Just A Step Ahead - Chapter Ten - The smut you've been waiting for!
Title: Just a Step Ahead - Chapter Ten
Author: Streamedwords
Summary: Ambrose plots, Cain wants it n.o.w.
Rating: R or M, for mansex!
Warning: Cain/Glitch/Ambrose, or Cain/Ambrose-Glitch, as it stands.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I am merely a humble fangirl
Characters: From Ahamo to Zero!
Note: Next segment -- last segment! OMG!
Even before he had opened his eyes, Ambrose knew that time had flown past. He knew because of the quiet of the surroundings, the lack of any other presence. He knew because he was not on the floor of a throne room -- he was laying on the softness of a bed.
Blinking awake, he focused up to the canopy overhead, identifying that he was in his own bed. Back at the palace, back at Central City. He sat up slowly, pushing back the blankets, in order to look around him.
Had that entire fiasco been imagined?
Ambrose turned slowly, straightening the fit of his black pajamas. He slid his feet into his slippers and attempted to stand, just to see how difficult it would be. Everything seemed to be in working order. The notion of taking the time to get dressed entered his thoughts, toying with the idea, yet he soon dismissed it and grabbed for his robe from its place near the bed. He walked out of his room, moving down the corridor in silence, letting his mind get a feel for the atmosphere. It drank in details, and without that distracting presence within, was able to swiftly calculate the information.
The servants were moving around without alarm or concern. In fact, they did not even acknowledge his haste. It was a relaxed mood. That put him more at ease. No clues that there was any current threat. Perhaps he had been concerned for nothing.
There was one certain way to find out. Go directly to the source.
Pushing open the double doors of the throne room, Ambrose walked inside.
Lounging carelessly upon the Queen's throne, Prince Farthinberg turned to look at him, before smirking. "Advisor Ambrose. Glad to see that you've finally come 'round. It appears that I owe you a debt of gratitude.."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The royal family, minus DG, met for a somber dinner that evening. Ambrose found that there was nothing positive for him to say, so he let them keep their silence. That, and the presence of Prince Farthinberg's soldiers posted around the room made it very hard for them to talk as openly as they would have liked.
Ahamo had not touched much of the food on his plate, choosing instead to glare at the men which loomed around them like a silent threat. The Queen seemed to have as little appetite, as she sipped at her wine, solemn.
"Where is DG?" Ambrose asked softly, looking to the other three at the table.
"Confined to her rooms." Azkadellia said, eyes fixed on her plate, as incapable of enjoying the meal as her parents. "The servants have been tending to her needs there. We have not been allowed to see her since they brought you all back here."
Ambrose nodded. He had already gathered that after his collapse, the throne room had been raided. Without him to assist his friends, the soldiers of Bodwingale castle had captured them. It was only because of Prince Farthinberg's intervention that Ambrose was not in that same mysterious place as his missing friends. He assumed that the royal was under the impression that Ambrose had actually done as he'd promised, considering this result. "And Cain?"
"Imprisoned in the western wing of the prison." Ahamo murmured. "His trial will be in two days. Prince Farthinberg has promised that he will issue a swift, merciful execution."
Ambrose's fingers twitched where he had rested them on the table. "I see."
The Queen added, softly, "Since your friend Raw was not wanted for any crimes, he was released. As was ... Zero."
"So only Cain is currently imprisoned, and DG is grounded to her room?" He might have smiled, if it were just a bit more amusing. "Raw and Zero are around the City somewhere?"
"They are currently under house arrest." Azkadellia murmured, glancing quickly to the guards. "The prince has them stationed in opposite ends of the palace; Raw to the east, Zero to the south. I think they wish to keep everyone who was involved as separated as possible."
Ambrose shrugged lightly. "A wise decision, on the part of the prince." The gears of his head were turning, as he shifted topics mid-stride, turning to Ahamo. "I am curious, Sir, about the nature of your flying vehicle. Before all of this mess, I had been striving to create my own flying machine. Now that I will have some time, it may become my next project. Why don't we put off these negative topics for the time being, and discuss lighter subjects?"
Ahamo gave him an odd look, eyebrows drawing together. "What did you want to discuss?"
"Your flying vehicle -- it's here at the palace, isn't it?" Ambrose smiled blandly once Ahamo nodded. "Good, then I should be able to examine it at my leisure."
"Ambrose?" The queen asked, her and Ahamo looking at each other questioningly. Azkadellia was watching him carefully.
"I am rather curious, though. How many people can your flying vehicle carry at once, Sir?" Ambrose asked pleasantly, hands folding together in front of him on the table.
