Being told not to take it personally doesn't actually help Waver feel much better, even if he does believe that Berserker didn't mean to make him feel that way.
He tugs his coat shut more tightly, crossing his arms over the front, and walks faster toward the general direction of both their homes. It's not like he can leave Berserker behind; he's just trying to get there more quickly and get out of the public eye. Even if Waver knows no one is listening or is going to care, he's still uncomfortable talking about this outside.
"Yes. I get it," he sighs, the edge to his voice more anxiety than real annoyance. "It's difficult for me to understand too. Okay?"
Berserker notices his continued discomfort and decides to stay silent for the rest of the walk. Probably not his best decision, but it feels like anything he says will only make the tension between them worse. Life was so much easier when he lacked empathy...
The street their houses are on come into view, a sense of relief washing over Berserker in turn. It won't make anything less awkward, but at least they'd be able to speak more openly about it.
"...I'll walk you home. Don't...Don't force yourself to explain anything to me. You owe me nothing."
As they walk, when Berserker gives him time to think in silence and relax a little, Waver is able to organize his feelings a bit more productively. He takes a few deep breaths, glancing up at Berserker furtively and trying to gauge his expression -- which as about as impossible as it is most of the time.
They reach their street at last, with Waver having calmed down, and finally he shakes his head as Berserker speaks.
"No. That's not true. You're right... it's something that ties us together." no pun intended
"Honestly, I think you'll understand better than anyone else I could talk to. So... when we're inside, we can talk. It's fine."
He only wanted a safe place to have this discussion. It's not for anyone else to be around.
He falls silent again, brow furrowed in thought. It's too easy to go back to that time, to feel the hopelessness and frustration consume him once again. He won't let it happen now, at least, even if he can feel the pangs of anxiety trying to seize him.
"...Alright, if you say so."
No running away from this. He is the one that asked -- sort of asked, anyway. The path has been decided. Berserker pushes the growing anxiety down as they head inside.
It's still embarrassing and nerve-wracking and Waver isn't very good at talking about his feelings, even if he's quite good at wearing them on his sleeve even when he tries to be more subtle. In that way, they probably feel more similarly than it might seem.
Waver shuts the door when they're both inside, locking it on reflex, hangs up his coat and scarf and bends to unlace his boots. He takes his time a little more than strictly needed, trying to maintain his hold on the calm he'd found while they walked and he decided to do this in the first place.
Berserker says he doesn't owe him anything, but it's more than that. There's no debt to be paid, true. But if Waver can help him, it feels wrong to shut him out instead. He owes this to a friend who is suffering not because of a debt but because it's what Berserker deserves.
"Let me make some tea. It's freezing out there, and I think we could both use it."
While moving around the kitchen to prepare the pot, Waver keeps talking with an honest admission. "I don't really know how to talk about this stuff. But I'm willing to try. Because... it's going to sound strange, but I think... it helps."
Berserker sheds his cloak and scarf, setting them aside for now.
"You're bad at talking about anything that embarrasses you," he says as he follows after him. Being rude is a coping mechanism.
"How...exactly does it help? I can't even begin to understand that. I-I...panic if someone so much as grabs my wrist suddenly."
He catches himself as he clasps his hand around his own wrist, remembering what it felt like when he was finally freed and how raw his skin was. His pulse spikes as the memories flood back, though he remains outwardly calm.
Listen... tea is comforting and calming. He's British. He needs this.
Waver's ears twitch at the comment. Called out.
"Hey. Give me some credit. I'm trying. You're hardly the most eloquent guy around, yourself."
Waver looks up in time to see his reaction, with a pang of sympathy at the sound of Berserker's voice cracking like that.
Somehow, it's easier to focus when he has a task at hand, and he speaks slowly between carrying out the motions of the familiar process.
"It's not the same. It doesn't feel the same. Being grabbed by someone unexpectedly sounds scarier. I would panic if someone did that to me without asking too."
Water, kettle, stove.
"I don't know how... to describe it. But also... Well. I think maybe you're misunderstanding something. What I was looking at in the store-- that's not what I was there for. And it's not something I've used."
