barrayar | I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

[He's caught him so off guard none of the reasons why this is a bad idea (and he has an entire inventoried list of reasons, taken out and picked over with morbid obsessiveness) seem to rise up to hamstring him. They are mysteriously vacant.

Possibly because Miles is implying he wants to kiss him and oh, God, does he want to kiss Miles, so very badly. The amount of suppressed desire he's been keeping carefully boxed up abruptly lurches upward and surges down the link, crackling.]

I thought you liked tall, [he mutters, even as he's sinking down to one knee, the chair he was sitting on clattering behind him as it's pushed away. Gregor has never looked so riveted or -- frankly heated in his life.

But he doesn't make any move to initiate it, not even with their eyes finally about level, his hands reaching out mindlessly to grab Miles around the waist (a faint thrill goes through him, incredulous) to drag him toward him. Gregor is completely incapable of being the one to jump over that line after he's spent so long hating himself for even being aware the line exists.]

Edited (positioning in the scene is what??) 2016-01-27 05:47 (UTC)

[ That crackle of desire goes through Miles like an electric current, making him shiver. Miles has always had trouble saying no to people to begin with; saying no to Gregor's suddenly unguarded desire is well and truly beyond his ability to reject. Not that he cares. Hell, he wouldn't care even if it were coming out of the blue. He doesn't know what this means for Gregor - doesn't know how it feeds into his issues, or Serg and Cavilo's ghosts, but what he can do is want Gregor right back. His usual burning loyalty in a slightly different shape, edged with a crackling energy of his own.

Don't stop there, he wants to say. But he's grateful for just a moment to take in the scene, to take in Gregor in front of him. Miles had always found Gregor attractive in an aesthetic kind of way, but seeing that terrifying wave of feeling - seeing it directed towards Miles - is what turns it into something he desperately wants to touch all over. He shifts closer, leaning their foreheads together for just a moment. ]

I do like tall. [ Likes it a hell of a lot. Picturing Gregor towering over him sends another excited jolt through him, this time of his own making. ] But this is more convenient.

[ If Gregor won't cross the line, then Miles will. As he always does, kicking off into freefall without being sure what the bottom looks like. He doesn't really care at this exact second. Tightening his grip in Gregor's shirt, he leans forward to kiss him, hard. ]

[There's a distinct sense in freefall of weightlessness, of consequences and concerns being left behind on some higher vantage. Gregor is not someone who plunges himself into decisions like Miles does, and he can but follow here where he leads, rational thought left far behind.

The anticipation ratchets upward to nearly unbearable levels as Miles leans in to him, resting their foreheads together. And then he's-- he's kissing him forcefully, and somehow in all his guilty imaginings about this moment it foolishly never included how fiercely Miles goes after what he wants. Maybe because Gregor can't imagine being what he wants.

(That is a worry left above, somewhere else, to be looked at later.)

It startles a soft moan out of him, fingers tightening on Miles's waist, using that hold as leverage to keep him in place as Gregor starts to kiss back. Because the wave is still cresting through him and he returns the kiss with equal fervor, hungrily, eyes closing automatically just to feel his mouth that he'd only ever looked at before, wondering. Before long he introduces tongue, pushing his way in, dizzy enough to demand.

For these few long moments as they kiss, that is the only thing Gregor is thinking of. His mind is blank as an empty page waiting to have this memory inscribed on it, blank but for the pervasive, ringing sense of finally, and of desire catching fire piece by piece as it turns into outright lust.]

[ He gladly parts his lips for Gregor, nipping ever so gently in return, just enough to barely catch Gregor's bottom lip when they have to draw in breath. The hand at his shirt stays there, knuckles white; his other hand reaches up to cup the side of Gregor's face. Fingers rough against Gregor's jawline, not callused (not as a Vor lord, no) but scarred in spots. Miles inches closer too, wanting proximity as much as anything else they're doing with their mouths. With Gregor down on one knee, Miles is just about comfortable, with no awkward neck craning needed or tiptoeing to get where he needs to be. (Not that he minds. But there is a certain practicality to being on the same level.)

