Gray Morning Fanfiction -- Forgiveness: Chapter 12
It's really fun retconing this fanfic to fit both old and new canon. Of course, I think I'm only a chapter or two away from the end, now. Also, I have a very Ravi-centric thing that I need to post here, too. I'll probably post that tomorrow. :) Until then, a warning for a tiny bit of (mostly glossed over) m/m sexiness. Enjoy!
Previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
“Good morning, Savin,” Mitchel murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead after he speaks. “I suppose I should wake you up -- we have a Council meeting in about an hour you need to look presentable for.”
I snort to myself, cracking one eye open as Mitchel steps away from the bed. “Don’t wanna,” I grumble, rolling onto my stomach and resting my head on my arms. “Wake me up in ten?”
“Savin, you know as well as I do all you will do is lie there and not go back to sleep,” Mitchel says and I can feel the bed shift under his weight as he leans over the bed. His lips brush against my ear. “Or would you rather I wake you up a little differently...?” he continues, his breath warm against my skin. His teeth graze my ear, nipping at it before he goes to kiss my neck.
I try not to let the whine building at the back of my throat escape as I squirm away from him. “Damnit, Mitchel,” I groan, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck. “We don’t have time --”
“You just asked me to wake you up in ten minutes, Emperor,” he breathes against me. I can feel him lean against me, now, one of his hands sliding down the length of my back and resting on my ass. “I think we have enough time for -- other events, if that is how you choose to be, this morning.”
I turn to look at him, noticing that insufferable smirk on his face. He knows he has me, but I’m not about to let him know he’s already gotten a “rise” out of me. Instead, I give him a smirk of my own and settle my head back on top of my arms. “I’d like to see you try to have an actual quickie.”
“Is that a challenge, Bates?”
“You take like ten minutes just to make out with me, let alone get all of our clothes of-- Christ!” I yelp, pushing myself up with my arms as Mitchel’s lips are suddenly much lower than I remember them. His breath is hot against my lower back, and I can feel it move even further down, his lips and tongue leaving an equally hot trail along with it.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re already nude, then,” he whispers against me as he nudges my legs a little wider. I can feel his weight settle between them before his tongue starts moving along the crack of my ass, causing me to squirm and whimper against the bed. Fucking bastard knows just what I like, and it’s hard not giving in.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re both panting, gasping each other’s names into the other’s shoulder. I’m on top for once, despite Mitchel’s attempts to the contrary, and seeing his eyes roll back and feeling him tighten around me as he gets close has got to be one of the best ways to wake up, in the morning. I press my lips against his, teeth clashing as we move in unison. He comes a moment later, and I follow him shortly afterward.
“Told you it would take longer than ten minutes,” I pant into his shoulder, giving him a knowing smirk of my own. “Now you have to take a shower with me.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, chuckling quietly as I pull myself out of him and settle beside him on the bed. He props himself up on his elbows for a moment, his graying hair sticking up every which way. If he could see it right now, he’d cringe. “I already had a shower. There’s no need for me to take a second one.”
“I just came in you -- you’re not going to be able to go the whole Council meeting without wanting a shower,” I tell him. Mitchel just raises an eyebrow at me and doesn’t say anything in response. “You hate not taking a shower after sex,” I continue, slipping my glasses over my eyes as I roll off the bed.
“I am perfectly capable of going without a shower after sex, Bates,” Mitchel calls after me. He sounds annoyed and when I turn to look at him, he has a slight frown on his face.
“Really?” I ask, walking back over to the bed. I lean over him, our noses almost touching, I’m so close. “Then I dare you to go the whole day without one -- even if I want to have sex again, later.”
“You’re such a child,” Mitchel pouts, looking away from me. “Why would you, a grown man, dare me to do something like that? It’s childish.”
“Because I know how much you can’t stand going without a shower in general,” I tell him, smirking at him. “Now just think of how sweaty we both are, how my come’ll --”
“That’s quite enough, Savin,” he says, putting up his hand to stop me from speaking. His normally perfectly composed features are twisted in utter disgust.