He had been looking at it with consideration, but not with the intent to buy anything that looks like manacles. Only for ideas.
"But... there are other things I've... tried."
Tea leaves in the pot. He prods them with the spoon unnecessarily, waiting for the water to boil.
He's so far out of his element here. Unlike Waver, he doesn't have anything to distract himself. His thoughts wander unbound (ha), his agitation visible in the way his tail tip thrashes around.
Waver can sense his agitation in the air, even without seeing the tension in Berserker's body, the way his tail twitches. He ducks his head, ears down, trying not to let it get to him.
It's a natural reaction, considering what Berserker has been through. What they've both been through.
"...rope," he admits in a mumble. Clears his throat, tries again, more loudly.
"Iskandar was interested in some displays they had once. Soft silk rope, artistic knots and patterns... We tried it. And... it felt really nice, honestly. I- I know it sounds weird."
Rope isn't threatening, doesn't bring about the visceral response that shackles and collars do. It wasn't used to control him. That much he can at least understand. His agitation lessens some as his more logical brain comes back in control.
"...It does. But it wasn't used against us, so it's not the same, is it?"
And it was with someone Waver loved and trusted, not in a place like that with people who treated them as things rather than living beings.
"No... it's not the same," Waver agrees, and pauses to take care of the whistling kettle, pouring some water into the pot over the leaves to let it steep while he busies himself grabbing mugs and bringing it to the couch.
He wants to sit together. Even though it's embarrassing, even though he feels twitchy and uncomfortable, he wants to push past it; it feels important, somehow. He hasn't been able to talk to anyone about this who really understands, not even Iskandar.
"But none of it is the same. That's what I'm trying to explain... I don't know how to explain how it felt."
Waver sits, hunching over with his arms crossed over his knees to stare absently at the teapot. He doesn't time it exactly; he knows more or less how long it should steep.
For a few moments, he struggles with the words, trying to find the right one.
"The weirdest thing is... it felt... safe. Calming. And... well, good too."
When he sits down, Waver leans in subtly -- not enough for them to touch, but with only a few inches between their knees, his warmth tangible in the air near Berserker.
"No one's saying you should. Or that you should even want to."
Waver finally lifts his head, glancing over at him. His cheeks are red, but he's doing his best to answer sincerely.
"At first... with the rope, no. Not really. I think I panicked more about the thought that I should be scared than because anything about it actually scared me. But some other stuff..." He swallows hard. He never meant to get into it in this much detail, but it's a bit silly to be shy about it with Berserker, who's plenty aware of various other things he likes in bed. Probably more aware than Waver has been until recently, when he's actually forced himself to examine whether he likes certain things instead of just letting them happen.
He looks down again, leaning over to lift up the lid of the teapot and peer inside at the color, inhaling the warm steam and familiar, energizing scent.
"There are some moments. Especially when my hands are tied together. But those are the moments where I feel like I can really... face it. Choose to separate the feelings, and when I ask for, um... extra affection, and such... that's when it really helps me feel like I don't have to be stuck in that memory. It feels like taking something... back. Rejecting it and choosing something instead of being forced into feeling scared because of what happened."
Reclaiming what was taken. Now that he can relate to -- it's what he's spent most of his time doing in this city. He'd never considered that it could be freeing to allow himself to be bound by someone he cares about. Berserker listens patiently for once, allowing Waver to finish before he speaks his own feelings on it.
"I can understand that. Taking something back that was taken from you...It's freeing."
Berserker gently grasps Waver's hand in his own, his head still lowered.
"I...Thank you. For being honest with me about this. I know how you get when it comes to sex, so...I'm surprised."
It might be something he can bring up with Diarmuid later. What a thing to tell someone, though: that you want to be tied up to reclaim something that was taken from you.
Waver looks down at their hands, surprised. He turns his palm over slowly, squeezing back.
"Y-yeah..."
His tongue flicks over his lips nervously, ears down and shoulders tight. It's hard for him; it still makes his pulse race and his anxiety spike, trying to place these feelings and understand them in the context of what they've been through.
"Sex is... embarrassing," he admits with a sharp exhale that's almost a laugh. "But this isn't quite that."
