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

[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.]

[ Bright, brilliant love the whole way - nothing really changed here, other than the electrical crackle making Miles all tingly with other feelings. He'll have to grow that other part of himself to match in intensity. (As much as he is desperately wanting Gregor right now, he is still rather used to being heterosexual. It will take him time to find out what else he likes.) He laughs again as Gregor leans in to whisper. ]

Why not? It's clean, isn't it?

[ Completely joking here; he absolutely demands they find at least somewhere soft to do this on so as not leave him a mess of bone aches afterwards. (He has a sudden - fleeting - temptation to forgo the bone aches entirely. But this is new enough territory without him adding complications to the scale involved.) A bed would be best, but he's impatient now, hardly wanting to get up much less go all the way upstairs ...

His gaze alights on the couch in the living room. The damn awkward couch that he'd felt so guilty about after their mind dive. He has an even stronger temptation to conquer it now by having something literally post-coital atop it instead of metaphorically. Couch, yes. He doesn't try to put the request into words - just gently directs Gregor's attention there.

He lingers for a moment over that smoky amber trickle. Takes it in as greedily as Gregor gives it. ]

[If there is one thing Gregor doesn't doubt, it's Miles growing in intensity as he gets more used to something.

That being said, however similarly impatient Gregor is, he's still more patient than Miles-- and shyer, besides. The idea of christening that infernal couch with actual sex is very tempting, and he sees the humor in it, but picturing someone interrupting them makes him want to shrivel up and avoid people for a week just at the thought. The only thing that's getting him to make lascivious suggestions like this in the first place is that it's Miles and he feels utterly, unquestioningly safe and comfortable with him. He'd let him into the deepest parts of his soul, and come out the better for it... But no one else has attained that privilege and sex is going to have to be done carefully enough for him as it is.

He sends that sense over, of only you, just you, I don't want anyone else to see me-- in itself a gesture of trust, since Gregor doesn't ordinarily admit to shyness this directly-- and then a spark of dry humor. Later, though. One day. When we're sure we won't be interrupted.

Gregor gently starts to extricate himself from him, making the difficult first move to unstick themselves and get upright. The floor really isn't comfortable, though, and Gregor wants space and to be able to relax for this.

I want to enjoy you very thoroughly. A hint of wicked promise.]

[ He finds it very hard to argue with Gregor on that point. The couch, as satisfying as it would be to conquer, would not perhaps be satisfying to enjoy. And the image of, say, his clone brother happening upon them is a little too much - god, perish the thought. His own thoughts waver between embarrassment and jealousy at the thought. Only you, just you indeed. He goes around to his mental links as well while he's thinking about it. Aral's, neatly closed as usual other than their pain share, good. His brother's, non-existent. Also good. His mother's ...

Well that's wide open. An entirely different sort of embarrassment suffuses Miles for a moment as he steadily, quietly clicks it shut. Hoping to god that his mother didn't see any of that. After that even the process of disentangling himself from Gregor isn't so bad. His joints pop faintly as he levers himself back up to his feet; he eyes the wine bottle on the table for a moment before ultimately deciding he doesn't care if it sits out. Maybe someone else will drink it.

God, he's still embarrassed. Better chase it down quick with something more fun or he'll lose the whole thread of this thing. ]

Bedroom, then?

[ Not that there's many other choices, but he likes the image regardless. Picturing Gregor in bed, with all those nice clothes peeled away ... that warms him right back up again. ]

Edited 2016-01-29 03:06 (UTC)

[When he feels Miles do it, it spurs Gregor to automatically check his links as well, and he tightens them all down ever further, that last nudge to go from able-to-be-knocked-on to fully shut and impenetrable. Normally he tries to keep himself at least accessible... not right now. This is for him.

Distracted as he is with that, he doesn't notice that Miles had left his link open with his mother. Which is really for the best because Gregor would just get diverted. Instead he's following Miles, abandoning the wine bottle and trying to stifle a sudden attack of nerves.

Is he really doing this?] Bedroom, [he agrees, because apparently he is, though his stomach is fluttering and turning over. What if this goes terribly? Gregor hasn't had sex since Cavilo and not very many times before that, either. Make that twice, aside from her. It'd seemed fine when he was mouthing at his neck a second ago, but who knows how things will be when they graduate to intimate contact, clothes off, in bed...

There's a whole array of things that could go wrong and Gregor is trying very hard not to think about them. He trusts Miles-- but he doesn't trust himself. His own reactions and desires are a mystery to him. He's never been honest with someone in bed in his life.

They end up in Miles's room by the simple expedient of it being the closer one. Of course, the interior of it is nothing new to Gregor, so there's nothing to distract him from closing the door and turning back to Miles, who's probably been feeling his nerves flutter up and torment him. His whole bearing has closed off just a little again, unable to help himself with what he plans on saying.

Tentatively, and again only because it's Miles and no one else, he says,] I'm not sure how this will go for me. But I'd really... like to find out. And I really want to touch you.

[ Nerves, huh ... Miles is feeling it a bit too, and not just reflected off of Gregor. As he sits on the bed, looking up at Gregor, he can't help but flutter somewhat in return. This is Gregor he's talking about here, not some girl he'd messed up with on Beta Colony, nor Tex or anyone else he's tried since coming here. Gregor, his best friend. Gregor, the emperor.

It's a lot to live up to now that the moment is here. Maybe they should have gone slower. Maybe he really should have slept around with a few men first just to make sure he knows what he's doing. But Miles doesn't do slow; it's either a complete stop or blazing speed, with nothing neutral in between. If he thinks of it like that, then the choice is obvious. Full speed ahead. Sort out the rest later, and hope for luck on the fall downwards ...

