maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

[ It suits them very much, for sure. Miles keeps running the fingers of one hand up and down Gregor's forearm. ]

Well ... the creatures we saw down there were very unusual. Centaur-like beasts with very little speech comprehension.

[ Gregor doesn't mind that at all. He does tug him lightly over to the couch to sit with him, which by this point has managed to fade, mostly, in its looming associations. Miles is sufficient distraction from them, at least.

He makes a low noise in his throat, soliciting further description. ] Little but not none?

[ Miles settles himself bodily into Gregor's lap, then. More like an exhausted dog than a romantic partner at the moment. ]

Not none, no. Rather more like some genetic experiment. I recall seeing holovids for some of the Kibou-daini ones while I was studying at Beta Colony. But here ... One wonders how they got here.

[ Oh. Well. He'd been envisioning them sitting rather properly side by side, but that's Gregor for you. He doesn't protest this at least, though he does have a little internal flutter of shy awkwardness imagining someone coming in and seeing them like this...

No, that's just learned habit. He doesn't really mind; Gregor is just fighting his ingrained belief that he has to hide anything important to him.

He slides an arm fully around Miles to support him. He's equally happy with exhausted pet as romantic partner. ] I'm familiar with the vids you're thinking of. You think it might be a side effect of continued exposure to the continuum? It's meant to resurrect us, isn't it?

[ That's what you get for expecting Miles to be remotely proper. He skips past all that to just settle in Gregor's arms instead. ]

Just so. And thus the distortion of wildlife seems apt, don't you think?

[ It's a completely unconscious assumption that you think he'd have broken from his time with Kitty, but not so. Years of upbringing take longer to dismantle than that. ]

It's certainly curious. I was wondering if we shouldn't set our hypothetically burgeoning R&D department on these nanomachines we have. I've been attempting not to think about them, but we can't exactly keep our heads stuck in the sand forever. It is how they kidnapped you.

Don't remind me. The thought terrifies me sometimes.

[ Rarely, nowadays, but in the time since they've gotten together Miles has definitely sat upright in bed a few times, certain he was back on that sub. ]

... It's a good idea. Now, before something else happens.

[ Gregor's woken up a couple times himself, thinking Miles was back there and he was being tortured... But it's not something he ever encourages talking about, if Miles is awake to notice it. ]

So I was thinking. [ But perhaps this isn't a good conversation for right now, when Miles is already tired from the day. Gregor smooths a hand down his crooked back. ] Do we have everything arranged for the meeting this weekend? It's looking like it'll be a full house.

[ Not quite awake enough so far. Perhaps one of these nights they'll both wake up at the same time and realize.

He relaxes against Gregor, allowing himself a small shiver at Gregor's long, comfortable fingers. Despite his best efforts, he still aches dully from his exertions today. ]

Everything's set. Cass didn't have any last-minute objections, so ... I can't believe we're up to ten now.

[ He doesn't know about Jim and Spock yet. ]

Twelve, [ he puts in helpfully. ] I think Spock and Kirk have come around.

[ Gregor can sense his aches, likes feeling that shiver, and thus encouraged he digs his fingertips carefully into the narrow, dense clusters of ropy muscle on either side of his spine. For now there's no friction, just pressure applied in points, his mental presence listening in with cocked ears. ]

[ Oh. There's a nice start. Despite Miles' casual air tonight, he's still pretty wound up from the events of the day. Even with the majority of his bone aches drawn away by Aral or Cordelia right now, there are certain sorts of pain that don't quite transfer properly. Eventually this will be a full-blown osteo inflammatory attack, but he's not there yet ... He sucks in a sharp little breath as Gregor's fingers find a good spot.

And of course he's pleased about their Starfleet officers too. ]

I wasn't expecting that. Glad to hear you convinced tem.

I'm sure you had at least as much to do with it.

[ Even before this telepathy, Gregor had had a suspicion, strong enough to basically serve as fact, that Miles hid most of his pain and discomfort on a daily basis. He didn't blame him for it; Gregor did much the same thing himself, just emotional instead of physical. It was a survival strategy, but it was also a way to demand respect. There was nothing more grating that someone else trying to kindly tell you to stop taking on so much, when what you were taking on was your duty, and you felt that if you didn't live up to it your whole existence was pointless.