“So is the dare on, then?” I ask, unable to contain my grin as I head towards the bathroom. “I mean, it’s just a single day. Twenty-four hours. I’ve gone several times that without a shower.”
“Which is absolutely horrifying, considering your previous profession,” Mitchel says, and I can’t stop myself from laughing at the disgust and indignation in his tone. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the past few months since the lockdown, it’s that we both still enjoy playing with one another.
It’s especially fun now since Mitchel’s far less guarded with me. I can actually tell when I’ve gone too far and hurt his feelings. I haven’t really pissed him off yet since we started unofficially dating, but he hasn’t really pissed me off, either. So I guess it’s only fair.
Our routine in the morning doesn’t deviate from usual, except it’s a little rushed thanks to our earlier activities. Mitchel helps me get dressed, as usual, his hands touching just about everywhere they can even without any intent to solicit a physical response from me. I never took him for a very tactile person, but I guess that’s because the man’s usually so damn reserved.
When he goes to fix my tie, he guides my hands through the motions, as if determined to somehow teach them the art of tying one correctly. To be honest, Jazz never had the patience with me to do something like that. But Mitchel’s fingers are on top of my own just about every day, guiding them through the knotwork.
“I didn’t need to guide you as much this time,” he murmurs as his hands slide down my chest. They settle on my hips, and a slight smile forms on his lips as his eyes meet mine. “I’m starting to believe you know how to do it yourself, now, you just want me to keep helping you in the morning.”
I shrug my shoulder, a partial smile of my own forming on my lips as I lean in to kiss him. “Maybe I just like seeing your hands do all the work,” I tell him as I pull away. I grab my notes for today’s meeting as I head towards the door.
Mitchel smirks at me, walking with me side by side as we make our way to the Council room. He doesn’t say anything smart about my fixation with his hands -- bastard doesn’t need to, and I think he knows it. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets, and we walk down the hallways of the Palace in silence.
So much shit has changed these last few months. My stomach doesn’t turn the way it used to whenever I’d walk down these halls without Jazz. I still miss him, and my heart still aches and there have been nights where Mitchel’s had to hold me as I sob into his shoulder, but... Mitchel has made it easier. He understands.
At the same time, there’s nothing more I want in the world than to kill him in those moments, too. It’s his fault Jazz isn’t here anymore, his fault that I even fucking feel anything for him other than utter contempt, and --
It’s really fucking complicated.
It was even more complicated when Mitchel realized I had developed lupus, same as my mother. Today’s a good pain day, though. The pain’s been less and less over the last few months, actually, since I started treatment.
Jazz is probably rolling in his grave, shouting, “I told you you’d feel better!”
The thought causes me to snort back a bit of laughter, which just makes Mitchel glance over at me, his eyebrow raised. “Quite alright over there, Bates?” he asks, his hand reaching towards me. It stops just short of my arm, though, and falls to his side just as quickly as it had reached for me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, blinking away tears stinging at my eyes. “Just -- thought about him, again.”
“If you’re not feeling up to a Council Meeting today, Bates --”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, this time clearing my throat and hoping my voice sounds a little stronger than before. “I’d be better off going to the Council Meeting, anyway, than staying home all day, trust me. I’d just end up in the OR, otherwise.”
Mitchel turns to me, then, pausing in the middle of the somewhat crowded hallway. He moves in close to me, taking both of my hands in his, despite everyone walking around us. “Savin,” he begins, looking me directly in the eye. I turn away from him, and he grabs my chin and guides my eyes back to his. “I am aware of what today is. I can run this meeting myself, if you feel that you need me to. Your Council trusts me now, remember?”
“You’re not allowed to be in the Council Meetings by yourself,” I murmur, moving away from him.
