Mark Pierre Vorkosigan / "Peter Kane" (
jacksonian) wrote in
barrayar2016-01-22 09:49 pm
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I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk
All the other starters are so beautiful but instead I'm coming in and ruining everything with this useless post with this sad sack
Comment to this post and I will write you something
Comment to this post and I will write you something
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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.) ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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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He decides, instead, to focus on Gregor again. The kissing was thrilling; the sucking is nothing short of an electric shock. He shivers as it goes through him, watching Gregor through half-lidded eyes. He abruptly sees the appeal of the gesture, oh yes. Recalling certain other body parts, which are definitely awake now.
Is this what you wanted to do? he sends across their link, considering that Gregor's mouth is occupied. Warm approval ripples through him along with the statement: gentle, pleased, and encouraging. ]
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Gregor kept himself pressed small, his wants correspondingly minimized. Having all this freedom all at once is dizzying. There's shyness, a tentativeness to him that he isn't showing physically, in equal measure to the blistering want coursing through him. Earlier it'd overtaken him completely, but now he's had time to think rationally, and it's more balanced.
That doesn't stop him from taking in more of his finger, rubbing at the base of it with his, adding just a hint of teeth to see how he likes that. He likes feeling that response in Miles, those parts coming awake. He knows exactly what he's doing.]
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He tempers the image even as it unspools, though, knowing that they ought to go a bit slower than that. For both their sakes. What Gregor's doing is good too. Yes. Exceptionally good. He reaches his other hand for Gregor's head, running his fingers through the emperor's hair.
It's a good idea. All of it is. ]
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But maybe... maybe if he's feeling that Miles wants that from him, unprovoked, unasked for, he can believe that it's the truth. That Gregor, as long as he's careful, wouldn't be doing anything bad by giving it to him. It seems too much what he wants to be real, and yet earlier Miles had liked his teeth on his neck.
All of it? he challenges back, all that dark intent and churning conflict behind the words. Don't say something you don't mean, tacit beneath it.
He needs to test it. Test his sincerity, that it's not just fantasies. But not-- not too fast, not too much at once, like Miles had thought. Their telepathy gives him another preliminary way to check, and Gregor opens up the fastened box in the corner of his mind that he hides from Miles and lets one vile part of himself slither out: his greed to have power over him, to feel him vulnerable beneath him and accepting. To Gregor, who's been ingrained to hate power, it's horrifying-- and it's exhilarating to imagine that certainty, that there is nothing hidden from him, no weakness he could show, loneliness eradicated. Safety.
This is what you'd be getting yourself into, he seems to say, checking-- me wanting control over you that I am not, actually, meant to be afforded.]
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All of it, he returns fiercely. There are things he must explore about his sexuality, that he's less sure of, but that's an easy one. You don't quite understand what it means for me to feel that. Because the flip side of that intense physicality, of being utterly at someone else's mercy, is the mercy. Knowing for sure that Gregor truly wants him is the balm that Miles needs to keep going. Gregor doing it for Miles first and foremost, and then himself, is beyond attractive. It adds a ridiculously hot layer to it in fact.
As fast and hard and rough as you can, he continues, blissfully feeding Gregor more mental images. Remember how I stop feeling my body when you're holding onto my pain? It's like that. I forget it. Paradoxically, maybe - he's feeling so much that he can't focus on any one thing, and thus it all slides into beautiful oblivion. ]
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He can't deny that it'd be for Miles, not himself. Somehow that shade of it had escaped him before, startles him now to realize it-- makes it almost forgivable. Gregor wants to take him apart... but not to see him reduced. He wants to break him down so that he is sure his every component piece has his mark on it, his thumb print, claiming but also proving to Miles how much he loves him, that he can do it with such precise, directed care.
All of that echoes in response to what Miles shares, and finally Gregor answers, humbled, Then I'll try to learn to let that part out. Without panicking myself. It helps, to poke some fun at it, though he still feels twisted up a bit imagining himself actually doing it. For today, I just want to-- to feel you. I want to feel what it's like in your head when you come. When I'm the one who makes you come.
And he places another kiss on his hand, this one oddly chaste in counterpoint to his words, solicitous. Will you let me?]
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It doesn't stop him from grinning a bit wickedly at Gregor, flipping through some other, less taxing options for managing that with Miles. Hands and mouth are both safe enough if they don't want to go too far. He also reaches out to Gregor, tugging him a bit closer in the link. An invitation to step over the line into Miles' head, rather than Miles bursting into Gregor's like a whirlwind as he always does.