Yes, in that respect, Gregor and Miles have always understood one another perfectly. Which is how Gregor knows not to ask, not to imply, just to go straight for trying to relieve some of those aches without acknowledging outright that they exist.

His fingers creep up higher, deftly feeling out where his vertebrae twist and paying more attention to the nearly-hardened-to-steel muscle tissue there rather than shying away. Gregor leans his head down to murmur in Miles's ear, ] If we move this upstairs, I can do this properly.

I'm not so sure about that. Attracted their attention, perhaps.

[ He begins to relax, slowly, under Gregor's ministrations. The nice thing about telepathy - among many other perks - is that Miles instinctively reacts to Gregor's positioning, effectively guiding him to the exact spots he needs soothed. A soft sigh escapes his lips. Accompanied too by a warm shiver as Gregor leans in close. ]

I suppose I could get up for that.

[ If anything's going to make Gregor motivated past his self-consciousness at practicing this on more than just his own leg, it would be Miles doubting his own role in recruitment.

Well, that and his abrupt realization that he can tell exactly how well he's doing through Miles's head. Instant feedback, as good as his own. What a delightful cheat. ]

You certainly attracted my attention, [ he says in the same murmur, gently prodding Miles to his feet so they can transition to privacy. Gregor has a low thrum of anticipation now that it's occurred to him. ] It's the only reason I'm in the business at all. [ Which isn't a lie; pretty much everything Gregor does for the Dendarii is in reality for Miles. He couldn't care less about the business as an institution. ]

[ Which Miles understands fully, but it doesn't stop a pleased little hum from echoing back. He takes the stairs slowly, then flops bodily into Gregor's bed. He's gotten to the point where he's started leaving his clothes in here so as not to have to return to his room to dress in the morning. There's another pleasant thought... As manic as Miles is, he finds his favorite parts of this relationship are all in the quiet, everyday moments. Like this. ]

The blame rests squarely at my feet, eh? I think I can handle that.

[ Gregor climbs on the bed after him and tugs teasingly at the hem of his shirt. ]

You're just going to have to sit up again to take this off for me, you realize.

[ Everything he's watched has presupposed he's working with direct skin, and Gregor has no idea how to add clothes in to navigate. He hadn't actually thought he'd get this far. ]

[ It's not as though Miles is about to argue here. He grins as he sits back up, pulling off the (always) slightly oversized t-shirt easily. One positive side effect of being just a hair too small for any truly fitting clothing. And then he sprawls back down again in some sarcastic parody of a pin-up pose. Amusement wound all throughout. ]

Well? Is that better?

[ Gregor outright laughs at him and pushes on his shoulder. ]

On your stomach, please. God. You're the one who asked me to learn how to give massage, months ago. [ Which, if Miles had forgotten about asking for something with his sigil on it, he's sure he's forgotten about that. Gregor, contrarily, doesn't forget anything. ]

[ This one does spark a memory in his mind, mostly because it was an embarrassing moment. Suggesting it, and then immediately realizing he'd stepped over a line. Had he been in love with Gregor that long ago? Eh ... perhaps not. But the roots are deep.

He turns onto his stomach then, shifting the ring on its chain out of the way so it's splayed out over the mattress instead. His back, then, is left for Gregor to see in all its Milesian ... complexity. The curved spine and neck, the faint lines of surgery scars at nearly every major bone and muscle group. It's a veritable map to his medical history. ]

I do recall that, vaguely. Didn't expect it to happen though.

[ It's not the first time Gregor's seeing it, of course, and it's not even the first time by far since they'd grown romantic together. But it's still new enough that as he leans forward to run his hands up the sides of his back to his shoulders, it's with the pure avarice of the long-denied, conforming his palms to the planes of his skin to follow every contour. Gregor makes no distinction between surgery scar or curvature or unmarked expanse. It's all Miles to him.

He does note, however, that his skin drags a bit without lotion. He's gotten ahead of himself. ]

I didn't expect it either, [ he confesses. ] But you made me... morbidly curious. Or perhaps I daydream too much. In any case, I don't have any practical experience behind me, just a lot of vids.

