maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

[ 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.

[ Miles is so terribly fragile and so loathes being treated like it, it's a careful act to balance, but one Gregor has practice at, if not so rigorously applied as here. With one mental ear cocked to pick up on signs of discomfort, this becomes a trivial matter, and he's never before appreciated the cheating they can do with the link to quite so fine a point. He can dig into the best places without needing sensitive palpation skills or having to check in and ask for direction constantly. He just... knows, where to apply pressure and where to back off.

He ends up discovering that if he applies force in a shearing motion rather than straight down, it doesn't upset Miles's delicate sternum, and he can still get enough leverage to get at the copious knots in the fine muscle fibers around his contorted spine. Gregor is so focused and intent on doing a good job, listening carefully, that it takes him a bit to recognize the second kind of warmth collecting here.

He flushes faintly himself, but after a while sends back his own faint seed of it, more as a sign of welcome receptiveness than with any intent to follow up on it. Right now... he just wants to bask in enjoying Miles under his hands, and feeling him melt slowly in his mind. ]

Implying you could fall asleep like this? [ he murmurs, shifting the conversation from barbed appreciation for their good fortune and to... something more suited to the moment. ] You could. I've no intention of stopping. I love getting to feel you like this.

[ Said plainly, without artifice. Gregor learning how to be comfortable with someone is a story of him learning to open up with his feelings. He slides a flat palm down the planes of his back in emphasis of his appreciation. ]

[ That's more or less exactly what Miles wants right now anyway: receptiveness without needing to go any further at the moment. The feeling of Gregor's slim, strong fingers working out all the stiffness in his back is more than enough ... god. He really could just drift into sleep right now. The best damn sleep of his life, no doubt, but then he'd miss all of this. With a soft sigh, he tries to shake himself awake mentally. ]

Sleep through this? That would be terrible. I want to be awake for the whole thing, thank you. [ His tone is light and teasing, and utterly content. Another soft shiver goes through him as Gregor slides one hand down Miles' back. That's the other half of this: the mental appreciation tied up with the physical. He's well past the point of expecting Gregor to recoil from Miles' twisted frame, but it doesn't make this any less awe-inspiring. He may never fully get used to it. ] I already knew I loved you, Gregor, but now I think I'm in love with your hands too.

Mm, then you are catching up with me. I've been in love with your hands for ages.

[ Gregor does have a thing about hands-- a mental image drifts up of Miles's hands, in fact, shockingly accurate, small and almost stubby and crooked in a few places where they've been broken, laced with scarring. Gregor's image of them is chased with heat and tenderness, and he darts a glance up to where they are now as if to refresh his memory.

He leans down and places a kiss on the part of him he can reach, the slope of his back. His hands sweep down and settle just above the pant line at his hips, then knead there over the arches of his hip bones, a place too often ignored that bears so much weight. ]

[ That is honestly a surprise. Miles flushes deeply all along his neck and ears, a fact that's very apparent given Gregor's current angle over him. While he doesn't especially dislike the look of his hands, the sometimes crooked little twists in his joints are anything but appealing. To everyone except Gregor, it seems. He's dizzy with that realization for a moment, over and above the tender ministrations of Gregor's hands. (Especially on his hips, dear god. There's a spot that just never seems to stop hurting, even with the link taking on the vast majority of it.)

It takes him a moment to find the words he wants to say. ]

Are you sure? [ That's what comes out instead of the romantic, grateful swell of feeling that's actually swirling through his mind. ] They're not - I'm not conventionally attractive at all.

[ He ends up gently digging his thumbs into the hollows of his low back, on either side of the vertebra, almost absently as he considers his response. He hadn't spent much time learning specifically about hips (that had seemed too salacious) but now he thinks he's going to have to amend that.

In a low murmur, ] Absolutely sure. [ Gregor considers pointing out that he's not someone who cares about physical attractiveness much to start with, that it doesn't matter to him, but instead goes right for it, says: ] That poem I wrote you, that wasn't just pretty words. [ Kiss every luminescent knuckle...] And this isn't just for your benefit, believe me.