All of that filters through him clear as day. Normally, he might hide it, but he feels a responsibility to Gregor to be honest right now. Let Gregor see he's nervous too, so that they can be nervous together and get over it. It reminds him a bit of the Dendarii, in a way. Why not channel just a tiny bit of Naismith to get the ball rolling? ]

Touching first then. [ He decides with an air of confidence, as if he'd just figured out some amazing secret. ] Everything else we'll figure out as we go. I'll tell you.

[ Gregor will be able to feel it with Miles wide open like this. Instant feedback for every move he makes. ]

[Gregor is much more inclined to slow than Miles is, but half the reason he'd fallen for him so hard is that he likes getting to throw caution and prudence to the wind. Every step of his life has had to be carefully calculated, with an eye to the ramifications, not just for him but for everyone. Getting to have this one area where he's allowed to be reckless and impulsive is already heady, pushing him to follow Miles's pace rather than put on the brakes.

But it's interesting, getting to feel that Miles is nervous, too, he just works through it and pushes forward. Gregor never would have guessed that without this link. Some of his own anxiety settles again, and he steps forward, closing the distance so he's not so far. He smiles down at him fondly.]

Please do. I don't mind being told. [Which is a subtle way of saying he doesn't mind being told what to do. Gregor feels he might have to put that out there, in case Miles needs that clarified. Then he sits beside him, instinctively finding his hand with one of his, and has an idea where to start.]

How about I do what I wanted to earlier, that made me pull my hand away? I had a specific urge.

[Gregor has a suspicion that Miles's need to know things extends to knowing things like this. Getting to be playful like this, feeling safe enough for that, is a completely new experience for Gregor and it's coaxing that amber-threaded lust out of him again.]

[ Curiosity is a powerful drive for Miles, even more so than the prospect of sex alone. Combined the effect is rather like a searchlight, suddenly and blindingly concentrated on one spot. Oh yes. He is interested. ]

Let's try it then. Start there.

[ He squeezes Gregor's hand in a way he hopes is bracing. To bolster it, he shoots up another bright flare of trust, utterly, for anything Gregor wants to do. More than anything he wants to make sure Gregor is happy in bed. (Which means Miles needs to be happy too, or risk Gregor being bogged down in Miles' sadness. Win-win to do something that they both like.) ]

[Gregor has been hiding so much that there's a lot to be curious about, though that agreed upon stipulation, their mutual first priority, of making each other happy is going to be a barrier to him revealing most of it. This, however, this is simple and innocent. This time, Gregor can think about it without more than a flicker of habitual self-directed revulsion, there and then gone, shuffled away. He doesn't actually think homosexual acts are awful, it's just... him.

But with Miles right here, it's so easy to sink into that trust and blinding interest and dismiss it altogether. He angles himself to be facing Miles directly, then sets his captured hand on his thigh, turns it over so it's palm up. He examines his wrist and hand for a moment, the smallness of his bones and the fine webbing of scars, and then he strokes his fingertips down the pulse-point of his wrist. Gregor's fingers are long and elegant and unmarked or calloused in any way; they glide along his skin smoothly.

He strokes again, slowly, dragging down into his palm and unfurling his fingers with delicate precision. Quite obviously learning what he feels like, taking it all in, eyes fixed. Inwardly, the pulse of appreciative desire grows stronger, a warm undercurrent, as he finally picks up his unfurled hand by the wrist and presses a kiss to the vulnerable, scarred flesh there, whisper-soft.]

[ Miles' wrist is very small in comparison to Gregor's long fingers; Gregor could easily encircle the narrowest point with his thumb and forefinger. It's strangely vulnerable, having Gregor touching a part of him that would normally not be an intimate on, and making it into an intimate gesture. He shivers lightly with pleasure. Especially when Gregor lifts Miles' hand to his mouth. Miles finds himself tracking Gregor with his eyes the whole way, his pulse quickening.

There's a flash of mental pain too - it's not all surgery scars there, and he remembers Bothari coming in the door to patch him up with alarming speed and steadiness. He has to swallow, hotly, as Gregor's ministrations fight with that memory, putting it to rest for now. He doesn't have to imagine Gregor as a healing force. He is one in truth, balming Miles' issues a bit at a time. Despite the reminders of unhappier moment, Miles is desperately glad to have it overwritten. By Gregor who wants him, Gregor who would never reject him ... quiet joy bubbles up from deep inside him, made sweeter by the pain it had to get through to surface. ]

Keep doing that, please. [ He says, feeling the need to verbalize. To reassure Gregor that this really is all right. ]

[He feels the complicated ugliness roil through Miles, arising from some deep store that Gregor only ever glimpses in him and has never plumbed the depths of, and from the first he doesn't really believe it was about him, or a sign to stop. It's proven true when it subsides into wonder and happiness, when Miles verbalizes, which he does appreciate-- having any ambiguity taken away.

He's reminded of his own flash of revulsion when he'd gone to do this, now similarly gone and replaced with better things.] Putting ghosts to rest, [he murmurs against his skin. Maybe some day it can be only the two of them, and no ghosts.] I want you, Miles. Just you. [A plain, unweighed declaration, as much verbal reassurance as what Miles had given him.

Gregor does keep going then, places another lingering kiss on the center of his palm. And another, an inch further down, and another on the tip of his forefinger, which he takes wholly into his mouth to suckle on. Turning this from a romantic gesture into an equally sexual one and he means every angle of it.]

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