God. Even if he weren't completely into this - and he is, no question about that - that fire would do him in. It spreads gladly to him, Miles himself all dry tinder in comparison. Ready to catch at the slightest spark, much less this inferno. Fortunately Miles is all bright flames himself. Even as it consumes him, it enriches him, making him feel fuller, more whole with Gregor there to burn with him ...

He wants, oh yes. He wants very desperately. And he can feel Gregor wanting him in return, which is the hottest damn thing about the whole thing. So much of Miles' relationship troubles are caused by - or stem from - not being sure if he's wanted or not. Surely more towards the nod, with everything. A tiny, painful flash of the young woman who'd been so terribly fascinated by Miles' physical body, but who had cared not a bit for the person Miles himself was. But Gregor drowns it out in an instant; Miles can only reel, basking in the glow of knowing for sure that Gregor wants him.

How can he say no to that? He never wants to, ever. ]

[The feedback loop this generates is intoxicating. The fire is consuming; it eradicates all better judgement, eliminates doubts or second guessing from his mind. Everything has been pent up for so long-- not just his feelings for Miles but all of his feelings, everything, all of his anxieties and fears and unfulfilled longing just not to be alone. Gregor has never kissed someone he felt safe with before and it lances straight through his brain, dismantles his defenses. He can feel how receptive Miles is and he takes it as desperate, hungry encouragement, a far-off dream fulfilled. He never wants this to end.

Because when it ends, he's going to start thinking again.

Gregor impatiently pulls him closer toward him, tugging him around his upraised knee to fit in the crevice of his hip. His chest is flat against his-- an odd, jarring note rings through him, but he hastily ignores it, abstractly discomfited. Every thwarted urge rises up for competition at once, but the easiest one to do wins out, and he tears his mouth away to breathe just long enough to tug the collar of his shirt aside, to reapply his lips to the juncture of Miles's neck and shoulder in an open-mouthed kiss.

But he's reckless with the wild certainty that this is never going to happen again, and his most furtive lusts take over: Gregor sets his teeth on his flesh and sucks, hard, around the bite. Claiming.]

[ A strange sort of laugh ripples through Miles. Not laughing at Gregor, oh no. Rather he's giddy about the whole thing, buoyed up by the blazing heat between them, beyond the point of thought much like Gregor. He leans into Gregor's guidance, tilting his head to give the man full access to the crook of Miles' neck.

He shivers, slightly, as an answering electric current goes through him and the link. It feels good, but more importantly Miles can feel that sensation of being claimed too. Thrills at it, revels in it. Gregor wants him, Gregor wants to keep him, Gregor wants to keep this. He wraps both arms loosely around Gregor's neck now, turning his face to press a kiss to Gregor's temple in return.

Murmured and breathless: ]

Your Lord Vorkosigan.

[The bottom of his stomach drops out. Everything he's been ignoring, all of the swirling fears, see their opportunity and jump up and snatch at him all at once.

Gregor tears himself away and falls back to land heavily on the floor, breathing hard, his legs strewn out in front of him. Oh, God. Oh God.] What am I doing? [There is a note of thin despair thrumming through his voice, through his veins, his hands scrubbing at his face as if to scrub himself clean.

... say something I will dearly regret later... And how he regrets it. For what is rising up in a sick current is self-directed disgust flooding him, all the fire snuffed out and killed. Gregor is trying to pull himself back from Miles mentally, withdrawing all his eager contact, like packing your things into a suitcase to leave. The link is narrowing and narrowing but he can't get it off, it won't close completely, he's lost that capacity now, and the despair gains a bleak, hopeless razor's edge.

