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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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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.
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Oh, yeah?
[ A bit of a challenge to that. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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That doesn't make this trust between them any less amazing. He revels in it as much as he does in the sight of Gregor's body. Good god, you're attractive, he says, light but deeply appreciative. He could definitely get used to men. All of you. Mentally and physically. ]
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But he's never had someone he outright loved flatter him before, and it tears down every resistance, leaves him bare. Gregor ducks his head, flustered and pleased and burning with the skin-prickling sensation of being seen, in every way. Normally he hates that, too, even more intensely, but-- again, he's never had someone he was willing to be this vulnerable around.
And he is vulnerable, intensely so. It's not about taking his shirt off. It's about how long he's wanted someone to really know him and then say that they liked what they saw, someone whose opinion he respects. Gregor actually flushes a light dusting of pink as he drags his eyes back up to Miles again.
No less than you. Every time you sit on the counter, you're at the perfect height for kissing. I can't stop noticing. ]
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You mean an actual normal height, he thinks back, teasing. If I'd been as tall as I was supposed to be, I'd be at the perfect height for kissing all the time. ]
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But then it wouldn't be remarkable when you are, or nearly so distracting, he points out. Like an opportunity I shouldn't be wasting. Or when I'm sitting down and you're walking by, sometimes I want to just... reel you in.
A mental image of snagging Miles by the wrist and then tugging him over, pulling him in to stand between his legs so Gregor can kiss him, sometimes leisurely, sometimes passionately. ]
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Because he can, now.
It's nice to feel. I like you disarmed. Knowing that I can do that... ]
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Now his voice drops. ] I'll do that any time, you know. It doesn't just have to be making out. As long as there's no chance of an audience... It was my pleasure. [ It's unbelievably thrilling to have someone he can say dirty things like this to with all sincerity, exposing that part of himself. ]
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God, now he's distracted despite having Gregor right here in front of him. Refocus, dammit. ]
Of course I do. Why shouldn't I want everything? It's the only way to have anything at all.
[ He means that in general, not Gregor specifically. Gregor is no consolation prize in the slightest. More like something he'd thought to be out of reach and mourned a bit in passing ... He leans up again to nip at the hollow of Gregor's neck. ]
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Gregor lets out a shuddering sigh at that nip, relaxing down into him almost bonelessly. The combination of what's going on mentally and physically, along with his sustained arousal, serves to make him freer with his words. ]
Because wanting something you can't have is hard, [ he murmurs. ] I never thought I'd have you. Not like this. [ A trace of wonder in his voice. ]
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He doesn't let up with his mouth. Instead he pulls Gregor closer and tighter, wanting as much skin contact as possible. You do now, he promises glady. You always had me. It's just a new layer. ]