shipmaster | (no subject)

[They take a deep breath and seem to hold it.]

Sir.

[ This is the all important detail. He suspects he knows the answer - could he even have asked the question already? - even post-cascade, his mind is full of holes - but in any case, he must ask. ]

When did you realize you were dealing with Mark?

Almost immediately. [And at that, Bel's gaze finally drops. Something in them softens a little bit.]

He said 'clone,' and not brother. I tested, to be sure a few times but...

It was obvious.

[Another breath, another exhale, as they simply and knowingly seal their own coffin.] I wanted what he wanted to do. I don't regret it.

But I knew he wouldn't take help. Not from me, especially not from you. He had to 'trick' me into it.

[ From the beginning, then, Dammit. There's no way he can grant mercy in a situation like that, can he? It would undermine the entire outfit ... Not to mention his own feelings. The rise up like a storm surge now, having been let loose by his cascading memories. ]

You could have delayed him. A day would have been enough. We could have done this together.

[ His voice cracks at that. Hurt and betrayal shining through. ]

[Now he looks up, fixing Miles with an assessing gaze. Whatever they find there, they don't vocalize.]

I know.

I though I could bring it off, though.

You were close. [ Miles has to admit that much, however reluctantly. ] If not for that sniper, I'd have seen out the end of it too.

Yeah. [Their voice is small, uncharacteristically. It lowers further, almost a whisper.] That is what I'm sorry about. I never..

You never meant to get me killed? God, I hope not. I'd hate to add you to the list of potential assassins.

[ His tone is bone dry. He appreciates the sentiment, really, but - who wants to get their men killed in the first place? ]

[No one who has lasted in the Dendarii command for this long. As an Admiral, Naismith never brooked cruelty.

Still, the assurance brings back a ghost of a smile and that ugly humor.]

Well. Gently wringing your neck is completely separate and an upper staff prerequisite.

[ Good. Miles is - well, he has a lot of complicated feelings on this subject, but dragging them both into a bog of anger and guilt isn't productive for either one of them. Forward momentum. ]

Naturally. I wouldn't deny it to any of you. It's the only way to know I'm still on the right track.

God. You couldn't even die in an uncomplicated way. [NOW they start laughing, the standing water, long denied finally starts flowing down their cheeks.] You had to wander off and lead us on a chase.

You say that as if that was my fault. I have no idea what possessed the doctor to send me off to the Duronas.

[ He gives Bel a lopsided grin of his own. ]

Well, whatever inspiration they had, it worked. [They scrub at their face with the back of their hand.]

Yes. After leading you halfway across the Nexus, anyway.

[ Miles hesitates. Then carefully reaches a hand up for Bel's shoulder. ]

[There's no pull back, they lean into it, letting the hand settle on the herm's shoulder.]

Just once.. [They murmur, no apology in it, no pleading. Not after all of that teasing Miles did, unwittingly. Bel just leans down and sinks into a kiss.]

[ 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.