He'd tried to cut Miles off before he could feel too much of that, but it's pointless. He'd already felt so much from him. Gregor had practically manipulated him into kissing him, blasting desire at him like that. He'd taken advantage of him-- he knows he doesn't like men-- he'd been mostly drunk and in a vulnerable moment and here is Gregor thinking selfishly of himself-- there's no way Miles can honestly want him, so all that he'd been feeling from him must've been, in some way, coerced. Reflected from him, swept up along with the force of his feelings. There's nothing else it could be, with a liege-lord pressing himself on his male liege-sworn wanting to own him. His teeth on his neck are the very least of what Gregor wants to do, and he could coerce Miles all through it. He nearly had gone that far, and farther.

The roiling ugliness in him is enough for him to drown himself in. The sensation of his skin crawling with self-disgust is powerful enough as to be nearly physical.]

[ Very nearly physical indeed. Miles suddenly finds himself fighting a wave of nausea as the fire winks out, replaced by oppressive, horrifying darkness. If not for the link slamming mostly closed just then, he might have seriously had to fight against his stomach to keep all that wine from coming back up.

But no - the immediate trauma passes, to be replaced by shivering cold. Gregor's warmth is enough to prompt a soft, answering wail from Miles' side of the link. Torn from Miles' own razor-sharp areas, he can only bleed and bleed from the perceived rejection. Did Gregor not want him after all? After all that, had he just realized that Miles wasn't good enough for him after all?

No, he insists fiercely, squashing that particular strain of self-pity before it can even start. (The rough part bleeds, still, but it's not the point.) It all goes back to the reason why Miles had been so hesitant about his own confused feelings to begin with. That damn poisonous shadow of Serg making Gregor doubt - everything. He's sure that's what he feels now, as obscured as it may be by the shuttered link. Then, the only answer is to show Gregor the unfiltered truth. He drops carefully in front of Gregor, kneeling to the side of his emperor's legs, and reaches out to take his hand. In the same moment, he pushes what he can through his side of the link - the equivalent of an arm stuck through a barely open doorway. Even if Gregor could close it all the way, then he would hurt that tendril of Miles poking through.

And then, through that outstretched projection, Miles burns. Burns with the familiar loyalty he'd shown during that deep mind dive, but also of brilliant acceptance. Of all of Gregor, head to toe, peak to depth. There is hunger there too, a crackling desire that is absolutely not a reflection. Guilty, perhaps, to demand so much from a friend, but in the moment all Miles wants is more. And then too a little self-righteous anger. Gentler, not directed precisely at Gregor, but a strident note nonetheless. Don't I get a say in this? he says over their link, furiously bright. Who gave you the right to decide I can't want you?

Because he does, oh god he does. It's all he can do to only touch Gregor's hand instead of roving all over the rest of him all at once. ]

[He doesn't mean to-- he thinks he should keep pulling away, keep retreating-- but Gregor is so hungry for touch and reassurance after a lifetime of carefully dispensed, considerate contact that he can't bring himself to cooperate with his own better judgement. His hand spasms closed around Miles's, gripping it, and he needs that burning loyalty and acceptance as badly as plants need light to live. His whole being strains toward it automatically, the link widening slowly again in automatic welcome.

Usually, Gregor is careful to keep the real depths of his loneliness from Miles. Especially lately, since he's developed these feelings, he's kept it locked down in the corner of his mind he doesn't show him. But now it is a yawning void of desolate isolation, pierced with gratitude for those who puncture it.

He can't deny the justification behind that anger, he can't. But it's so hard to pit it against his old fears, which have had so long to entrench themselves, and have found such fertile ground in his mind, roots spread throughout. Sorry-- I'm sorry. It comes out like a gasp, with his physical breathing ragged. Not even sure what he's sorry for.

You...] I know you don't like men, [he says out loud, roughly.] And I can't-- be your test. I can't. I don't just want to hold your hand, Miles-- you don't know what I want. [The shame associated with his desires creeps upward out of that pit of loneliness, grabs hold of his throat, and is hot and thick enough to smother him.]

[ He stays bright then, as bright and brilliant as his soul will allow. Still radiating nothing but acceptance and love and that crackle of desire too. He'd jump in and fight all of Gregor's issues right now if he thought that would help; the tempting thought crosses his mind before he decides no, that's an extremely bad idea. He'll stay here as close as Gregor will allow him, but not cross that invisible boundary of privacy.

