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

[ There's nothing surprising about Miles's inner landscape being sheer drops and firey brightness-- it's so quintessentially Miles, and it puts him at ease to have that running through the back of his head, a constant reassurance of who he's with and how much Miles wants this, and isn't hiding anything. It puts to rest all of his ghosts at once and the resulting lack of nagging worries shocks him all over again.

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. ]

[ Strange how having one's feet tended to can seem so tenderly intimate. Just like kissing Miles' wrists. There's no particular spark at the act - Miles scratches that off on some mental checklist in the back of his head - until Gregor gets to the leg braces. That sets off something of a rather different caliber. Not sexual, but intimate. The braces seem to nearly burn him as Gregor slides them off and sets them aside. And then Gregor's hands linger there for a moment, and it's nearly too much. The appreciation without being reduced to an object, or having his personhood denied ... it's such a small gesture, but it leaves him shaking for a moment.

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 ...

[ One day Gregor is going to spend a truly luxurious amount of time just running his hands over every part of him, suffusing every touch with acceptance and admiration, aided by massage oil and some guesses at technique from watching videos. His own direct attempt to be a panacea to Miles's body image issues. That day is not today, but that response to just taking off his leg braces reminds him of how often he's felt that urge. He decides not to float it to Miles, both to keep it a surprise and because he thinks the suggestion alone might overwhelm him right now.

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... ]

[ Probably best not to; that will be a treasure to approach slowly and gently, under exactly the right conditions. And all the better for it.

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. ]

[ At twenty, Gregor hadn't had oral sex yet. He'd had precisely two encounters with diplomats' daughters and he hadn't felt brave enough to suggest anything other than what they wanted, which in their cases was always vaginal sex. But it's no surprise to him that Miles would be far braver and more adventurous than he ever was.

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. ]

[ Miles twitches his hips in response to that, a shiver going through him both physically and mentally. He artfully holds as still as he can after, not because he doesn't want this - his need is a fire burning all through him, desperate for more - but because he wants to give Gregor enough time to do what he wants to do before Miles loses it. He rather expects that won't take long once h begins in earnest. Every small touch is enough to spark, especially feeling Gregor's mouth ... ]

No - not here, either. Good so far.

[ A bit breathless already. ]

Don't hold back, [ he tells him, eyes darkening with intent. Gregor is shifting on his knees to get into a more comfortable position. ] I want to feel you unrestrained. It won't bother me.

[ 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. ]

[ Just let go, eh. He's usually good at that - and Gregor is helping. It's harder not to just let go like this. He's tilted his head back a little, enough to still watch Gregor through half-lided eyes without staring at him awkwardly. He wants to see Gregor, to know it's him. It's a new thrill each time the realization goes through him again. Gregor doing this for him.

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. ]

[Unfortunately, it's not going to last forever, though Gregor is just the sort to take his time and not hurry. He likes that hand in his hair, another point of contact, and with them so close mentally it smothers any nerves or doubts before they can find breath.

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.]

[ He's close already to begin with; the extra wave of want is enough to send him over the edge, toppling him mentally and physically. A split second is all the warning he really ha, but it's enough for him to reach out to Gregor too, offering to intertwine them. He doesn't know if he can share an orgasm like this but it seems a crime not to try. At least Gregor will be able to see what Miles is feeling ...

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. ]

[ It's the strangest feeling, mind blowing in fact, to feel the orgasm through someone else's head and not his own. He groans, though it's lost and quieter compared to Miles, and feels his erection twitch insistently in his pants even as he's swallowing down come. Gregor has no chance to decide how he feels about swallowing, because having Miles's pleasure coursing through him like a live wire makes the decision for him-- it feels amazing to swallow around him during orgasm, to pull off at just the right time when it's getting too sensitive.

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. ]

[ Miles laughs at that. Not unkindly, oh no. It's sheer joy, and relief, and goddammit Gregor give him a chance to recover before doing something like that. He almost wishes he hadn't come quite so hard so that he could better appreciate Gregor leaning over him. As it is he's just kind of gooey and breathless, arms flung around Gregor's shoulders and pressing the other man closer to his neck. More of that, god yes please...

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?

[ Marriage is a fraught topic for Gregor, but he manages to suppress all the layers of complication and grieved regret that he can't just marry Miles and take it in good spirits. He's still aroused and luxuriating in Miles's happiness, taking it as encouragement to set his hands on his waist and tug him farther up the bed. Miles weighs little enough (definitely under a hundred pounds) that this is easily possible, and Gregor crawls up after him to drape himself over him more fully.

It's the fulfillment of a deep-seated desire he's always denied before, and feeling how much Miles enjoys it makes it impossible to resist. ]

Are you really volunteering for an Imperial Wedding? [ He laughs faintly, burying his face in his shoulder again. As long as he manages not to say Empress, he thinks he can keep this away from memories of Cavilo. ]

[ Very light, both from his skinny frame and his fragile bones; seventy pounds at most, and probably closer to sixty. But oh so appreciative, yes, even laughing a bit more as Gregor just kind of manhandles him on the bed. Also good. He lets a hand trail down Gregor's neck to the front of his shirt; he'd rather like to undo those buttons with his teeth. ]

Oh, god. Please tell me we could elope instead. [ He is more than happy to keep it light. Cavilo is in the back of his mind too, and god forbid Gregor have even the hint of a thought that Miles might want this for power. Perish the thought. Power would be a thing barring him from wanting - this. ]

[ There's a soft voiceless murmur of encouragement at that urge to undo his buttons. Gregor is absolutely never undressed outside of his bedroom except on the rare occasions he goes swimming, so this is quite a thing for him to feel so comfortable with it.

