shipmaster | (no subject)

[ Oh. That - evokes a complex mess of emotions from him, to the point where his first instinct is to jerk back. Before, he'd been just a bit too Barrayaran to consider any sort of relationship with Bel. Now ... the Barrayaran half of his psyche is muddled and routed, still fragmented in comparison to his Admiral Naismith persona. But he remembers feeling awkward still, and it's awkward now ...

But he also remembers sitting here in the sand and thinking of both Bel and Taura as being ferociously attractive. He'd been so disappointed they wouldn't sleep with him. An old shade rises up too, now that he can remember it: of feeling too stunted and distorted to deserve physical affection of any sort. It's made him incredibly weak to anyone who shows genuine affection to him. He's weak to it now, despite the many, many layers of complexity involved.

Fuck. Why does everything need to be so complicated? Can't he do this once anyway? He and Quinn are all but done, and Taura is a singular relationship all her own. Just once, Bel had said.

It's a long and perilous moment, but he relaxes at the end of it, reaching up with his other hand to cup the back of Bel's head. Just once, he wants this too. ]

[There's no illusions about what this is. After that stumbling, awkward start, Bel deepens the kiss the moment Miles reciprocates. Ounce for ounce, motion for motion. When Miles kisses back, Bel broadens it, tasting him with a passion that had no tones of pity, just desire and eagerness. When Miles wraps a hand behind their neck, Bel closes the space between them, pressed as well as their separate heights manage.

It's a long moment, drinking in Miles, savoring the taste, the feel, comparing it to daydreams and offers. Good God, they wanted this. They wanted every inch of this.

They pull back only a centimeter, breath short and reluctance clear.]

You've been so frustrating. You really should look into that repression problem you have.

[ Miles can't help the soft moan that escapes his lips when Bel pulls back. He's not sure whether to be grateful or frustrated by that pause. God, he needs like a week to get his head on straight ... Hard to do when Bel is so wonderfully warm and physical next to him. ]

What, like die and get a little amnesia? Changes one's priorities around.

[Bel's eyes are bright with that vile irony they call humor.] Well... There's a whole lot of things you can check "would rather die first" off the list now. [They lean just... a little closer.]

[ Miles's own grin is a slash of equal irony. Ah, good ol' black humor. He's fully on board with that. Some sensible part of his brain is telling him to slow down, what the fuck are you doing. Good thing he's never been much interested in listening to the sensible part of his brain. ]

God. I think I've used that exact excuse with you, even.

[ Sarcastically, in the same sort of black humor. Knowing Bel would take it just fine. A slight shiver goes through him as he leans up for another kiss. ]

[Bel's sharp laugh was swallowed between them, and softens into a noise of hungry encouragement. Their hands slide over Miles and... making a little sound of frustration as reach, again, becomes an issue, only breaks for a moment to pull Miles down with them to kneel on the sand, evening the playing field, before returning to what could easily be mistaken for an earnest attempt to devour him whole.

All of their reservations, careful arguments against it are nothing right now. Miles knows what he's doing and lord knows he's got more than enough ability to say no.

No, Bel has NEVER been one not to leap forward.]

[ That's better. Miles loves a tall lover - just look at Taura - but there are certain issues of practicalities that come into play when all he wants to do is go as fast as possible. He makes an encouraging noise, meeting Bel with lusty enthusiasm of his own. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for with a skilled tongue. And hands that rove expertly, feeling the contours of Bel's androgynous form underneath the thin material of their suit.

It's that last part that finally makes him pause. Suits. Dammit. They can do a lot with their mouths, to be sure, but he's going to be very unhappy if he gets all riled up with no way to draw this to completion. ]

I would take - [ he manages between breaths ] - a closet at this point. Damn this sand.

[They lean into Miles' touches, breathy and breathless all at once. Their own hands trace scraping patterns across Miles' suit.

The protest from Miles brings that certain reality back down on Bel as well. Hell, there's a lot that can be done with just friction, enthusiasm and the excitement of denial. But it really WASN'T what they wanted either. Not when this was likely to be the only time.

