A nice big blob of words, part the second
I might as well start with posting, erm, all the fic I've written ever.
So this is for Swordspoint's fandom, and was posted over at _Riverside. Slightly smutty drabbles about Richard and Alec's first nights in their various abodes. Spoilers for Privilege of the Sword. I intend to write the one for Highcomb at some point.
RIVERSIDE HOUSE
They topple back onto the bed and immediately scramble together again, unaware of everything but the demanding lust. Richard should be struck by how peculiar this is; someone who is not a scholar, nor an aristocrat, nor a man nor a boy, in his bed, for reasons he doesn’t really know, but which were certainly convincing. He should be working out if he should be doing this, or even what it is he is doing. Instead he pulls Alec’s face to his and they kiss ferociously. Alec tears at Richard’s shirt, and as soon as it’s off he’s digging his fingers underneath the other man’s breeches. He tries to kick off his own breeches without moving his hands from their grip on Richard’s shoulders. Perhaps he knees Richard in the stomach in his struggle, but if he does, neither of them pays any attention.
Then they’re suddenly and completely naked, and pressing together burns and aches and feels spectacular. When Richard grabs blindly for the oil, Alec climbs over his lap. He’s drunk on desperation; before either of them is properly ready, he impales himself, and screams into Richard’s shoulder. Richard jerks up, irregular and uncontrollable, groaning, Alec’s hair in his mouth. The boy shudders as Richard grips his hips. He’s gasping into Richard’s ear, but neither of them can make out what he’s saying. It’s much too rough and quick for either of their tastes, but it is wonderful.
Richard passes out before he can wrap his thoughts around what’s happening.
.
He opens his eyes when Alec starts squirming. It’s an uncomfortable moment, when they both wake up properly and realise quite how entangled they are. Richard is holding Alec’s hipbone. Alec’s fingers are curled around Richard’s upper arm, and his silky tangled hair is draped over both their necks like a scarf. They pull apart silently, and Alec stretches. Richard watches him. Extended out, he reaches almost from the ornate head of the bed to the foot.
“Ow,” Alec mutters, and then moves his hips experimentally. “Ow,” he says in that gorgeous voice, wincing theatrically. Richard feels like he ought to say something. When he doesn’t, Alec announces, “I’m not in any condition to get out of bed.” He tucks his head under Richard’s chin, and is asleep (or faking very well) before Richard can wrestle the surprise off his face - but not before he finds himself sliding his arms around Alec again.
TREMONTAINE HOUSE
Alec fires off cynical remarks, but when it turns out the servants have already run a bath bigger than most beds Richard has been in, he immediately starts stripping, eyebrows raised wickedly. Richard follows him, and they sink in up to the neck and stretch out. The heat of their bodies, surrounded by the heat of the water, is impossibly luxurious.
The slim, pale body is distorted by reflections, but Richard maps it with his hands, stroking his back and his throat and his endless legs, and then reaches up to tease the fraying black ribbon down his tail, the ends of which are swirling about their shoulders, the colour of treacle. Alec melts into the crook of his neck, licking his collarbone and whispering, gasping. Richard cradles him, rolls him over and makes a noise lost between a groan and a sigh when Alec spreads his thighs without hesitation. Richard knows he can stop worrying.
They make love slowly, using nothing but the warm water. Alec wraps an arm around Richard’s neck and a leg around his waist, and rests his head against the rim of the tub. His lover holds his hips, his backside, his thighs, supporting him from under the surface of the water, angling him to precise perfection.
Afterwards, Alec says, “You know, it’s traditional actually to wash when in a bathtub.” He wriggles out of Richard’s arms and inspects the beautiful little bottles on a neatly-placed side-table, selects one, and promptly dumps half the contents on Richard’s head.
When they eventually leave the bath, Richard feels far too clean to put his old clothes on again. He sinks into the massive bed, naked and damp. He gathers Alec to him, presses his nose into wet hair that smells like fresh lemon, and falls asleep more quickly that he would have thought possible.
A knock at the door wakes Richard up. He’s not had quite enough sleep and he really doesn’t want to take his head out of Alec’s lap, but Alec says, “Come in,” in a strange voice. Richard had been expecting, “Go away, Marie,” so he pushes himself up, knocking out of the way the large book Alec had been about to rest open over his face to keep the page.
A valet enters the exquisite chamber and with him, last night’s news rushes back with a vengeance.
KYROS HOUSE
By the time they make port, Richard hasn’t eaten or slept for roughly four days. He staggers up from the tiny cabin, and watches vaguely as Alec negotiates something with the captain. Then he can’t really do anything except clutch Alec, who leads him off the ship and up a hill. He’s dizzily relieved that the ground doesn’t move.
Then there’s a bed and it’s all he needs.
He only wakes up because Alec is poking him determinedly. It feels like morning, but the air is hot and dry. It smells overwhelmingly of thyme and salt. Kyros, Richard thinks.
He stretches, and hasn’t even opened his eyes when Alec drawls, “Finally!” and kisses him hard. He pulls back for just enough time to say, “You slept for nineteen hours. I will never forgive you,” before shoving Richard down in the bed.
Alec might look predatory, but his mouth is luscious: warm, supple and generous. He drapes himself over Richard, who combs his fingers up into the long hair. Then he frowns, and turns his head to ask,
“Why am I awake?”
Alec, who’s simply moved his attention from his lover’s lips to his neck, glances up, horrified. “Don’t even think about sleeping again.” He makes his point with a bite over the collarbone. Richard tries not to lose focus. It’s a challenge. He sits up, forcing Alec to stop, at least for as long as it takes to find somewhere else to lie.
“When was the last time I ate?” Alec huffs.
“Yesterday evening. I’m not surprised you don’t remember; you barely woke up. I couldn’t believe you could eat, let alone have a wash. You did, though. That explains why you are, in fact, naked.” He slides a hand pointedly up Richard’s thigh.
Richard tries not to grin. “But what was there to eat? Are you haggling in Kyronic markets already?”
He can hear Alec scowl. His body is taut. “I bought some of the ship’s provisions, I suppose when you were either unconscious or vomiting. So at almost any time after we boarded.” And he pushes Richard back down and covers his mouth before he can say anything else.
Richard surrenders gladly and draws Alec back on top of him. He transforms, sighing into Richard’s mouth, shifting to caress the contours of muscle in his shoulders and chest. His fingertips brush over the bite mark, and his tongue follows them. Richard moans when Alec licks down to his nipples. He runs his hands down the backs of long thighs to find the edge of Alec’s nightshirt, and fingers it; Alec scrambles to pull it off. When he leans back down to Richard’s lips, the weight of his body is too warm for Richard to do anything but hold onto it.
It takes a long time for them to let go of each other enough to find the oil. Then Richard lounges back and guides Alec to lie in a way that makes his wishes quite clear. His lover touches his face and his hair while Richard stretches, writhing slowly. At some point Alec’s fine voice begins filling in the breaks between Richard’s quiet breaths. Both the voice and the breaths grow louder until they fall silent.
Richard sleeps for another ten hours and then wakes up in much the same way.