Licking his lips again, Waver squeezes harder, taking a few even breaths.
"I'm trying to talk about it more. Because if I don't... I start thinking there's something really wrong with me, after all. Having been through that, and then actually wanting someone to- to--"
No. He was the one who kept saying it isn't the same.
Berserker might realize why he kept repeating it now. The feelings are so tangled and confusing. It's so much easier to just... experience it. Not talk about it or think about it. Just let it happen, let himself enjoy it, let the tension out and then have Iskandar hold him as they sleep.
Actually unpacking all that takes a lot more work.
"It sounds counterintuitive, but there's a feeling of power that comes with choosing to give it to someone you trust. I can't describe how it feels."
The problem that arises from this idea is his willingness to make himself that vulnerable, even with someone he trusts unconditionally. It would mean admitting that he's still traumatized from the experience and that there are lingering effects in his daily life. That's a weakness he's not sure he wants anyone to know about...Even if the people he would trust to do this likely already know.
"I admit that you've made me curious to experience it...I just have no idea how to even broach the subject."
Berserker is Very Bad at discussing anything, let alone being extremely open about his emotions. This wound may still be too raw for him to touch. The idea of telling Diarmuid he wants to be tied up is absurd, more absurd is telling him that it might help overcome his trauma.
Waver looks up again, surprised. His ears slowly perk up.
"I guess... it just sort of happened because we both wanted to try it because of that store."
He pauses, remembering something else; the blush deepens.
"Actually... someone on staff held an instructional lesson. Explaining different ways of doing the ties, for one, but also about communication and how to make sure we're doing everything safely. It was embarrassing, but the staff was very professional. I think I learned a lot..."
When his hand is freed, Waver remembers about the tea; it might be a little over-steeped now, but that's all right. It's not important.
Berserker's right that he's embarrassed. And was even more embarrassed then. Waver moves to pour the tea, face practically glowing pink.
"I'm surprised too... hah. Even with the help of that herb, it was so nerve-wracking."
The herb that Berserker had sort of 'helped' him discover that time he'd accidentally had way too much of it in the yard... oops.
Once the tea is poured, Waver cups the mug in his palms, soaking in the warmth and staring into the amber liquid intently because he's having trouble meeting Berserker's eyes right now.
"B-but if... if you want me to show you, a little, I think I can. And if you want me to be there when you talk to Diarmuid... I guess that'd be weird, huh? I just mean-- you know. If you need."
That herb...He remembers that incident very well. He's merciful enough to leave it at that, though.
He picks up his mug and, almost in a mirror of Waver, stares down into it. All of this is a lot to process and think about, but necessary. That doesn't mean it's not emotionally exhausting, though.
"...I wouldn't mind if you showed me some, but I think I can talk to Diarmuid on my own. I just...wonder how he'll react."
Luckily, Waver at least was able to find something good(?) from the experience... He might've mentioned to Berserker that he was able to alchemize a potion made from the plant that helps ease anxiety and nerves. Unfortunately, it only seems to work on dog-like Turnskins, so he wasn't able to offer it to Berserker. Maybe someday, they'll find a plant that works on Dragons...
Regardless. Waver glances over at him, trying to gauge Berserker's feelings.
"Tonight? Or another time? I'm going to tell you right now... I don't know any techniques. This is going to be strictly getting a feel for it as a concept. I'm not planning to do anything else, either. I... I'm not comfortable incorporating that into sex as the person who's actually doing it."
"All right. I have plenty of time tonight, that's fine."
He really hadn't expected this turn. That Berserker would be confused wasn't a surprise. Even Berserker being upset.
But... Curious? Actually interested?
Waver wants to help him, certainly. But in part, he also wants to show himself that he's not the only one. If Berserker can find comfort or pleasure in something like this, it'll make Waver feel less like some strange aberration for his newly-discovered proclivities.
Of course, Waver himself can't prove that to him. Waver doesn't love him like Diarmuid does, the way it's necessary -- in his mind -- to truly experience what Waver was describing. But if it will help, then it's a start.
He sits back with his cup of tea, taking his time rather than leaping to take Berserker up on his request right away.