(He knows that loneliness, though. It doesn't run as deeply for Miles, given his family and his love life thus far, but it's a tributary to his deep well of self-worth. In the end, they both believe that they will be alone. Miles is here to furiously disprove that for both of them.)

Physically, he snorts. ] So what? I should go fool around with other men before coming back to you? [ Miles shakes his head just picturing it. He wants Gregor and only Gregor, dammit. Everything else falls away into nothing in comparison. ] We'll find out together. What we want, both of us.

[Typical that Miles figures out how to combat his own conviction that he'll be alone the second he needs to fight Gregor's. Really, it's typical. There's a helpless, drawn out huff of laughter, the sort of disbelief that comes with too much emotion all at once.]

It's that simple? [he asks, incredulous. Unwillingly, there's a swift pang of dark possessiveness at imagining Miles with other men. For some reason he doesn't care nearly as much about it with women-- he's been withstanding that quite well, really, Miles going on dates-- but he'd been using his heterosexuality as an excuse to keep himself suppressed for so long, and... He's supposed to be his.

Gregor cringes at the thought and hides his face in his hand again.]

I've been trying not to let you feel that, [he mutters.]

[ Miles, meanwhile, can't hide - or fake - the fluttering thrill that goes through him at that. His. Gregor's. Someone wanting him enough to stake a claim on him seems blissful beyond all words. It's all his desperation to get married reduced down to one simple, achievable goal. Be with Gregor. He doesn't even have to convince someone to like him - just convince Gregor not to hate himself. Worlds easier in comparison, he's sure of it.

With a gentle tug, he raises Gregor's other hand to his lips. Kisses the back of it, brushing his thumb over Gregor's knuckles. He murmurs: ]

Why not?

[His whole breathing is arrested, stutters to a stop, has to be started again. Then a shiver runs over him, a light tremor from head to toe.

It's okay. It's okay. Miles doesn't mind, he wouldn't lie to him... He wants him, he's not just appeasing him or deceiving him to make him happy, Gregor knows that because he can feel it. He hasn't closed the link. He just wanted to kiss his hand because he wanted to.

Gregor hasn't hurt him. Has he been denying himself this whole time for nothing? But somehow, that doesn't sting like it should, because he's too dazed at the complete reversal of what's going on in his head to care about that. All of his self-denial is so rote it's worn grooves in him, familiar tracks-- refusing to let himself act on his feelings for Miles, hating them and feeling ashamed of them, was just one new thing in a lifetime of containing himself.

But this one is... okay. More than okay, from what he can feel.

His eyes close. He takes it as a real question, admits in a low, bare whisper,] I scare myself.

[ Miles keeps his mouth where it is for a moment, his breath warm against the back of Gregor's hand. (Wants more, craves more - no, hold for a moment. Don't scare Gregor at this critical moment.) Gregor has very good reason to be scared. Serg's shadow, as Miles had guessed, in addition to everything else. Good god, had Gregor been allowed to love anyone? Had he allowed himself?

In a small, secret compartment of his own mind, he curses Cavilo for surely making this harder than it needs to be. ]

I've seen you. All of you, remember? There's nothing to be afraid of, truly.

[His life hasn't been all deprivation. Gregor has loved in careful, grateful amounts, directed at the appropriate parties. But loving with abandon, knowing it's allowed and there's no complications, no manipulation or deception behind it-- able to just lose himself in the feeling-- No, he's never done that. And he doesn't trust himself either, to lose himself in it.]

I didn't have these feelings then. They... they started right after. I've never felt like this before.

[Still speaking quietly, painfully, each word extracted from his soul. Gregor tugs his hand back over but only to take Miles's with it, pull it to his forehead and press it there in exhausted supplication, elbow braced on one upraised knee. He can't deny Miles's sincerity, which strips him of most of his objections. And he's not really objecting, truly, but he is... explaining.]