"Up to five. After that, the weight becomes too much to get enough lift."
"That is interesting." Ambrose murmured, a plot forming. "Very interesting."
~~~~~~~~~~
DG glared at the door when it opened, expecting to see one of Prince Farthinberg's men coming in for their routine check in. That anger shifted to confusion as she saw Ambrose stepping into the room, the man's face carefully blank. She smiled faintly, jumping off of her bed in order to hurry to him, wrapping that familiar figure up in an embrace. "Glitch, it's you! Thank God -- I've been so worried!"
Ambrose went stiff as she hugged him, feeling awkward. He settled for gingerly patting her on the back, murmuring quietly. "Princess DG. I hope that you are being treated well?"
Drawing back, DG stood at arm's length from him, frowning at his face. "..Glitch? Are you okay? You seem a bit... odd."
"It's complicated." He explained.
Studying his face closely, DG felt that she might have been facing a stranger. Those brown eyes were darker than usual, with no trace of that humored twinkle that normally warmed them. His face was like a mask, set perfectly in that blank expression. "Ambrose. What's going on?"
"I need to ask you a favor, princess." He said quietly, voice maintaining that professional tone. "It will require you to put your trust in me."
"Of course I trust you." The princess said, that frown still in place. "What did you need me to do?"
"I need you to lend me the emerald." Ambrose whispered, holding out his palm towards her.
DG studied him thoughtfully. "What do you need the emerald for?"
Ambrose's smile was faint. "A chance at redemption."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't know what you be wanting with this scum, Sir." The guard muttered as he shuffled into sight, one of the first voices that he'd heard since they'd put him in the cell. Cain's head lifted, thumb pushing up the brim of his hat as he gave a cool glance towards the bars. "I hear that he's some kinda traitor."
"I'm sure a man of your obviously exceptional vocabulary skills would divine a most accurate judge of another's character."
Cain perked up at that voice, pushing up to his feet. He watched as Ambrose stepped into view, the man's brown eyes regarding him briefly, before the advisor gestured to the bars. "I'll need to interrogate the prisoner. Leave us for now. I will call you when I am finished getting the information that I seek."
"Yes, Sir." Bowing, the guard gave a signal to the other man at post. The bars of the cell squeaked as they opened, Ambrose ducking his head as he stepped inside. He searched around the confinement, nose wrinkling with distaste, hands folding close to his chest to avoid touching anything. The bars lowered back down behind him, shutting him in with Cain, as the guards walked away to leave the advisor to his work.
Waiting until they had gone, Cain finally whispered. "You're okay?"
"It seems so. For now. It's been problematic, but I think I have everything under control."
"Good." Cain reached up, his hand resting itself against the pale cheek of the other man.
Ambrose closed his eyes when that contact came near, half-afraid that he would flinch with it, as he did with others. He felt relieved when it felt completely natural to him, sighing faintly as he lingered in the moment, enjoying it. "I came to inform you that I have developed a plan. Unfortunately, I must ask that you try to stand this confinement a little longer, since I'm unable to free you at this time."
The tin man dropped his hand away, fixing him with the same look that DG had earlier. "Glitch?"
"I'm afraid not, Mister Cain." He answered, eyes opening to look up at the other man. "We decided that it was neccessary for me to take over for a little while, in order to succeed with our goal of saving you and the kingdom."
"'We?'" Cain echoed.
Ambrose was nodding, his thin smile lacking humor. "Glitch and myself."
"So I'm talking to Ambrose now?"
"Indeed. I would have thought the formality of my nature would have provided sufficient indication on that matter."
"Ambrose.." Cain's face clouded over, eyeing the advisor, not sure that he liked this detached version of his friend. It was Glitch's face, but lifeless. "Then.. who was it that I was talking to back in the throne room?"
"Both of us." Ambrose murmured, berating himself internally as he felt his face filling with heat. He dropped his eyes from that intent blue stare. It was hard to keep his composure with Cain looking at him like that.
The tin man shifted his stance, reaching past Ambrose to fit a palm against the wall next to the advisor's head. He watched the smaller man fidget with discomfort. "Somehow, you don't strike me as a person who would be that impassioned."
Ambrose frowned at the insinuation. He found Cain's shoes to be quite fascinating. They were much easier to look at than the tin man's face. "I.. I don't confess to having much experience when it comes to matters of the heart and body, Mister Cain." He stammered out, certain now that the blush must have spread to the tips of his ears. "It has been incredibly difficult for me, being put back into a body struggling with these feelings in regards to you."