"Where do you want to try it? Out here, or in your bed?"
He distracts himself with his cup of tea, too, taking a long drink without answering. Whether or not this will actually help, he has no idea, but it's a place to start. He trusts Waver deeply and they both suffered the same cruelty; if it helped him, surely it might help himself.
"The bedroom seems like a better idea."
Less chance of being in an embarrassing position in the open.
Waver is inclined to agree, but he wanted it to be Berserker's decision. He nods, settling back on the couch for now, one knee lifting to prop his foot comfortably on the edge of the cushion.
"All right. I'll just finish my tea and go get the things when you're ready."
He's so unfamiliar with this part, but knowing what Berserker has been through, seeing him so shaken just from the thought back there, Waver knows he needs to pretend he knows what he's doing far more than he does. Berserker is scared, but this is a much safer way to explore that fear than leaving it bottled up until it lashes out.
"There are a few options, but I think I'll bring the silk rope. It's soft." And very strong. Arachne silk, with enough give to be comfortable while being sturdy enough not to stretch or slip.
He'll have to tell Iskandar, too. Waver made a promise to him that he would never let anyone else tie him, but they'd never discussed a possibility like this simply because Waver never thought it would come up. He truly has no interest in doing what they do together with someone else. But this is a different situation. Waver can explain it to him; he's sure Iskandar wouldn't get mad if he knew the reason.
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He tugs his coat shut more tightly, crossing his arms over the front, and walks faster toward the general direction of both their homes. It's not like he can leave Berserker behind; he's just trying to get there more quickly and get out of the public eye. Even if Waver knows no one is listening or is going to care, he's still uncomfortable talking about this outside.
"Yes. I get it," he sighs, the edge to his voice more anxiety than real annoyance. "It's difficult for me to understand too. Okay?"
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The street their houses are on come into view, a sense of relief washing over Berserker in turn. It won't make anything less awkward, but at least they'd be able to speak more openly about it.
"...I'll walk you home. Don't...Don't force yourself to explain anything to me. You owe me nothing."
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They reach their street at last, with Waver having calmed down, and finally he shakes his head as Berserker speaks.
"No. That's not true. You're right... it's something that ties us together."
no pun intended"Honestly, I think you'll understand better than anyone else I could talk to. So... when we're inside, we can talk. It's fine."
He only wanted a safe place to have this discussion. It's not for anyone else to be around.
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"...Alright, if you say so."
No running away from this. He is the one that asked -- sort of asked, anyway. The path has been decided. Berserker pushes the growing anxiety down as they head inside.
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Waver shuts the door when they're both inside, locking it on reflex, hangs up his coat and scarf and bends to unlace his boots. He takes his time a little more than strictly needed, trying to maintain his hold on the calm he'd found while they walked and he decided to do this in the first place.
Berserker says he doesn't owe him anything, but it's more than that. There's no debt to be paid, true. But if Waver can help him, it feels wrong to shut him out instead. He owes this to a friend who is suffering not because of a debt but because it's what Berserker deserves.
"Let me make some tea. It's freezing out there, and I think we could both use it."
While moving around the kitchen to prepare the pot, Waver keeps talking with an honest admission. "I don't really know how to talk about this stuff. But I'm willing to try. Because... it's going to sound strange, but I think... it helps."
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Berserker sheds his cloak and scarf, setting them aside for now.
"You're bad at talking about anything that embarrasses you," he says as he follows after him. Being rude is a coping mechanism.
"How...exactly does it help? I can't even begin to understand that. I-I...panic if someone so much as grabs my wrist suddenly."
He catches himself as he clasps his hand around his own wrist, remembering what it felt like when he was finally freed and how raw his skin was. His pulse spikes as the memories flood back, though he remains outwardly calm.
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Waver's ears twitch at the comment. Called out.
"Hey. Give me some credit. I'm trying. You're hardly the most eloquent guy around, yourself."
Waver looks up in time to see his reaction, with a pang of sympathy at the sound of Berserker's voice cracking like that.
Somehow, it's easier to focus when he has a task at hand, and he speaks slowly between carrying out the motions of the familiar process.