Of course. Let's find out how it feels together. ]
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They're both catching up to each other in different ways, so best not to dive in too quickly. Which does not in any way mean he is less excited for it. He smiles helplessly back at that wicked grin, and accepts that invitation, easing his way into his mind with care and curiosity. Gregor doesn't spend that much time directly in here, given that Miles is always bursting in and is welcome to do it, but now he settles himself in comfortably. The instant, profound feeling of safety is enough to take his breath away.
It shocks him how much more urgency he feels, once sure he's safe, his desire going from a steady undercurrent to a river. He's never experienced that before; his skin prickles with the insistent urge to touch, and with this newfound confidence, he slides gracefully off the bed and down to the floor, sinking to his knees between Miles's. Gregor rests his hands on top of them, eyes meeting his.]
May I? [he asks quietly, out loud, for the verbal confirmation. There's no question what he's asking-- and God but how he wants to, wants it like this, even, with him on his knees and Miles understanding every connotation of how much he's thumbing his nose at all the restraint he usually keeps himself under.]
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He welcomes Gregor into his mind gladly, doing the mental equivalent of wrapping both arms around his emperor and holding him close. Gregor can easily feel the texture of Miles' mind at this level of proximity: bright and pulsing with energy on the surface, but teetering above an abyss. There is no subtle shift from top to bottom, no ocean to fall through to get to the core. Miles is all chasms, utter freefall until the impact at the bottom. But the heights are so lovely and bright and warm - Gregor in particular is guided to a safe place for both of them, with the cliff edges far enough away to keep from rolling the both of them off accidentally.
Which is good, because Miles' attention is immediately elsewhere. On Gregor kneeling before him, undoing the height differential between them in one move. He likes that too. He likes nearly any spot on the scale, really. Miles draws in a sharp little breath, his mind twisting into fiery, anticipatory knots. ]
Please. Yes.
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He'd picked this to start with because it's something he's never done before. There's no reminders here, nothing possible to trip him up. As he looks up at him, he suddenly thinks lack of experience may not be a good thing, given he doesn't know where to start. But before he can get too far down that path, Gregor sinks in further to that knotted-up anticipation and leans on that instead. Lets his own sincere eagerness to do this carry him through any self-consciousness.
(It's Miles. It's Miles, so it's okay to not know what he's doing... it's okay to make a mistake, if he does... He doesn't have to keep himself in check, or watch for anything. It's okay.)
He slides his hands down first, defying expectation. He goes after his shoes and socks, prying them off efficiently but with a sort of attentive interest. All of it feels fresh and fascinating to Gregor, and when he goes to unhinge his leg braces and set them carefully aside, there's no hesitation to him. He already knows how to do it; his hands don't stutter over them. His palms slide up his calves briefly just to feel skin to skin, appreciation all through him, and he retracts them only because he needs them above cloth to proceed. They return one each to the knees on either side of him, and he shifts up properly to start working his way upward. ]
I had a dream about this. [ A short glimpse of his own wicked look. ] About getting to suck you. I remember being extremely disappointed when I woke up.
[ Also intensely sick of himself, but Gregor's not saying that, is resolutely turning this from an unpleasant memory to a better one in this new light. ]
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He's still trembling slightly when Gregor rests his hands on Miles' knees. That enthusiasm doesn't flag - the thrum of keep going doesn't diminish - but there's a second level of effect going on. One of his ghost perching close, to see if this becomes an unpleasant memory turned to a happy one. Just like Gregor, in that respect.
In that context, Gregor mentioning the dream is exactly right. It discharges some of that electric nervousness, giving Miles a chance to ground himself. ]
We can fix that. [ He murmurs the words. ] If you would only help me with my pants ...
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Gregor shoots him a smirk -- not a commonly seen expression on his face -- and consciously puts aside teasing him too much, though that's another fantasy he's going to look forward to fulfilling. This one he does share with Miles. It still sends a thrill through him every time he realizes he can plan on it now. ]
Have you had this done before? [ he asks curiously, because really, he doesn't know. He's only twenty. Gregor's hands creep up his thighs to his waistband, unerringly find the button on his pants, and ease it open. His own anticipation is shifting inside him eagerly as he moves to the zipper, sliding it down... ]
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Miles snorts a bit at the teasing. Really, Gregor. Who do you think he is? He may shudder to contemplate the outcome of his previous relationships, but he's had them. Had this much, at least. ]
Not quite like this. But yes. It's a bit less - committing than some other things one might try on a first effort.