[ Miles takes this opportunity to relax more fully into the bed. If this is just the start, then he has a lovely evening a ahead of him. ]

You aren't doing bad so far. And you'll know if you've rubbed me the wrong way.

[ He snorts. ] Making jokes like that, you're lucky I love you, [ he says easily, conveying nothing of how deeply those feelings run.

Gregor stretches out toward the night stand and collects, well, a small tube of lubricant, since he hadn't exactly planned ahead and isn't the sort to keep lotion around normally. He steadfastly ignores the connotations of this-- lubricant is lubricant, right?-- squeezes some out onto his hands, replaces it back in the drawer, and turns back to Miles. The flutter of prudish embarrassment is probably distinct in his mindscape, but he pushes past it to place his now-slicked hands on Miles's back again.

Now he starts from the top, the instinctive amateur's urge to knead at the upper edge of the trapezius muscles. ]

Incredibly lucky. All of my good luck spent up in one go ...

[ Also said lightly, but with a deeper undercurrent to it. An utterly true sentiment on more levels than one ...

He's mostly curious in response to Gregor's preparation, occasionally craning his head back to see what he's up to. Only once Gregor makes contact with his shoulders again does he finally settle down enough to just close his eyes and relax. Mmm ... not bad at all. He could get used to it. ]

[ A soft ruffle of painfully appreciative humor. ] It does seem unreal at times, doesn't it?

[ Before when Gregor had been watching and trying to remember things about this, it'd been uncomfortable for him, unable to really imagine himself ever doing it. This had been helped eventually by dating Kitty; with her a lot of things Gregor had never envisioned himself doing had suddenly happened, become possible. He'd had a safe target for his imaginings that he knew wasn't crossing a boundary, that he knew would approve of it if she learned of it.

But this is something that he'd really always learned for Miles, and he'd known it. It's physical relief for his pain and bodily acceptance all in one, and recently Gregor's come to realize how much Miles values actions over words, which really he should've figured out sooner. It's something not easily refuted, the way Gregor's palms slowly knead at the ridge of tissue at his shoulders, then scoop up and back, digging the blade of one hand into the lower crook of his neck, where tension gathers.

He only has the right leverage to do this with one hand at once, he realizes, and furthermore it forces him up onto his knees, hovering over Miles. After a moment he swings his leg over him bodily, too, for better positioning, but keeps himself fully up and on his knees rather than settling his weight on Miles. He feels lingering shyness and uncertainty doing this, but he tries to focus on Miles's response rather than his own misgivings. ]

[ Other than a very faint sense of nervousness - he doesn't truly fear breaking something, not with Gregor's hands as skilled as they are, but if something were to crack he knows that would be the end of this - the beacon of pleasant thoughts is quite steady. He still isn't quite used to the thought of people touching him willingly, especially in something as deeply intimate as this. Hugs and small gestures are one thing; this is something else entirely. And every time he remembers that Gregor is doing this because Gregor loves him, physically and mentally ...

A small shiver goes through him. That curved spine presents a unique challenge, its odd shape contorting the muscles into more tension than they ought to have. His weakened sternum, too, complicates things slightly; Gregor can't press down too hard on certain parts of his upper back without making Miles wheeze uncomfortably. But when Gregor does find just the right spot, and Miles truly begins to relax, the contrast is all the more comfortable in comparison. It's a similar sensation to Gregor taking on Miles' aches for the very first time: Miles abruptly realizing what it feels like to not be terribly sore all the time. It's lovely. Heavenly, even ...

He lets out a soft groan as the tension passes out of his muscles. Heat seems to collect in the skin directly under Gregor's deft fingers. And when Gregor shifts to straddle him, the warmth gathers elsewhere, with a faint flicker of embarrassment from Miles to match. Well. It's just pleasant on multiple levels. Surely Gregor doesn't mind. He comforts himself with that thought as his eyelids droop slowly. ]

Entirely unreal. [ Murmured, blurred by the pillow he's buried his face in. Not much could move him now. His usual strident brilliance is more of a suffused glow, utterly content. A rare emotion from Miles. ] I keep waiting to wake up.