"It's not the same. It doesn't feel the same. Being grabbed by someone unexpectedly sounds scarier. I would panic if someone did that to me without asking too."
Water, kettle, stove.
"I don't know how... to describe it. But also... Well. I think maybe you're misunderstanding something. What I was looking at in the store-- that's not what I was there for. And it's not something I've used."
He had been looking at it with consideration, but not with the intent to buy anything that looks like manacles. Only for ideas.
"But... there are other things I've... tried."
Tea leaves in the pot. He prods them with the spoon unnecessarily, waiting for the water to boil.
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He's so far out of his element here. Unlike Waver, he doesn't have anything to distract himself. His thoughts wander unbound (ha), his agitation visible in the way his tail tip thrashes around.
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It's a natural reaction, considering what Berserker has been through. What they've both been through.
"...rope," he admits in a mumble. Clears his throat, tries again, more loudly.
"Iskandar was interested in some displays they had once. Soft silk rope, artistic knots and patterns... We tried it. And... it felt really nice, honestly. I- I know it sounds weird."
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"...It does. But it wasn't used against us, so it's not the same, is it?"
And it was with someone Waver loved and trusted, not in a place like that with people who treated them as things rather than living beings.
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He wants to sit together. Even though it's embarrassing, even though he feels twitchy and uncomfortable, he wants to push past it; it feels important, somehow. He hasn't been able to talk to anyone about this who really understands, not even Iskandar.
"But none of it is the same. That's what I'm trying to explain... I don't know how to explain how it felt."
Waver sits, hunching over with his arms crossed over his knees to stare absently at the teapot. He doesn't time it exactly; he knows more or less how long it should steep.
For a few moments, he struggles with the words, trying to find the right one.
"The weirdest thing is... it felt... safe. Calming. And... well, good too."
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"I don't...know if I could let someone do that to me. Even if it is different, I'm...not sure how I'd react."
The last thing he'd want to do is hurt someone he cares about in a panic.
"Did you panic at first? Was it hard to let go and let it happen?"
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"No one's saying you should. Or that you should even want to."
Waver finally lifts his head, glancing over at him. His cheeks are red, but he's doing his best to answer sincerely.
"At first... with the rope, no. Not really. I think I panicked more about the thought that I should be scared than because anything about it actually scared me. But some other stuff..." He swallows hard. He never meant to get into it in this much detail, but it's a bit silly to be shy about it with Berserker, who's plenty aware of various other things he likes in bed. Probably more aware than Waver has been until recently, when he's actually forced himself to examine whether he likes certain things instead of just letting them happen.
He looks down again, leaning over to lift up the lid of the teapot and peer inside at the color, inhaling the warm steam and familiar, energizing scent.
"There are some moments. Especially when my hands are tied together. But those are the moments where I feel like I can really... face it. Choose to separate the feelings, and when I ask for, um... extra affection, and such... that's when it really helps me feel like I don't have to be stuck in that memory. It feels like taking something... back. Rejecting it and choosing something instead of being forced into feeling scared because of what happened."
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"I can understand that. Taking something back that was taken from you...It's freeing."
Berserker gently grasps Waver's hand in his own, his head still lowered.
"I...Thank you. For being honest with me about this. I know how you get when it comes to sex, so...I'm surprised."
It might be something he can bring up with Diarmuid later. What a thing to tell someone, though: that you want to be tied up to reclaim something that was taken from you.
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"Y-yeah..."
His tongue flicks over his lips nervously, ears down and shoulders tight. It's hard for him; it still makes his pulse race and his anxiety spike, trying to place these feelings and understand them in the context of what they've been through.
"Sex is... embarrassing," he admits with a sharp exhale that's almost a laugh. "But this isn't quite that."
Licking his lips again, Waver squeezes harder, taking a few even breaths.
"I'm trying to talk about it more. Because if I don't... I start thinking there's something really wrong with me, after all. Having been through that, and then actually wanting someone to- to--"
No. He was the one who kept saying it isn't the same.
Berserker might realize why he kept repeating it now. The feelings are so tangled and confusing. It's so much easier to just... experience it. Not talk about it or think about it. Just let it happen, let himself enjoy it, let the tension out and then have Iskandar hold him as they sleep.