They let their head drop on Miles' shoulder.] GodDAMN it. I'm shooting whatever dropped us here. A lot.

[ Miles laughs rather bitterly at that. ]

And I would help you. Multiple times. It is just our luck ...

[ He leans his head against Bel's shoulder. ]

The first moment we get back to the Dendarii, we'll do this in my quarters. Properly.

[ Once, goes unspoken. ]

[It's weirdly, almost particularly Betan in the incredibly smooth, natural way Bel's hands go from amorous to merely taking comfort. They lace behind Miles back as they close their eyes, trying to settle everything this little taste had stirred.]

No. You're going to eat first. Give your orders, do your rounds, because I'm not letting you out for a whole cycle.

[ He's all right with that too. As much as he is still mentally cursing these suits. His mouth quirks upwards in a smile. ]

That's right. You're Betan. Should I expect great and potentially terrifying things?

Well, there has to be at least a couple of things you haven't tried yet.

[Some lack of knowledge, some lack of partner, some that Barrayaran reserve... Bel can guess a few fun things just from what they've observed of Miles.]

And I really do think you'd enjoy giving up power.. just for a little while.

[ A little shiver goes through him at that. At Bel's mercy in his chambers, eh ... It makes him really, really want to get off this planet. ]

How long have you been thinking about this?

Oh, I don't know. How long have we known each other, Miles dear?

[ Miles blinks at that, doing mental math. ]

Er ... Ten years? Longer? But surely not from our first encounter.

Don't you remember our first encounter? This brilliant, mad child storming in, with a small, dangerous army, taking over and making everything work like out of some holovid.

You turned the worst command I've ever been under around, stopped a war with barely a shot and then flitted off like you hadn't existed at all.

Tell me, Admiral, if that had been a woman doing it to you, wouldn't you?

[ When Bel puts it like that ... Miles feels as though he ought to protest for some reason. He was definitely desperate at the time, fresh off of some horrid failure. (The test where he'd shattered his legs, right? But why would he have been on Barrayar?) ]

... I admit I'd probably have been head over heels. Yes. Or determined to go and find them after.

But I was - I am quite deformed.

Edited 2016-10-30 18:31 (UTC)

[A rather airy response dies at that. They lean back, looking at Miles as if either just noticing or just now paying attention to those not-so-little twists. The steps where bones didn't form right, where even the plastic couldn't straighten because of long developed muscle patterns, even all of the Duronas couldn't give him normalacy as well as life. One miracle at a time.

Their finger traces down his now straightened spine.]

Limited isn't a word I would use with you.

Edited 2016-10-30 18:49 (UTC)

[ Another faint shiver goes through him at that touch and that reassurance. ]

I wasn't thinking of "limited." I've slept with a Betan before. She was ... overly fascinated.

Ah. [They consider... eyes widen and narrow. That little story amnesiac Miles told slots into place easily.

The answer wasn't one they needed to think about.]

It's not one of my kinks. [They shrug.] By now, you should have noticed I'm not repulsed, either.

[ Miles allows that response, then. No need to go into further details on his end. ]

No, you're not. I'd say that was a rare thing, but ... Not so rare as I had expected.

Not as rare or is it self-selected?

You gathered all of us, you know. All these wandering souls who've given their destiny the finger to see what else is out there.

Are you going to be surprised now?

[ Miles snorts faintly. ]

When you put it like that, it seems nearly natural.

Doesn't it? It took us forever to suss out that it wasn't a clue to your identity, just a bit of pathos.

[They lean back on Miles again, settling comfortably.]

Either way, I'm sure you're not going to have me hanged. Cashiered, is it?

Edited 2016-10-30 19:41 (UTC)

[ Ah, back to more serious topics. As lovely as this diversion had been. Miles leans back against them, looking out over the queen's carapace. ]

I don't have any choice, Bel. What you did was essentially treason. You can't continue like that.