12 - Coming full circle

[lolitics_meme]

Dearest Anons,

In five days (on May 8, 2011) this meme will have existed for a whole year.

It is an extraordinary achievement, your extraordinary achievement, to have kept this going well and alive for so long. With thousands of fics and comments, this meme is one of (if not the) most amazing thing I've ever come across. Not only the amount of fic

Comments

Re: Mandelborne prompt: "embrace 1973", says Captcha. (minifill 3b/3)

[anonymous]

Nat was George's childhood friend. This piece of information was clearly a bit sour. Nonetheless, George did sit next to Peter during dinner and listened rather intently whenever he spoke with a rather more serious expression than the previous night. He was trying to make a decision.

It was only fair. "Come with me, George," Peter said at the end. "You are not my child."

George flinched.

It would only be the once. Once to see whether it was some fantasy concocted from nostalgia for his idealistic youth or something more twisted, damningly vampiric and preying... He had been fooled by himself before. Tony's promised friendship had turned out to be both true and chimeric...

They went to Peter's room. George's Tory lackey was occupied elsewhere. George himself stepped inside, the evening's summer sun through the window threw a rosy tinge on his face. Or, was he, in fact, blushing?

"It's not new to you," he commented unnecessarily, drawn in spite of himself, forwards. An adolescent excitement animated his face.

"It's like any other thing," Peter answered, "we lock the door if we don't want others to know."

George shut the door. He was in front of him, eyes almost black, his lips curved in a perfect impish grin. Peter touched his face, his neck, and loosened his polka-dot tie.

There were moments, the touch of that sweet mouth, that delightful skin, the fine strong bones of his face and hands and even wrist he recalled with a sort of aching pleasure even as he experienced it for the first time. The verismilitude was almost exact and better for all the surprises- the little sounds, the subtle cant of his hips were things Peter had forgotten, or suppressed.

It was obvious how very very new it all was to George Osborne. His soft mouth fell open. His thighs trembled and he gasped and moaned prayers, eyes fluttering closed as his back arched and his hands tried to tug Peter closer, closer...

"I wish you know how much I missed you, dear boy," Peter whispered afterwards. The sea glinted in the faint moonlight, a ray of it fell through. The skin was shadow and ivory. A shiver passed through Peter. He thought of damp and cold drafts seeping through stones. He pressed closer to the warm body and drew up the sheets.

George stirred then sat upright, breathing heavily. He looked at the man propped on the elbow on the bed beside him, apparently bewildered.

"Find me in London," Peter offered. He reached up ran his hand through the dark hair, the short curls soft against his fingers, and kissed George again.

George smiled blearily, face flushed, pink visible from cheek to sternum. "I will," he said. "What time is it?"

A while after he dressed and left, Peter did the same and went on deck. He nodded to the watch and sat on a chair as the the skies transmuted from twilight to dawn. George couldn't possibly know how Peter intended to return to London from Brussels. And yet, he did. Already, awareness of the repercussion and the reverberations were rippling across Peter's sated body.

He sighed. It would not only be the once, after all. And yet, surely it was a finer world where the past was not all in the dark. Perhaps, one day, he would write a book. A book, he mused, that would be written in code.

But that would have to wait. He needed to return to cabinet first.

-=-=