Stick n Poke
May. 17th, 2024 03:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robotdick[Nick was the one who went out and acquired everything for this little art project. A trip to diamond city got him the needles, ground down by the machinist there. After a chat with a few friends in the railroad, he managed to drum up some information on various inks. Thankfully, seeing how he did't have actual skin, he didn't have to account much for whether any given pigment was toxic. Hard to leech poison into his blood without having blood. Overall, he gathers up a few sets of needles and combs, and about ten color choices. He has no idea what Hancock will want to do with his name, but Nick's giving him choices.
Is he nervous about getting it done, yeah, is it because he doesn't want a tattoo or because he doesn't want Hancock's name? No, not at all. It's just very...rebellious, conceptually, and Nick the former had Opinions about the type of people who sported tattoos. Most of those opinions are irrelevant in The Wasteland, but they're still there every time he thinks about it.
When Hancock shows up, Nick's got all the gathered items spread out on that interrogation table. It's the only piece of furniture that wouldn't get stained, ergo it's ideal. One of the two chairs has a makeshift cushion on it, clearly for Hancock since Nick didn't exactly suffer when stuck in one position for a long time. There's even a towel draped over the back of the chair for wiping away extra ink. Nick feels extremely prepared and fairly nervous when he welcomes the ghoul in.]
I wasn't sure what you'd feel like doing. [Nick admits when they're by the table.] So I just snatched up whatever I could get my hands on.
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no subject
Date: 2024-05-25 10:50 pm (UTC)Smart man. Don't gimme a reason to shut your mouth
[ His typical flirtations are all soft and balmy; there's weight to the threat of them but less hunger for chasing them down. It's getting harder and harder to ignore the sheer emotional contentment he's feeling, and that... to Hancock, almost feels more like a temptation to fate than his hyperbole had been. He doesn't want to lose this-- again. The fear of that grows in equal proportion to his love for Nick.
But fear is just preamble to cowardice and Hancock has no time for that shit. ]
I guess? Feelin' kinda juiced to be honest with ya... but not to keen on movin', either. Guess it's gunna have to be you who folds first here, Slick. Looks like ya caught yourself a cuddler.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-26 12:35 am (UTC)[Nick lamented in absolute deadpan and shifted, weaving an arm under Hancock's back to pull him in closer. Cuddling is, for Nick at least, about as satisfying as foreplay and sex. The sensors that ping under touch don't suddenly stop and wrapping himself in delicate touch, textures and warmth is always the same rush. Cuddling on the soft duvet is hardly something Nick opposes, it just gives him more time to commit the topography of Hancock's skin to memory.]
~End?
Date: 2024-05-26 01:21 am (UTC)This is... something else. He didn't even realize he was falling asleep; the decent wasn't some plummeting gravity, it was like floating in reverse. When had his eyes closed? Only when he cared more to focus on the feelings of Nick's form intertwined with his own, than to keep his lids aloft. When had his breathing gotten so deep and slow, and when had the dim of the room thickened so cozily?
Apparently the ghoul had some witty reply but he doesn't speak it in either language he's wired for; instead it's just sleepy-content, nonsense sounds and a sigh of blissful resignation as he slips off into the best damn sleep of his entire 40-odd years of life.
No Chems, no ragers, no blood-baths. Just Nick and his sweet-smoke words and their delectably comfortable duvet. ]