from shivering, but then the human aspect is doing just about everything he can to make Nick shiver. The velvet growl that spills over his shoulder isn't helping either, but he still wraps himself up in it like a blanket.
Unlike his normal configuration, human Nick has all the bells and whistles--for instance: a normal cock. And between the overwhelming sensation, being hauled back into a looming Hancock, and having those green eyes stare up at him, lips and teeth hooked on his belt--well, it's not really shocking that Nick's at half mast. Except, that it is because his dick usually doesn't work until he turns it on--this one just goes.
Nick's not sure how folk deal with that, it's sapping his ability to think, but he absolutely cannot complain about any of this.
His left hand, ring and all, are stretched behind him and wrapped around the back of Id's bent neck. The grip is equal parts clutching and encouragement and his fingers just soak up the heat pouring off him. As his trousers drop, his right moves to comb through the unruly blonde hair of the human knelt in front of him. Just tangling his fingers in Hancock's hair is enough to have his cock twitch about it and Nick feels just slightly exasperated. These tells were no harder to read than his fans.]
Wanna do this here?
[In truth, he has no idea what Hancock wants to do, but seeing him at this angle, framed against his growing erection paints a pretty picture. Assumptions are risky but Nick makes this one because, honestly? He's worried about Hancock's knees. Sure, its a digital reconstruction, but accurate, physical sensation is kind of the whole point. Hardwood, like the dance floor, isn't terribly forgiving...and if they're going to leave tonight aching, he'd rather it be intentionally inflicted.]
Got a couch over there--that is, it's got a plush rug and everything.
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The whole show? Nah, but the next couple'a minutes? Think my knees can take it. Wasn't exactly picturin' ya on the couch...
[ As he speaks the blonde dips down and devotes some serious dexterity to parting Nick from his shoes. Once they're gone (seriously, did he cut the laces or something?) Nick's pants are removed completely and tossed aside, along with his socks, leaving him exactly one article of clothing to fail at concealing his organic body's natural eagerness.
Super Ego leans back to salaciously supervise as glowing ghoulish hands finally quit their fixated fiddling (turning that ring through the healed puncture it's pierced through) and descend, dipping with daring hungry haste beneath the waistband of Nick's underwear. Peeling the last remaining shred of clothing away isn't the final design of those questing radiant fingers; the Glowing One pushes his hands down the backs of Nick's thighs until he can hook his fingers beneath the man's knees and lift.
It could almost be a downright cozy seat, if the ghoul didn't also pull Nick's knees apart. ]
Yeah, picture perfect
[ The teenaged aspect touches his finger tips to his thumbs, creating a square 'frame' of his digits like an imagined camera. He closes one peridot eye to better square his image, and clicks his tongue like he's snapping a photo of the delightfully debauched display before him. ]
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short because headache but I had to tag
Quality not quantity <3
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HOW DID THIS TAG ESCAPE ME WTF */ROLLS*
LMAO it happens to the best of us.
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