Actually unpacking all that takes a lot more work.
"It sounds counterintuitive, but there's a feeling of power that comes with choosing to give it to someone you trust. I can't describe how it feels."
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"I admit that you've made me curious to experience it...I just have no idea how to even broach the subject."
Berserker is Very Bad at discussing anything, let alone being extremely open about his emotions. This wound may still be too raw for him to touch. The idea of telling Diarmuid he wants to be tied up is absurd, more absurd is telling him that it might help overcome his trauma.
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Waver looks up again, surprised. His ears slowly perk up.
"I guess... it just sort of happened because we both wanted to try it because of that store."
He pauses, remembering something else; the blush deepens.
"Actually... someone on staff held an instructional lesson. Explaining different ways of doing the ties, for one, but also about communication and how to make sure we're doing everything safely. It was embarrassing, but the staff was very professional. I think I learned a lot..."
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Berserker is quite a bit more relaxed now, at least. He gives Waver's hand one more gentle squeeze before he sits back.
"...I suppose I'll have to figure out a way to bring it up without making a fool of myself."
Easier said than done, in his own mind. He had the resources necessary to make it happen, now he just has to execute it.
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Berserker's right that he's embarrassed. And was even more embarrassed then. Waver moves to pour the tea, face practically glowing pink.
"I'm surprised too... hah. Even with the help of that herb, it was so nerve-wracking."
The herb that Berserker had sort of 'helped' him discover that time he'd accidentally had way too much of it in the yard... oops.
Once the tea is poured, Waver cups the mug in his palms, soaking in the warmth and staring into the amber liquid intently because he's having trouble meeting Berserker's eyes right now.
"B-but if... if you want me to show you, a little, I think I can. And if you want me to be there when you talk to Diarmuid... I guess that'd be weird, huh? I just mean-- you know. If you need."
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He picks up his mug and, almost in a mirror of Waver, stares down into it. All of this is a lot to process and think about, but necessary. That doesn't mean it's not emotionally exhausting, though.
"...I wouldn't mind if you showed me some, but I think I can talk to Diarmuid on my own. I just...wonder how he'll react."
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Regardless. Waver glances over at him, trying to gauge Berserker's feelings.
"Tonight? Or another time? I'm going to tell you right now... I don't know any techniques. This is going to be strictly getting a feel for it as a concept. I'm not planning to do anything else, either. I... I'm not comfortable incorporating that into sex as the person who's actually doing it."
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Looking before he leaps, what an odd concept.
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He really hadn't expected this turn. That Berserker would be confused wasn't a surprise. Even Berserker being upset.
But... Curious? Actually interested?
Waver wants to help him, certainly. But in part, he also wants to show himself that he's not the only one. If Berserker can find comfort or pleasure in something like this, it'll make Waver feel less like some strange aberration for his newly-discovered proclivities.
Of course, Waver himself can't prove that to him. Waver doesn't love him like Diarmuid does, the way it's necessary -- in his mind -- to truly experience what Waver was describing. But if it will help, then it's a start.
He sits back with his cup of tea, taking his time rather than leaping to take Berserker up on his request right away.
"Where do you want to try it? Out here, or in your bed?"
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"The bedroom seems like a better idea."
Less chance of being in an embarrassing position in the open.
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"All right. I'll just finish my tea and go get the things when you're ready."
He's so unfamiliar with this part, but knowing what Berserker has been through, seeing him so shaken just from the thought back there, Waver knows he needs to pretend he knows what he's doing far more than he does. Berserker is scared, but this is a much safer way to explore that fear than leaving it bottled up until it lashes out.
"There are a few options, but I think I'll bring the silk rope. It's soft." And very strong. Arachne silk, with enough give to be comfortable while being sturdy enough not to stretch or slip.
He'll have to tell Iskandar, too. Waver made a promise to him that he would never let anyone else tie him, but they'd never discussed a possibility like this simply because Waver never thought it would come up. He truly has no interest in doing what they do together with someone else. But this is a different situation. Waver can explain it to him; he's sure Iskandar wouldn't get mad if he knew the reason.
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