[ Not that there was any risk of getting a young woman from Beta Colony pregnant. It was also easier on him, still learning his body and its limitations. He didn't want to break anything. This, at least, would have to be rough to the point of unpleasantness for him to risk injury. His breath shudders as Gregor works the zipper down, shifting his hips in anticipation of his own. He is ridiculously hard right now with all this build up. ]
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But, yes, no more teasing. Gregor doesn't waste time now: he slips the edge of his underwear low enough to let him spring free, licks a long stripe up his palm to wet it, and takes hold. It's his first time holding another man's cock and he waits for a flare of uncertainty, or self-consciousness, or even more of that disgust he's accustomed to, but this deep in Miles's head, nothing happens. It feels too good to feel that corresponding flare up on contact to doubt anything.
Gregor looks serious and intent, but inside he's all pricking interest and hunger. For a moment he just holds him, explores the feel of it, and then he leans in to place an open-mouthed, messy kiss where the head flares. Testing. ]
Not bad, [ he murmurs. ]
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No - not here, either. Good so far.
[ A bit breathless already. ]
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[ Because that's half of what he loves about Miles, the force of his personality and how free and open he is with Gregor. Having sex that way seems like a dream to him-- a hot one. So much easier to be self-assured with all that heat flaring up in his mind uninhibited, and Gregor listens to it, lets it wash over him and wipe away everything else but the present moment.
He leans in and takes him into his mouth, steadying him with one hand, the other resting on his inner thigh. Nothing too wild at first, just taking in the weight and the taste on his tongue, swallowing automatically at the faint, musky bitterness. When Gregor thinks to look up and take in his expression, the exercise stops being academic and becomes inflammatory. This is him, him doing this to Miles, and it's funny that he'd never thought of this as another form of power before.
Gregor makes a soft sound of pleasure and eases down further, starting to suck. ]
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Very gently, he fists one hand in Gregor's hair, careful not to pull. Just steadying himself as Gregor's motions start building even more heat at the base of his being. ]
Not holding back - for you. [ He wants to revel in every moment of this, dammit, and make it last forever. ]
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The result is that he's able to relax and enjoy this, finding it easier than he ever remembers sexual intimacy being before, with anyone. Gregor by no means knows what he's doing, but this time that doesn't matter. They're finding out together, like Miles had said. He loses himself to it after a while, a constant hum of contentment rising up in his head, his own hardness forming between his legs that he ignores. It should be demeaning like this, learning how deep he can go (not very), hearing the obscene slick noises he's making, but it's-- not.
It's oddly empowering. His free hand has found its way up under the hem of Miles's shirt at the back, presses tight to the dip of his curved spine, pulling him in closer in counterpoint to his mouth.
This is better than my dream, he tells him, thrumming with pleasure, after several long minutes of leisurely sucking. Come on, Miles. I want to hear you. And he does, that banked wave of his fierce want earlier starting to build back up inside him.]
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A soft groan escapes his lips as he comes. Louder as he goes, taking Gregor's encouragement literally. Inside his head the orgasm is a starburst of bright hot heat - scorching his senses to nothing for a moment, leaving only smudged black shadows behind. His hand tenses in Gregor's hair and then relaxes as the aftershocks go through him and then begin to subside.
He honestly can't remember the last time he'd had one hat good. Apparently it does make a hell of a difference who he's with. Someone inside his head who cares about every aspect of sex, not just getting off (though that part is good too, oh yes.) He gasps afterwards, leaning back against the hand pressed to his spine. ]
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He absently wipes his mouth off, breathing hard. Miles leaning back against his hand provokes him to rise up from his knees and press him down on the bed beneath him, an awkward, uncomfortable position for Gregor that he does not care one whit about. He wants him under him, wants to feel him gasping. His mouth fastens to his neck again, at the same spot he'd aborted midway through earlier (he might be developing a thing for Miles's neck, he thinks remotely) and cradles his smaller form to him as he lets him ride out the boneless aftermath, suckling lightly at his throat. ]
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He sighs softly, fingers threading through the hair at the base of Gregor's neck. Chest rising and falling against Gregor's as he gets his breath back in slow bursts. Murmured, half-joking: ]
Is it too early to propose?
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