[ After that dive, eh ... He remembers waking up next to Gregor on the couch after, and feeling distinctly post-coital in its wake. Well. That makes them about even then. He tries to swallow the flush that comes to his face thinking about it; he'd been so sure that he'd ruined things, himself. Now he's kicking himself a bit for not doing something with it. (Too early? Would Gregor have reacted badly? Ah, well.)

He slides closer, following behind his hand. The other one he reaches to rest, lightly, against Gregor's hip. He fights back the temptation to crawl directly into Gregor's lap and curl up there - though the mental image of wanting to do so is quite bright. He'd just about fit. ]

For anyone?

[ That's a bad thing, he reminds himself, as another flutter goes through his stomach. Gregor ought to have had lots of love. All the love. And yet, he thrills a bit having Gregor all to himself. ]

[(Definitely too early. If Miles thinks he's skittish now...)

Contrary to expectation, that bright flash of Miles wanting to crawl into his lap soothes him. Right. What had he been thinking? The whole reason he'd... he can admit it to himself now, fallen in love with Miles is because it's so unlikely Gregor even could impose himself on him. There's no need for doubt; Miles will go after what he wants, and welcome him, and accept him.

That's how he'd gotten here.

He feels too that selfish satisfaction at having Gregor's singular attention, and a smile finds his lips, tired with emotion but wry and warm.] For anyone, at all, [he promises.] I told you you were blind. [And he reels him in, dragging him into his lap whatever haphazard way he will fit, here on the kitchen tile. It's one of the most undignified things he's ever done, it's careless, and he doesn't give a damn.

It's so freeing he barely recognizes the sensation.]

[ If his brother or parents walked in right now to the two of them cuddling on the kitchen floor ... god, Miles isn't sure he could ever live that down. Otherwise he doesn't give a damn about dignity. Not when he finds that he does fit very nicely against Gregor, his small, bony frame light against his emperor's. He angles his chin up to rest against the crook of Gregor's neck even as he slides both arms loosely around his waist, clasping them in the back.

Okay, so maybe it crane his neck a bit to look up at Gregor from this position. But otherwise he is thoroughly satisfied by their proximity. He does the mental equivalent as well, nestling himself close in their link. ]

I was blind not to see this. [ And then finally, a small breathless flicker of guilt. ] How long were you like this? About me?

[Gregor dares anyone to walk in and try to embarrass him about getting to finally hold Miles Vorkosigan beyond all reason and expectation. He will stare them into silence.

He burrows into the link, too, twining himself as close with Miles as he can, sinking deep into that wordless reciprocity. It's okay, he reminds himself again, bewildered by the reality of it. Miles is so solid and fragile and perfectly fitted to him, seated on one leg.

He dodges that guilt. It was his own fault for staying quiet for so long and moreover he doesn't care.] It doesn't matter. You said we could figure it out together. [Half fishing for affirmation and half lingering, swimming uncertainty about how much he can unleash himself. Surely he can't let go of everything ... He flatly refuses to hurt Miles, in any capacity. His equilibrium with this teeters on that.]

Edited 2016-01-28 23:55 (UTC)

[ No hurting Miles can work with. He's having a similar thought anyway, trying to convince Gregor that this is safe before moving onto anything more exciting. Which starts with another blinding blaze of loyalty, agreeing with Gregor with hardly any reserve at all. ]

Right. Together. [ He means that, truly he does. A soft tendril of fondness through their link. ] So I won't feel guilty if you don't worry about me too much.

As long as I can feel you, there's nothing to worry about, [he says softly, the words pressed into his hair.] You burn away everything else, like this.

[And lest Miles think he means that as a complaint, Gregor digs himself in deeper into his head, the link flaring open wider yet to accommodate how thoroughly he wants to entangle himself in that certainty and loyalty and light. With that to submerse himself in, fears can't reach up out of the depths to choke him. Using Miles to protect himself from his own weaknesses, trusting that he won't mind.