"Struggling?" Cain quirked an eyebrow. "So you're trying to say that you don't have those feelings at all? That it's completely Glitch running that aspect of things, while you feel nothing?"
"I didn't say that." The advisor breathed out, exasperated. Cain was starting to see that formal facade fragmenting, offering a glimpse to someone who acted more like a human than a machine. "It's.. You're a very vexxing man, Mister Cain. I find it impossible to keep my composure around you for very long."
"So I get you all hot and bothered, and you don't have any idea what to do about it?" Cain asked at a drawl, that cold pit in his stomach filling with amusement as he watched the other man squirm. He placed his hand against the wall on the opposite side of Ambrose now, boxing the smaller man in. It was apparently time for him to square things away with the brain in the jar.
"That's a rather bold way of putting it, don't you think?" Ambrose whispered, finding himself slipping back against the wall, apparently having forgotten that he'd not wanted to touch it before. His eyes flickered back and forth towards Cain's arms, becoming aware of the fact that he was being caged in.
Cain leaned in, murmuring. "I get the feeling that it's true, and I'm an honest sort of guy." The tin man's head angled to the side, face lowering out of range of Ambrose's sight. He felt the brim of the hat brush against his hair, freezing him in place. Then the feeling of lips brushing against his neck over the top of his stiff collar made him gasp out.
"Mister Cain.."
The tin man's smile went unseen. He tasted that patch of skin with his tongue, wondering why it had driven him so crazy. Ambrose's stiffness had already given way to shaking, though he still had not yielded, too proud or too unsure of himself to take any risks. Cain wondered if he could find the key to unlocking the advisor; if he could find some way to unite brain and heart into equally formidable strengths. He decided that he wanted to try, right now, before the world spiralled any further on its crazy course.
"Cain, the guards..."
"Won't be back until you call for them." He pointed out, voice husky against the advisor's throat. Taking his right hand off the wall, Cain removed his hat, tossing it towards the cot across the room without even bothering to watch where it landed. His other hand was drifting up, fingers working at the latch of that collar, mouth nuzzling just below a few curling locks. "It drove me crazy, not knowing if you were okay or not."
"I only woke up yesterday." Ambrose answered shakily, prying his hands from the wall behind him in order to clutch hold of Cain's arms. He was starting to feel terribly dizzy, so the man was going to provide him an anchor to steady himself with, considering that his spinning head was entirely Cain's fault. "I wanted to come sooner, but I have to be careful, or else they'll imprison me, too."
He fell silent then, because his grasp on words was becoming sketchy, and Ambrose was afraid that he'd end up babbling. That and, oh Gods, Cain's mouth was doing something ingenius there against his throat, the law man's fingers warm to the touch where they slid into his opened collar to caress that skin. Ambrose shut his eyes tightly. In fact, the only word that he was able to manage with utmost confidence was the man's name. "Cain.."
Cain felt him on the verge of breaking, while he himself was on the precipice of falling into passion, setting be damned! All of his anger, his worry and his concern was channeling now into something just as fierce, but far more pleasurable. He was hungry now to take it out on Ambrose in the best ways possible. His unoccupied hand fit against the small of the advisor's back, drawing him in by the waist while Cain himself pushed closer, and when Ambrose moaned at the feeling of their bodies colliding, Cain eagerly ate it up in his mouth to muffle the sound.
It was getting to the point where the law man was having trouble keeping his knees steady, since he'd invested all of his focus now into devouring Ambrose's mouth. He settled for leaning his weight forward, trying not to squish the smaller man with his bigger bulk, despite the fact that it was getting difficult for him to care. Cain felt a thrill of victory as he felt that slim body melting, the last edge of Ambrose's iron composure crumbling away, and Cain found his head being clung to with eager passion, the tips of the advisor's fingers pressing into his short blond hairs.
His name was a mantra, panting out of Ambrose over and over, nearly making Cain wonder if he had sent that brilliant mind into glitching. He knew that they had little time for tenderness, considering their current situation. Cain tore his mouth back, voice hoarse with lust as he hissed against the advisor's mouth, already working at his belt with a hand. "We'll do this properly the next time: right now, I have to feel you."
Ambrose feared that he might pass out right then. He did not fight Cain as he worked, eyes coming open at half-mast as he watched the other man work at their clothes. Cain's hands weren't steady, so it was clumsy and took too long for both their liking, yet it gave the advisor time to let his mind roll over what was happening.
Did he want to do this? Undoubtedly! And why had it made him so afraid to begin with? He knew the answer to that: control. It had been his fear that giving into the carnality of his body would make his brain, his most treasured part, become weak and out of his control. Yet he was discovering that it had quite the opposite effect; his brain was working overtime, every synapse firing with startling clarity, the circuitry of his mind having swelled up to its fullest capacity. It was a heady feeling.