[ He has to pause in his work to give into the urge to lean up and kiss the back of his reddened neck, scrapes his teeth along his nape, just once, in a claiming sort of motion, before Gregor reluctantly drags himself back to what he was doing. ]

[ His hips and that awkward curve just under his neck are easily the worst spots, for him. And thus, conversely, the areas that provide the most satisfying relief once Gregor works out all the kinks. Another soft shiver goes through Miles as Gregor's teeth scrape lightly along the back of his neck. He's already quite warmed up and sensitive already ... perhaps next time they can manage something more hybridized.

For now, he's overwhelmed enough. Mentally playing back the words to himself, a private joy sparkling up as they slide across his consciousness. ]

I don't mean to imply ... [ That this is all about him? Best not make it as such then. ] I am very glad, Gregor. And deeply humbled.

[ Gregor's thoughts are drifting toward something more hybridized himself, but for now, yes, this is more than enough. He doesn't want to be distracted, actually, with anything too sexual, which so easily overtakes his conscious brain and ruins his ability to savor what he's doing. This, he wants to embed in his memory banks as firmly as possible.

But maybe without such an undertone of dire appreciation, their joy sharp-edged with old deprivation. He needs to make this lighter, so they don't get totally sucked into that. Despite that, honeyed love slips over, coaxed out inexorably by the mood and intimacy, Gregor not quite conscious of its presence. ]

You should be, [ he says lightly. ] Not everyone gets the Emperor as their personal masseur, you know.

[ It's hard to just relax and be a normal couple, extraordinary people as the two of them are. He relaxes incrementally at that steady flow of love across the link. The closest Miles is going to get to not thinking about all the undercurrents between them. Just Gregor and his pleasant hands... ]

I've never had a personal masseur. So you're the best so far, Emperor or not. I don't think I'll experiment with anyone else on this one.

[ There's a short rush of pleased greediness at that, a mark of his possessiveness, before it's followed by embarrassment at how revealing it is.

His hands are starting to ache a bit, but it's nothing dire; he has to shift position again to get the angle he wants at the crest of his hipbone. ]

... Good, [ he finally says, because it's Miles, he's been nothing but encouraging with Gregor about his less savory impulses toward him. He even seems to enjoy them, which Gregor is awed by and not altogether sure of yet, first uncertain steps out onto an iced lake. Half-convinced he'll fall through at any moment. With according slowness, ] I know it's not fair of me-- that it's not even-- but I want you to myself.

[ Miles, in return, can't mask the little spike of glee in return. Someone being possessive of him implies he's worth wanting. Gregor being possessive of him is the same, just infinitely larger in magnitude. He definitely enjoys those little flares from Gregor, oh yes. Every time he catches a glimpse of them, he's delighted.

He stretches out rather languidly as Gregor works out a particularly stubborn kink along his lower back. Boy he sure could get used to this too ... ]

Why isn't it even? Are you seeing someone other than Kitty I should know about?

[ Teasing, but making what he hopes is a salient point. ]

[ Gregor is slowly yet surely being coaxed out into being more honest with them, rather than reflexively hiding or forcefully extinguishing them every time they arise, as he's so practiced in doing. It's a little painful for him to take the chance, when he's up front with it; he has a lot of old shame and fear tied around his more domineering desires. But he's discovered already that once he does it, once it's out and Miles has seen it and reacted with nothing more than satisfaction and even delight, the sting fades away, the potency of it defanged.

With Miles, and possibly only Miles, he's not doing anything wrong. His feelings aren't wrong.

He hadn't been kidding that this massage wasn't just for Miles's benefit. With thoughts like that to warm him, Gregor feels compelled to express his appreciation, his gratitude and plain covetousness, and getting to run his hands over him and caress, possibly relieve some pain for him, expunges another shamed, hidden desire.

As far as the actual conversation, he's still struggling with how to manage their set up, despite the fact that by now they've settled more comfortably with Kitty and had their bought of role playing with her. When they're all three together, Gregor sets himself firmly in the role of uncomplicated support, the pivot for the balancing act. Alone, more honestly... He's not altogether sure how this works. ]

God, no, definitely not. Do you... think things are even, then? You and her have something independently of me?

[ If Gregor weren't currently massaging Miles into a puddle, Miles might have been a bit hesitant to answer just now. He's still quiet as he thinks, turning the answer over in his head, but it all takes on a languid, pleasant sort of speed. He feels like he's pleasantly indulging in the thought rather than scrambling to try and figure out the answer. ]

I think ... balance is more important. And we have that. Uneven, but ...