It takes a few long moments of this for him to settle, even so, the tension easing gradually downward to something more comfortable. As it happens, the first wisps of real, formed love start to trickle over, full and thick and golden as honey. What he's been hiding all this time.]

[ Oh.

Miles had been getting ready to respond - something about not worrying being good, something about vowing to protect Gregor from whatever he likes - when he feels that love start to trickle over into his side of the link. It's not as though he's never felt love over telepathy like this before - everyone he's shared this with has overwhelmed him at this point - but this is something new. More solid, more ... He melts a bit in it, feeling it soften the edges of that ragged, bloody scar from Beta Colony. Settling at the bottom of that hideous hole he calls his self worth.

It stays there. He can feel the bottom now - deep and dark, but no longer unfathomable. A tiny lingering pool of sweetness to mark the edges of his psyche. He has to draw in a deep, shuddering breath, almost not wanting to feel more. Give him a moment to revel in this memory first. And maybe swallow past the lump in his throat. ]

[For some reason, he'd never followed his feelings through to the other logical conclusion, the one that wasn't hurting Miles: that he could return some of the solace he already provides Gregor with. It's humbling and eye opening. He'd let his self-loathing take over his whole perspective; it'd made him short-sighted. And as always, Gregor feeling that he can meaningfully contribute, help instead of just harm, makes all the difference in the world.

The steady trickle is maintained, careful not to overwhelm him once he feels that response but unable to repress it fully now that it's been unstoppered. Finally, finally he does start to feel truly safe.

Gregor shifts enough to reach his neck again, this time kissing down his throat in a long, tender line. A ripple of pure pleasure just at getting to do this shivers through him.]

Mmm. You didn't think it was just attraction for me, did you?

[ Solace, indeed. Not enough to instantly heal him, but a real and true bit of progress, however small. Someday, with enough of that feeling, the hole might close over completely. At last he manages to come back to himself, the shock of it dying back down to steady pleasantness. Still a little teary-eyed, though, as he tilts his head back for Gregor.

And - has to laugh just a little. It sort of ruins that intimate gesture halfway through, making him bob up and down a bit while Gregor is kissing him. The mental image of Gregor wanting Miles just for sex is beyond laughable. As if they could tease just that thread out of their friendship, when the friendship was there on so many levels long before all this. Wherever this leads, Miles has faith that there is a relationship tied up in it somewhere.

(He has the abrupt, dizzying urge to propose on the spot.) ]

Of course not. And of course I knew you cared for me before, but - you ought to feel this Gregor. It's incredible.

[ He tries to reflect it back, not quite able to grasp the nuance of it. Like trying to capture a sunset with crayons. ]

[Usually there's some question of whether it's returned when someone effectively proclaims their love. Gregor's never really doubted it, though-- that fierce loyalty is love and he's known it all along-- and if the tenor of it as romantic or sexual or platonic or fraternal had not been quite defined before, he doesn't particularly feel as if he needs to define it now, either. No, for Gregor, the point of this is getting to express his feelings.

He doesn't need it reflected. He revels in feeling himself cause this change in Miles, making him teary-eyed and then laugh at the ridiculousness of the comment, as intended. Gregor smiles against his skin and then kisses it again. Of course there's a relationship. There's no point in having the casual-or-serious discussion -- they both know the answer to that.

(If one of them were female, Gregor would say yes and damn the politics about marrying a Vorkosigan. He'd already have thought about it, already nervously wondered about plans. As it is... they'll have to be happy with what they have. And he is happy right now, unfathomably, shockingly happy, though the whole thing feels precarious, delicately balanced and able to be toppled over with a misstep.)]

I'm feeling you feeling it, which is better, [he corrects him.] I've been feeling it for a while now.

[But, to make sure they don't go down that path, he whispers into his ear,] What do you think about getting off the floor and out of the kitchen? [That precariousness is holding, though Gregor knows he's challenging it with this suggestion. But he feels greedy, swept away, covetous. That want is returning, setting up a low thrum, turning the fullness of his love into a darker amber.]

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