With a groan, his head fell back against the wall. Cain's fingers were slightly harsh in their quickness, but he didn't mind. He couldn't even rouse enough concern about the state of his appearance, which had been perfected with such care that it had taken him over an hour to dress. That stiff jacket was in disarray now, most certainly, and Ambrose knew that his hair would not look much better. Ambrose certainly didn't care that he was getting sweaty, or that the wall was filthy behind him, or that Cain smelled like someone who had not showered in days. That scent was powerful; steel and leather, sweat and desire. Cain pulled off dirty better than anyone he knew.
Part of his rational mind understood precisely what Cain was doing. The law man was deliberately making him a visual mess of unsettled clothes and careless hair. On some level, Ambrose knew that Cain was trying to draw that other self from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere separate from the brain. Cain was reaching for that little secret place, that little treasure which a brainless Glitch had helped to preserve for fifteen annuals, that place where rhythm came from where even Ambrose had no domain. The tin man was invading it, coaxing it out, and Ambrose was letting him.
Cain's hand moved between them, making Ambrose silently thank whatever deity had blessed the man with such a wonderful skill. All that he could think, in those blurry moments, was that Cain was thick and hot and soft and Ambrose's senses tingled with the knowledge that he could feel their heartbeats racing in time together, perfectly attuned. Cain was leading him, he followed along, and all too soon did his mind stop thinking at all. His brain must have exploded in his head. Or he had just suffered a stroke. He clawed at Cain's shoulders to keep some grip on something real.
Then Cain was groaning against his neck, which made Ambrose give up on trying to remain afloat.
~~~~~~~
Afterward, Ambrose kept his head rested against Cain's shoulder, feeling his body coming down from that rush. Cain was cleaning them both off with the blanket from his cot, helping to get Ambrose's clothes sorted back out since the advisor seemed incapable of managing it himself. They broke apart reluctantly, the chill of the cell which blew between them with the loss of contact making that loss of warmth all the more sharper. Once they had gotten themselves back under control, Cain stepped over to retrieve his hat from where it had landed on the floor.
His blue eyes were bright in the dim, looking back to Ambrose as he placed his hat back in its usual station atop his head. "You okay?"
"Better than okay." Ambrose whispered, surprised at how genuine that sounded. He forced himself to move away from the wall, fingers combing through his hair, trying to put it back into a semblance of order.
Cain's eyes drifted to the top of the advisor's head, and he smirked. His fingers combed through Ambrose's hair, fixing the mess that the brown-haired man kept creating through his efforts. "It looks fine. Now, are you going to tell me about this plan of yours, or do you intend to leave me wondering?"
"I would have told you already, if not for the... distraction." Looking back towards the bars, Ambrose frowned. "But I think that little activity has stolen away the majority of my time to explain it all. You'll just have to wait now."
"Be careful." Cain said softly, Ambrose catching a glimpse of fear in those eyes which the tin man could not quite hide.
Nodding solemnly, the advisor took a step closer, arms awkward when they embraced the tin man. Ambrose's lips looked lush from their kissing, swollen and red. Cain was unable to help stealing another kiss. This time it was languid and slow, as tender as they make it, expressing what they still could not bring themselves to say.
Ambrose broke away, eyes dropping to the floor as he curled a set of fingers around the bars. Cain watched him undergo a subtle transformation, as that warmth trickled away from the man's face, leaving it carefully composed. His voice was perfectly steady as he called out, "Guard! I am finished interrogating the prisoner. Please come and let me out, before this boorish clout gets any ideas to rebel."
Feet marched over, the guard from earlier looking in at them. He sneered as he looked Cain over, murmuring. "He doesn't look too beat up." The bars of the cell swung open as the guard worked the device locking them, Ambrose stepping out quickly, as if the very thought of spending another moment in there made him disgusted. "Mind if I ask what you did to get him to talk, Sir?" The guard leered.
"Let's just say that I am very good at hitting where no one will see the bruises." Ambrose stated flatly, fixing the man with a stare that made the guard uncomfortable, wondering if that was a threat. Those dark eyes spared the guard further discomfort as they shifted back to Cain, the advisor adding smoothly, "If you get any wild ideas, then I intend to come and do it again, Mister Cain."
"I'll keep that in mind, Advisor." Cain nodded stiffly. The guard was moving off to escort Ambrose back out of the prison level. Ambrose took that moment, letting his eyes linger on Cain's, before he left Cain's line of sight, the tin man stepping up to the bars to watch that figure go.