[ He can't quite put it into words, this sense of the two relationships being different - and uneven - and yet working out anyway. A pair of dessert forks balanced via a coin on the edge of a cup. He finds himself to be relieved by that unevenness rather than worried. A truly even state of affairs would have him anxious about his place in it.

He tries to broadcast all of that to Gregor in broad strokes. ]

[ Maybe he should always ask Miles the hard, important questions like this, he wonders for a moment, half-serious in that if it's always going to go this smoothly. He doesn't want Miles to fret, and he absolutely doesn't want him to cater his answers to him. Honesty and forthrightness are things Gregor values immensely, given how often others are duplicitous or attempting to use him for ulterior motives. However much Miles would be doing it out of consideration for him, possibly even in deference to his own feelings or his own confusion, it still leaves a bad taste for him. Gregor would always rather deal with the truth, plainly said, than any couched terms. He needs some area of his life that is straight forward, or he wouldn't be able to let down his walls.

This answer, too, makes a strange sort of immediate sense to him. If he thinks on it too hard it falls apart, but when he doesn't examine it, just lets it rest in his peripheral vision, it seems natural. Not one of Gregor's strong points, that; Miles is much better at that sort of thing. He wordlessly sends that feeling back, of understanding what he means, coincident with his bafflement at how to clinically understand it. ]

Uneven but fair? [ he tries to summarize. ] Fairness not being all things equal to all people. This isn't something I, well, intentionally set out to do, [ he says with a rueful note, deciding to experiment as his brain is distracted with the conversation. He digs a knuckle into the divot of layered muscle just below the iliac crest, then leans his weight there and rests. ] It's important to me that it's not just something you tolerate for my sake.

[ Might as well take advantage of the mood to press this topic, since it does weigh on Gregor sometimes. ]

[ A soft, pleased groan at that last bit of pressure. Miles, at least, is guaranteed to be honest in most things. Telling the entirety of the truth, now ... That's often a different matter. But if he does have an answer, you can be damn certain he's giving you his actual opinion.

Such as now. He snorts at the implication that Gregor is making now. Reassurance follows it quickly, as Miles figures the question is born of real anxiety. He's much the same, after all. ]

I get to have sex with two amazing people who are taller than me and you're worried about me just tolerating this? Please.

[ It's no coincidence that Gregor's two lovers are both scrupulously, obstinately opinionated. It's one of his favorite qualities. Getting the whole truth out of Miles is something he ordinarily doesn't need to do, as he knows him well enough to infer most of it, but in certain cases like these Gregor feels the need for things to be utterly explicit.

He's refuting this remark immediately, drolly: ] Please, you're not Ivan. However promiscuous you were before we got together, I know that wasn't out of libido. [ Miles was looking for something, Gregor is certain of that. He shies away from calling attention to this, not wanting to make it seem like he needs reassurance that he's found it. (Though that is always nice.) ] I can't say I ever pictured commitment with a third person in it, and I know you're not that different. Look at the way you reacted to your parents.

[ He'll put it out there first if he has to, without fanfare, hoping the matter-of-factness of his delivery carries them through the sensitive nature of this topic. ]

Edited 2016-05-19 02:23 (UTC)

[ He colors a bit at that both mentally and physically. Very nearly ashamed at himself, made not so only by the small splash humor between the two of them on this topic. Otherwise it might have been too hot to bear. He had been searching beyond the physical. Had crashed himself disastrously looking for it ...

In comparison, his parents are the easier topic.]

I also reacted to Da being bisexual, if you recall.

[ Dryly, ] Seeing reflections of yourself, perhaps?

[ Gently ribbing him, wanting to move Miles past his self-consciousness. There's no call for it, truly. Gregor has at least evaded that brand of Barrayaran nonsense, praise be to Cordelia. Wishing for Miles to slow down or fling himself less wholeheartedly into his search for validation and companionship would be wishing for Miles to be someone else. If he had expressed that physically, sexually, well. That was how it was. Even if it had been damn inconvenient or mortifying or just downright wrenching at times, to hold himself back and watch him go. That's not something that deserves shame. ]