Gregor knows that the last thing Miles wants is to be tied to a desk (Prince-Consort, if such a position were to exist, would invariably be a desk job) and doesn't imagine at all that it's entering into the equation. But it's extremely powerful to him that Miles knows about the Imperium and all that that entails, resting on Gregor's shoulders, knows it and doesn't want it but wants him. Every single piece of that must come together exactly that way for him to fall for someone. The joking is light and he has to keep it that way to contend with the churning emotion that goes through him, but that amber-gold love seeps its way over him again. ]

I'm all for it. Make good on our cover story. [ Gregor nips at his ear playfully. ] You've run off with the Emperor and the Emperor's Own Army and we've declined to return until the fuss is over. [ It's so patently ridiculous that it immediately achieves the status of impossible fantasy. ]

[ Miles does lean up just enough to start undoing them, then. (The teeth prove to be a bit ridiculous in practice, though he recovers my leaning up to kiss the hollow of Gregor's neck as he works with his fingers instead.) Meanwhile taking in that lovely amber-gold love, letting it pool down with the rest still glowing prettily at the bottom of his psyche. He could get addicted to feeling it. It's just so good to have this absolute wonderful thing filtering down into his soul ...

When he's undone enough buttons he slides a hand in, running his fingers lightly along the lines of Gregor's stomach muscles. ]

Ha. What a lovely image, at least until Simon Illyan catches up with us ... I can see the lecture now.

I defy anyone to try to lecture me on being with you. [ There's enough dark intent behind that that makes it clear Gregor will not brook being told no by any uninvolved parties on this subject, not here in De Chima where Barrayar does not exist, and that's the framing context for this impossible fantasy.

He stretches himself up more thoroughly, like a pleased cat, in response to the touches. Possessiveness sparks through him, starting to find more confident purchase; it turns the amber-gold love spiked and protective, sharp. ]

I daresay you wouldn't have anyone who would. Nearly everyone thinks we're already involved.

[ Even his own mother had made sly comments, he realizes in retrospect. His breath hitches as that protectiveness comes through as well - sharper, but oh so bracing as well. He continues to move his hand in slow circles, just feeling, experimentally, for a good place to linger. ]

Because of how our relationship comes off, right? I'm sorry about that-- I couldn't think of a way to discount it, and I thought it had to be awful for you...

[ That guilt probably seems out of place now, but Gregor can't quite let it go. Miles wants to be with him now, or at least to try it out (and what he'll do if he decides it's not for him after all, he has no clue) but that doesn't mean he'd wanted untrue rumors spread about, interfering with his relationships.

As for the physical half of this, Gregor has gone a bit remote with the guilt, has to divert learned habits of response in order to tap into genuine ones. He curls deeper in Miles's head, takes reassurance from it, and lets himself swing one leg over one of Miles's. It places him in the perfect position to press against him as long as he's careful about not putting all his weight on him. ]

I didn't mind, Gregor. I was just terribly afraid for you. I had thought - given everything - you'd be very leery of this.

[ Trying not to call down the shadow of Serg now, dammit, not when Gregor is pressing down against Miles outright. Just enough pressure to feel good too, without straining his bones ... He finds himself recovering more quickly than expected in the face of all this. ]

I am, [ he says lowly. ] I'm having to fight myself every step of the way. But I don't care. If it's a contest between you and-- and them, it's always you. You're worth more.

[ And damn them, anyway, damn them both. Gregor feels defiant out of nowhere, and impulsively settles his weight lower, to the point that it's getting a little dangerous with how breakable Miles is. He's braced himself on his forearms on either side of Miles's head, and he laces the fingers of one hand in his hair tightly.

His arousal is obvious and insistent against him. ]

[ That's just now beginning to hurt, but Miles doesn't care. Not with Gregor leaning over him and threading his fingers through Miles' hair. He wishes it were a bit longer, less military ... maybe he'll let it grow out here.

All tangential. It takes him a moment to take that comment in - worth more, more than any of them - and take a breath, treasuring the feeling. Only then does he allow himself a rather wicked grin as he looks down and considers his options. ]

Let me make it easier then. Let's take another step together.

[ Grow his hair a couple inches just so Gregor can have something to tug? He catches that thought and a whole ripple goes through him, banked lust roaring up again. That grin doesn't help. ]

Oh, yeah?

[ A bit of a challenge to that. ]

[ Well. If Miles had any doubt about Gregor being up for more ... The real question is what. He doesn't have the supplies necessary for anything more direct, alas, though he suspects he could pilfer something from his parents' room. (There's a wild thought.) Better to get creative with what he has.

So he leans up a little, kissing Gregor firmly while his hands slide up Gregor's chest, to where his shirt is still hanging open. Very slowly, very deft with his hands, peeling back the shirt as far as it will go without Gregor having to lift his arms. Let me see all of you, he thinks, opening his eyes just enough to take in Gregor's form as he kisses. ]

[ Miles is ambitious, having wild thoughts like that. Gregor honestly isn't thinking anything more than his hand, isn't sure he'd be prepared for much more-- he can't even bring himself to ask for that much, too conscientious still of drawing Miles into something he doesn't want. When it's all him focused on Miles's pleasure, it's simple. Unambiguous. Gregor's turn...

Gregor sits up to help in the effort, balancing himself on his knees rather than Miles's leg, and shucks off the rest of his shirt before carefully lowering himself again. Not as heavily this time, a bit farther away to let him look. The challenge has all gone out of him with that unadorned request just to see him; it deconstructs his defenses, leaves him teetering inside and ultimately complacent.

You already did. But you can see this, too. He's glad they switched to mind-speak with the intimacy of the moment. Miles probably hasn't seen Gregor shirtless in years-- at least since adulthood. ]

I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

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