Author: Streamedwords
Summary: Ambrose plots, Cain wants it n.o.w.
Rating: R or M, for mansex!
Warning: Cain/Glitch/Ambrose, or Cain/Ambrose-Glitch, as it stands.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I am merely a humble fangirl
Characters: From Ahamo to Zero!
Note: Next segment -- last segment! OMG!
Even before he had opened his eyes, Ambrose knew that time had flown past. He knew because of the quiet of the surroundings, the lack of any other presence. He knew because he was not on the floor of a throne room -- he was laying on the softness of a bed.
Blinking awake, he focused up to the canopy overhead, identifying that he was in his own bed. Back at the palace, back at Central City. He sat up slowly, pushing back the blankets, in order to look around him.
Had that entire fiasco been imagined?
Ambrose turned slowly, straightening the fit of his black pajamas. He slid his feet into his slippers and attempted to stand, just to see how difficult it would be. Everything seemed to be in working order. The notion of taking the time to get dressed entered his thoughts, toying with the idea, yet he soon dismissed it and grabbed for his robe from its place near the bed. He walked out of his room, moving down the corridor in silence, letting his mind get a feel for the atmosphere. It drank in details, and without that distracting presence within, was able to swiftly calculate the information.
The servants were moving around without alarm or concern. In fact, they did not even acknowledge his haste. It was a relaxed mood. That put him more at ease. No clues that there was any current threat. Perhaps he had been concerned for nothing.
There was one certain way to find out. Go directly to the source.
Pushing open the double doors of the throne room, Ambrose walked inside.
Lounging carelessly upon the Queen's throne, Prince Farthinberg turned to look at him, before smirking. "Advisor Ambrose. Glad to see that you've finally come 'round. It appears that I owe you a debt of gratitude.."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The royal family, minus DG, met for a somber dinner that evening. Ambrose found that there was nothing positive for him to say, so he let them keep their silence. That, and the presence of Prince Farthinberg's soldiers posted around the room made it very hard for them to talk as openly as they would have liked.
Ahamo had not touched much of the food on his plate, choosing instead to glare at the men which loomed around them like a silent threat. The Queen seemed to have as little appetite, as she sipped at her wine, solemn.
"Where is DG?" Ambrose asked softly, looking to the other three at the table.
"Confined to her rooms." Azkadellia said, eyes fixed on her plate, as incapable of enjoying the meal as her parents. "The servants have been tending to her needs there. We have not been allowed to see her since they brought you all back here."
Ambrose nodded. He had already gathered that after his collapse, the throne room had been raided. Without him to assist his friends, the soldiers of Bodwingale castle had captured them. It was only because of Prince Farthinberg's intervention that Ambrose was not in that same mysterious place as his missing friends. He assumed that the royal was under the impression that Ambrose had actually done as he'd promised, considering this result. "And Cain?"
"Imprisoned in the western wing of the prison." Ahamo murmured. "His trial will be in two days. Prince Farthinberg has promised that he will issue a swift, merciful execution."
Ambrose's fingers twitched where he had rested them on the table. "I see."
The Queen added, softly, "Since your friend Raw was not wanted for any crimes, he was released. As was ... Zero."
"So only Cain is currently imprisoned, and DG is grounded to her room?" He might have smiled, if it were just a bit more amusing. "Raw and Zero are around the City somewhere?"
"They are currently under house arrest." Azkadellia murmured, glancing quickly to the guards. "The prince has them stationed in opposite ends of the palace; Raw to the east, Zero to the south. I think they wish to keep everyone who was involved as separated as possible."
Ambrose shrugged lightly. "A wise decision, on the part of the prince." The gears of his head were turning, as he shifted topics mid-stride, turning to Ahamo. "I am curious, Sir, about the nature of your flying vehicle. Before all of this mess, I had been striving to create my own flying machine. Now that I will have some time, it may become my next project. Why don't we put off these negative topics for the time being, and discuss lighter subjects?"
Ahamo gave him an odd look, eyebrows drawing together. "What did you want to discuss?"
"Your flying vehicle -- it's here at the palace, isn't it?" Ambrose smiled blandly once Ahamo nodded. "Good, then I should be able to examine it at my leisure."
"Ambrose?" The queen asked, her and Ahamo looking at each other questioningly. Azkadellia was watching him carefully.
"I am rather curious, though. How many people can your flying vehicle carry at once, Sir?" Ambrose asked pleasantly, hands folding together in front of him on the table.
"Up to five. After that, the weight becomes too much to get enough lift."
