handleyourshit | Duplicity Inbox

This is Rosita. I'll hit you back when I can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

It had started to do that to him. He ran. But he runs; Rosita fights.

"How did Caden stop you?"

"He grabbed hold of me, and wouldn't let me get any closer. That last time, in the city when I was already wound up, I had to close my eyes to stop looking at them and he lead me away from them."

Maybe he saved her. Maybe she would have snapped out of it herself like she did the other times, but maybe not.

"I'm glad," he says softly. No one should be forced to dig those things up.

"I like him. He doesn't want me to, but I do. I'm not surprised you're getting through to him."

"He asked me to sign a contract with him."

She's not surprised by anything Jesus says, so she goes ahead and offers that.

"Sought me out and said I was the only Dominant here he could stand the thought of trying with."

That surprises him so much he actually laughs. "He did?"

This is a victory. "No one can resist you, Rosita. Every gay man in the city is safe with you."

She spreads her hands, the picture of resigned responsibility and innocence.

"What can I say? Queen Beard, that's me."

The look he gives her is earnestly affectionate though, and he pulls her into a hug. "I'm proud of you."

Even if he wants to find her a Sub who will pamper her the way she deserves, too.

She's not expecting that, but Jesus is one of very few people who can get away with it without being in any danger whatsoever.

She laughs, hugging back, but: "What? I didn't do anything."

"You did. I think he needs people more than, well, most people here." Specifically because Caden seems to bristle at the idea.

"Besides. I've decided you could use a little more casual affection in your day. So: I'm being casually affectionate with you."

Maybe he needs it, too, and she's the safest person in his life for it.

"You're trying to make me soft," she accuses, but she squeezes him before she lets go, and there's something easier in her expression after.

"He offered to help out here. Guess he used to do construction back home."

"So we're going to put him right to work," Jesus grins. "What will you have him help with first?"

"He wants to clear the crap out of here," she answers, gesturing around them.

"And put in some windows and doors. I didn't really talk to him about it. We were both pretty edgy at the time."

"Understandable." He's smirking though and finally admits, "He's afraid to connect to people but he's going to be one of ours, isn't he? I'm excited for him."

"He thinks he doesn't need anyone because he's had the luxury of doing that," she agrees. It's different from actually not needing anyone.

"But I think the fact that he actually said, word for word, that I was the only one he could stomach means that yes. He's probably one of ours."

"You're turning into me," he teases. "Just watch, soon you'll be bringing home all the refugees."

"No the fuck I won't," she snorts.

"And no the fuck I'm not. I just failed to discourage this one from following me back."

"He never wanted to follow anyone home until he met you," he retorts with a smirk. "Soon you'll be networking communities and breaking into libraries just like me."

"Well, have you met me?" she teases, that flippant brand of cocky arrogance she wraps around her like a shield sometimes.

Then she asks, much more seriously: "Is that what you want?"

"No. Then I'd be obsolete." He smiles at her, nudges her foot with his. "I like you being careful about who we bring in. I haven't been wrong about anyone yet, but no one is right all the time. I'll make a mistake one of these days, and you'll catch it."

"It's not about right or wrong," she answers, because while they both know there is such a thing, it's not like she's going to rub his face in it if they make a mistake together; he certainly hasn't rubbed hers in the ones she's made.

"It's about what goal we're working towards and how we're doing it. You said you wanted me to lead."

"And I do. I feel safe with you calling those shots." He trusts her to make decisions he balks at.

Her brow furrows for a moment, wanting to evade again like she has been so far - exacerbated, even, by the fact that they're adjusting at such wildly different rates, and that he has surrounded himself with people he can rely on while she has only him and those he's introduced.

But she physically shakes it off, and instead says, "That's what I'm asking. What shots are you hoping to see me call? What would you like to see?"

It's different here, where the leader doesn't have to worry about walls and the dead. "The ones you've been making. How we fix this place up, the sort of bases we fortify. What caches to focus on."

"I'm recreating Alexandria and Hilltop here," she points out.

She's not ashamed of it, she doesn't think she was wrong, but she remembers her conversation with Vrenille.

"That's what you want to do, too?"