[ A small chuckle because that's honestly not one he's heard much before beyond maybe sex workers, but he sure won't be saying that out loud right now. ]
I take it that's just kissing on the lips, yeah? Smooches elsewhere are fine?
No kissin' on the lips, that's right. That's my limit.
[Listen he doesn't need to be hammered with Pretty Woman jokes, he knows it's weird. It's one of the things that Victor finds desperate to keep for himself.]
Would be a shame if you couldn't kiss him anywhere else. Everything else is fine, I don't think I have to worry about the freakier stuff with you.
[ Maybe if Digger had ever had any sort of long lasting relationship, he might understand just a little better, but as it is he's never quite got a grasp on love, affection, or anything in between. ]
Thanks, I think? [ Not sure if that freaky thing is a compliment or not, but he supposes not being the freaky guy is good enough by his books. But now he's curious. ]
[Victor's grin is all gold teeth and nasty promise. He gives Boomer a look over and considers, for a moment, playing on that corpse-fucking fear, but dismisses it quickly. He wants the guy to agree to fuck his husband and give him diamonds, not cut contact.
Rubbing his chin, he thinks about a few tame freaky things Boomer might wince but not run for the hills at.
Then he slips off the stool and turns around, pulling his shirt up.
There on his lower back in big, burned lettering is RBS.]
[ Victor's not as stupid as he looks. Mostly. Smart of him not to go scaring off Digger with the real weird shit, at the very least, even if he's semi-expecting it at this point.
When the other moves to stand, Boomer's got an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, leaning in as the shirt is lifted. ]
Fuck me, mate, that a proper brand?
[ He reaches out to drag his fingers over the raised skin like he doesn't quite trust it. And yet, Victor's covered in hundreds of raised scars, this isn't all that different. ]
[It is, wide and long and taking up a hell of a lot of real estate on Victor's back. The skin's healed over now, has been for a few weeks of tentative care. Nothing too rough or knotted beneath Boomer's fingers as he grazes them over the brand, just tight, smooth scar tissue.
[ Not so much because he's that much of a prude or easily offended by a bit of pain with pleasure, but mostly because he gets the picture. If that's the sort of thing they do as gifts, then he can already assume it just gets a whole lot more for 'punishments. Digger withdraws his hand to rest lightly on his own knee. ]
How d'you make sure you the sexy scars don't get mixed up in your tally, huh? Must be a real problem for your kinda bookkeeping, mate.
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[ A small chuckle because that's honestly not one he's heard much before beyond maybe sex workers, but he sure won't be saying that out loud right now. ]
I take it that's just kissing on the lips, yeah? Smooches elsewhere are fine?
[ No lips at all is a tough rule to follow. ]
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[Listen he doesn't need to be hammered with Pretty Woman jokes, he knows it's weird. It's one of the things that Victor finds desperate to keep for himself.]
Would be a shame if you couldn't kiss him anywhere else. Everything else is fine, I don't think I have to worry about the freakier stuff with you.
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Thanks, I think? [ Not sure if that freaky thing is a compliment or not, but he supposes not being the freaky guy is good enough by his books. But now he's curious. ]
What sorta freaky shit you two get up to, though?
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Rubbing his chin, he thinks about a few tame freaky things Boomer might wince but not run for the hills at.
Then he slips off the stool and turns around, pulling his shirt up.
There on his lower back in big, burned lettering is RBS.]
That was my wedding present.
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When the other moves to stand, Boomer's got an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, leaning in as the shirt is lifted. ]
Fuck me, mate, that a proper brand?
[ He reaches out to drag his fingers over the raised skin like he doesn't quite trust it. And yet, Victor's covered in hundreds of raised scars, this isn't all that different. ]
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[It is, wide and long and taking up a hell of a lot of real estate on Victor's back. The skin's healed over now, has been for a few weeks of tentative care. Nothing too rough or knotted beneath Boomer's fingers as he grazes them over the brand, just tight, smooth scar tissue.
Straightening back up, he turns around.]
Need another example? Or does that suffice?
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[ Not so much because he's that much of a prude or easily offended by a bit of pain with pleasure, but mostly because he gets the picture. If that's the sort of thing they do as gifts, then he can already assume it just gets a whole lot more for 'punishments. Digger withdraws his hand to rest lightly on his own knee. ]
How d'you make sure you the sexy scars don't get mixed up in your tally, huh? Must be a real problem for your kinda bookkeeping, mate.
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[A little sly grin, but, Victor does right his clothes. Pulling his shirt back down, he straightens up in his seat and leans back.]
Cuz I use a small knife to cut the tallies makes it easy to tell 'em apart.
[The blade is a nice and heavy weight in his pocket. He moves his hand down so his fingers skim across the outline of it in his slacks.]
Could show you sometime, if you're interested.
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Boomer meets it with a slow raise of an eyebrow. ]
Show it on yourself, right? 'Cause I don't need any more scars. Tattoos, I'll take, but scars? Nah.
[ A beat and then he quickly thinks to add; ] Don't you gotta kill one of those 'little birds' to add another line?
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[Not exactly doing well on calming down the creep factor there, Victor.]
Yeah, if you wanted to tag along I could show you. Would take time though, I'd have to find a proper bird.