"That is interesting." Ambrose murmured, a plot forming. "Very interesting."
~~~~~~~~~~
DG glared at the door when it opened, expecting to see one of Prince Farthinberg's men coming in for their routine check in. That anger shifted to confusion as she saw Ambrose stepping into the room, the man's face carefully blank. She smiled faintly, jumping off of her bed in order to hurry to him, wrapping that familiar figure up in an embrace. "Glitch, it's you! Thank God -- I've been so worried!"
Ambrose went stiff as she hugged him, feeling awkward. He settled for gingerly patting her on the back, murmuring quietly. "Princess DG. I hope that you are being treated well?"
Drawing back, DG stood at arm's length from him, frowning at his face. "..Glitch? Are you okay? You seem a bit... odd."
"It's complicated." He explained.
Studying his face closely, DG felt that she might have been facing a stranger. Those brown eyes were darker than usual, with no trace of that humored twinkle that normally warmed them. His face was like a mask, set perfectly in that blank expression. "Ambrose. What's going on?"
"I need to ask you a favor, princess." He said quietly, voice maintaining that professional tone. "It will require you to put your trust in me."
"Of course I trust you." The princess said, that frown still in place. "What did you need me to do?"
"I need you to lend me the emerald." Ambrose whispered, holding out his palm towards her.
DG studied him thoughtfully. "What do you need the emerald for?"
Ambrose's smile was faint. "A chance at redemption."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't know what you be wanting with this scum, Sir." The guard muttered as he shuffled into sight, one of the first voices that he'd heard since they'd put him in the cell. Cain's head lifted, thumb pushing up the brim of his hat as he gave a cool glance towards the bars. "I hear that he's some kinda traitor."
"I'm sure a man of your obviously exceptional vocabulary skills would divine a most accurate judge of another's character."
Cain perked up at that voice, pushing up to his feet. He watched as Ambrose stepped into view, the man's brown eyes regarding him briefly, before the advisor gestured to the bars. "I'll need to interrogate the prisoner. Leave us for now. I will call you when I am finished getting the information that I seek."
"Yes, Sir." Bowing, the guard gave a signal to the other man at post. The bars of the cell squeaked as they opened, Ambrose ducking his head as he stepped inside. He searched around the confinement, nose wrinkling with distaste, hands folding close to his chest to avoid touching anything. The bars lowered back down behind him, shutting him in with Cain, as the guards walked away to leave the advisor to his work.
Waiting until they had gone, Cain finally whispered. "You're okay?"
"It seems so. For now. It's been problematic, but I think I have everything under control."
"Good." Cain reached up, his hand resting itself against the pale cheek of the other man.
Ambrose closed his eyes when that contact came near, half-afraid that he would flinch with it, as he did with others. He felt relieved when it felt completely natural to him, sighing faintly as he lingered in the moment, enjoying it. "I came to inform you that I have developed a plan. Unfortunately, I must ask that you try to stand this confinement a little longer, since I'm unable to free you at this time."
The tin man dropped his hand away, fixing him with the same look that DG had earlier. "Glitch?"
"I'm afraid not, Mister Cain." He answered, eyes opening to look up at the other man. "We decided that it was neccessary for me to take over for a little while, in order to succeed with our goal of saving you and the kingdom."
"'We?'" Cain echoed.
Ambrose was nodding, his thin smile lacking humor. "Glitch and myself."
"So I'm talking to Ambrose now?"
"Indeed. I would have thought the formality of my nature would have provided sufficient indication on that matter."
"Ambrose.." Cain's face clouded over, eyeing the advisor, not sure that he liked this detached version of his friend. It was Glitch's face, but lifeless. "Then.. who was it that I was talking to back in the throne room?"
"Both of us." Ambrose murmured, berating himself internally as he felt his face filling with heat. He dropped his eyes from that intent blue stare. It was hard to keep his composure with Cain looking at him like that.
The tin man shifted his stance, reaching past Ambrose to fit a palm against the wall next to the advisor's head. He watched the smaller man fidget with discomfort. "Somehow, you don't strike me as a person who would be that impassioned."
Ambrose frowned at the insinuation. He found Cain's shoes to be quite fascinating. They were much easier to look at than the tin man's face. "I.. I don't confess to having much experience when it comes to matters of the heart and body, Mister Cain." He stammered out, certain now that the blush must have spread to the tips of his ears. "It has been incredibly difficult for me, being put back into a body struggling with these feelings in regards to you."
"Struggling?" Cain quirked an eyebrow. "So you're trying to say that you don't have those feelings at all? That it's completely Glitch running that aspect of things, while you feel nothing?"
"I didn't say that." The advisor breathed out, exasperated. Cain was starting to see that formal facade fragmenting, offering a glimpse to someone who acted more like a human than a machine. "It's.. You're a very vexxing man, Mister Cain. I find it impossible to keep my composure around you for very long."
"So I get you all hot and bothered, and you don't have any idea what to do about it?" Cain asked at a drawl, that cold pit in his stomach filling with amusement as he watched the other man squirm. He placed his hand against the wall on the opposite side of Ambrose now, boxing the smaller man in. It was apparently time for him to square things away with the brain in the jar.
"That's a rather bold way of putting it, don't you think?" Ambrose whispered, finding himself slipping back against the wall, apparently having forgotten that he'd not wanted to touch it before. His eyes flickered back and forth towards Cain's arms, becoming aware of the fact that he was being caged in.
Cain leaned in, murmuring. "I get the feeling that it's true, and I'm an honest sort of guy." The tin man's head angled to the side, face lowering out of range of Ambrose's sight. He felt the brim of the hat brush against his hair, freezing him in place. Then the feeling of lips brushing against his neck over the top of his stiff collar made him gasp out.
"Mister Cain.."
The tin man's smile went unseen. He tasted that patch of skin with his tongue, wondering why it had driven him so crazy. Ambrose's stiffness had already given way to shaking, though he still had not yielded, too proud or too unsure of himself to take any risks. Cain wondered if he could find the key to unlocking the advisor; if he could find some way to unite brain and heart into equally formidable strengths. He decided that he wanted to try, right now, before the world spiralled any further on its crazy course.
"Cain, the guards..."
"Won't be back until you call for them." He pointed out, voice husky against the advisor's throat. Taking his right hand off the wall, Cain removed his hat, tossing it towards the cot across the room without even bothering to watch where it landed. His other hand was drifting up, fingers working at the latch of that collar, mouth nuzzling just below a few curling locks. "It drove me crazy, not knowing if you were okay or not."
"I only woke up yesterday." Ambrose answered shakily, prying his hands from the wall behind him in order to clutch hold of Cain's arms. He was starting to feel terribly dizzy, so the man was going to provide him an anchor to steady himself with, considering that his spinning head was entirely Cain's fault. "I wanted to come sooner, but I have to be careful, or else they'll imprison me, too."
He fell silent then, because his grasp on words was becoming sketchy, and Ambrose was afraid that he'd end up babbling. That and, oh Gods, Cain's mouth was doing something ingenius there against his throat, the law man's fingers warm to the touch where they slid into his opened collar to caress that skin. Ambrose shut his eyes tightly. In fact, the only word that he was able to manage with utmost confidence was the man's name. "Cain.."
Cain felt him on the verge of breaking, while he himself was on the precipice of falling into passion, setting be damned! All of his anger, his worry and his concern was channeling now into something just as fierce, but far more pleasurable. He was hungry now to take it out on Ambrose in the best ways possible. His unoccupied hand fit against the small of the advisor's back, drawing him in by the waist while Cain himself pushed closer, and when Ambrose moaned at the feeling of their bodies colliding, Cain eagerly ate it up in his mouth to muffle the sound.
It was getting to the point where the law man was having trouble keeping his knees steady, since he'd invested all of his focus now into devouring Ambrose's mouth. He settled for leaning his weight forward, trying not to squish the smaller man with his bigger bulk, despite the fact that it was getting difficult for him to care. Cain felt a thrill of victory as he felt that slim body melting, the last edge of Ambrose's iron composure crumbling away, and Cain found his head being clung to with eager passion, the tips of the advisor's fingers pressing into his short blond hairs.
His name was a mantra, panting out of Ambrose over and over, nearly making Cain wonder if he had sent that brilliant mind into glitching. He knew that they had little time for tenderness, considering their current situation. Cain tore his mouth back, voice hoarse with lust as he hissed against the advisor's mouth, already working at his belt with a hand. "We'll do this properly the next time: right now, I have to feel you."
Ambrose feared that he might pass out right then. He did not fight Cain as he worked, eyes coming open at half-mast as he watched the other man work at their clothes. Cain's hands weren't steady, so it was clumsy and took too long for both their liking, yet it gave the advisor time to let his mind roll over what was happening.
Did he want to do this? Undoubtedly! And why had it made him so afraid to begin with? He knew the answer to that: control. It had been his fear that giving into the carnality of his body would make his brain, his most treasured part, become weak and out of his control. Yet he was discovering that it had quite the opposite effect; his brain was working overtime, every synapse firing with startling clarity, the circuitry of his mind having swelled up to its fullest capacity. It was a heady feeling.
With a groan, his head fell back against the wall. Cain's fingers were slightly harsh in their quickness, but he didn't mind. He couldn't even rouse enough concern about the state of his appearance, which had been perfected with such care that it had taken him over an hour to dress. That stiff jacket was in disarray now, most certainly, and Ambrose knew that his hair would not look much better. Ambrose certainly didn't care that he was getting sweaty, or that the wall was filthy behind him, or that Cain smelled like someone who had not showered in days. That scent was powerful; steel and leather, sweat and desire. Cain pulled off dirty better than anyone he knew.
Part of his rational mind understood precisely what Cain was doing. The law man was deliberately making him a visual mess of unsettled clothes and careless hair. On some level, Ambrose knew that Cain was trying to draw that other self from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere separate from the brain. Cain was reaching for that little secret place, that little treasure which a brainless Glitch had helped to preserve for fifteen annuals, that place where rhythm came from where even Ambrose had no domain. The tin man was invading it, coaxing it out, and Ambrose was letting him.
Cain's hand moved between them, making Ambrose silently thank whatever deity had blessed the man with such a wonderful skill. All that he could think, in those blurry moments, was that Cain was thick and hot and soft and Ambrose's senses tingled with the knowledge that he could feel their heartbeats racing in time together, perfectly attuned. Cain was leading him, he followed along, and all too soon did his mind stop thinking at all. His brain must have exploded in his head. Or he had just suffered a stroke. He clawed at Cain's shoulders to keep some grip on something real.
Then Cain was groaning against his neck, which made Ambrose give up on trying to remain afloat.
~~~~~~~
Afterward, Ambrose kept his head rested against Cain's shoulder, feeling his body coming down from that rush. Cain was cleaning them both off with the blanket from his cot, helping to get Ambrose's clothes sorted back out since the advisor seemed incapable of managing it himself. They broke apart reluctantly, the chill of the cell which blew between them with the loss of contact making that loss of warmth all the more sharper. Once they had gotten themselves back under control, Cain stepped over to retrieve his hat from where it had landed on the floor.
His blue eyes were bright in the dim, looking back to Ambrose as he placed his hat back in its usual station atop his head. "You okay?"
"Better than okay." Ambrose whispered, surprised at how genuine that sounded. He forced himself to move away from the wall, fingers combing through his hair, trying to put it back into a semblance of order.
Cain's eyes drifted to the top of the advisor's head, and he smirked. His fingers combed through Ambrose's hair, fixing the mess that the brown-haired man kept creating through his efforts. "It looks fine. Now, are you going to tell me about this plan of yours, or do you intend to leave me wondering?"
"I would have told you already, if not for the... distraction." Looking back towards the bars, Ambrose frowned. "But I think that little activity has stolen away the majority of my time to explain it all. You'll just have to wait now."
"Be careful." Cain said softly, Ambrose catching a glimpse of fear in those eyes which the tin man could not quite hide.
Nodding solemnly, the advisor took a step closer, arms awkward when they embraced the tin man. Ambrose's lips looked lush from their kissing, swollen and red. Cain was unable to help stealing another kiss. This time it was languid and slow, as tender as they make it, expressing what they still could not bring themselves to say.
Ambrose broke away, eyes dropping to the floor as he curled a set of fingers around the bars. Cain watched him undergo a subtle transformation, as that warmth trickled away from the man's face, leaving it carefully composed. His voice was perfectly steady as he called out, "Guard! I am finished interrogating the prisoner. Please come and let me out, before this boorish clout gets any ideas to rebel."
Feet marched over, the guard from earlier looking in at them. He sneered as he looked Cain over, murmuring. "He doesn't look too beat up." The bars of the cell swung open as the guard worked the device locking them, Ambrose stepping out quickly, as if the very thought of spending another moment in there made him disgusted. "Mind if I ask what you did to get him to talk, Sir?" The guard leered.
"Let's just say that I am very good at hitting where no one will see the bruises." Ambrose stated flatly, fixing the man with a stare that made the guard uncomfortable, wondering if that was a threat. Those dark eyes spared the guard further discomfort as they shifted back to Cain, the advisor adding smoothly, "If you get any wild ideas, then I intend to come and do it again, Mister Cain."
"I'll keep that in mind, Advisor." Cain nodded stiffly. The guard was moving off to escort Ambrose back out of the prison level. Ambrose took that moment, letting his eyes linger on Cain's, before he left Cain's line of sight, the tin man stepping up to the bars to watch that figure go.