“I have already cleared it with Amelia,” he says, lifting his chin and squaring his jaw. “I have spent absolutely no time with any of your Council alone, and you know I have officially cut my Resistance ties and declared my loyalty to you -- to your Empire. One meeting alone with them will not change that -- it doesn’t give me anymore power over them than I already have, which is as an equal; perhaps even as less than an equal. I can report the Council’s feedback directly to you, and --”
“Mitchel,” I butt in, frowning slightly to myself. “It’s not Amelia you have to clear that with, it’s the Council themselves. You know I trust you -- and, yeah, the Council’s warmed up to you, but -- I still have to be present at the meeting.” I turn on my heel and begin walking again. I can tell Mitchel’s not too far behind me, his footsteps unusually heavy against the floor.
“If you truly trusted me, you wouldn’t have your Guards watch my every move whenever we’re apart,” Mitchel says, grabbing my arm and causing me to look at him. His eyes flash with something I haven’t seen in a long time -- hurt? anger? -- something I can’t quite place. He frowns, pursing his lips together as I stop in the middle of the hallway. “You would let me take care of you -- and not just in the bedroom, either. Please, Savin -- let me prove myself to you.”
I narrow my eyes at him and wrench my arm out from under his grip. “What’re you up to?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low as people continue to walk past us. I can feel their eyes on us, and I can feel the tension building in my shoulders as they look between me and Mitchel and back again. “Last time you did something like this, Resistance assassins were in the Council Room --”
“Savin,” Mitchel snaps. He runs his fingers through his hair -- something I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do unless he was hurt. “That was months ago, and I protected you. I warned you about the Resistance.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, and he moves closer to me. Instinctively, I take a step back. The way his shoulders slump and his eyes grow wide when I do, I feel my stomach sink to the floor. Mitchel then sighs and shakes his head, turning sharply on his heel. “We’re going to be late,” he murmurs, his fingers reaching for the knot of his tie as he moves forward. “We can discuss this at a later time.”
“Mitchel --”
“The matter’s already been decided, Bates,” he says, his voice holding a sharp edge to it. “Despite your words to the contrary, it’s obvious that you still don’t trust me.”
“I -- of course I trust you, it’s just -- last time --”
“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different,” Mitchel says, completely ignoring what I’m trying to say. We’re at the council room doors, now, when he finally turns to glare at me over his shoulder. “I killed your husband, and today is your wedding anniversary with him. I almost lead you into a trap months ago -- a trap which I foiled, in order to protect you. I understand that you don’t trust me, and I even understand how you might even believe that you do, but your reaction just now -- it proves otherwise.”
He places his hand on the door, twisting the handle. “Mitchel, wait,” I murmur, placing my hand on top of his. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, leaning in to brush my lips against his. “I do trust you, it’s just -- old habits die hard, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t attend the meeting today, after all. I’m clearly not in the right headspace to make any important decisions, right now.”
Mitchel’s hand falls away from the handle, and he nods his head. “Alright. Does that mean I can no longer attend the meeting?”
I hand him the folder I’m carrying, offering him a small smile. “I trust you to do what you think is best -- just fill me in on everything when you come home.”
Mitchel’s deft fingers pluck the folder from my own, and he smirks at me. “Will do, Emperor,” he murmurs. He then pulls me close, kissing me deeply, for a moment. “Get some rest. Jasper would want you to.”
I nod, turn on my heel, and walk away from the council room doors. While my heart still feels heavy, at least I know I can have a couple of hours to think.
Maybe I should go visit Jazz’s grave.
Previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
“Good morning, Savin,” Mitchel murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead after he speaks. “I suppose I should wake you up -- we have a Council meeting in about an hour you need to look presentable for.”
I snort to myself, cracking one eye open as Mitchel steps away from the bed. “Don’t wanna,” I grumble, rolling onto my stomach and resting my head on my arms. “Wake me up in ten?”
“Savin, you know as well as I do all you will do is lie there and not go back to sleep,” Mitchel says and I can feel the bed shift under his weight as he leans over the bed. His lips brush against my ear. “Or would you rather I wake you up a little differently...?” he continues, his breath warm against my skin. His teeth graze my ear, nipping at it before he goes to kiss my neck.
I try not to let the whine building at the back of my throat escape as I squirm away from him. “Damnit, Mitchel,” I groan, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck. “We don’t have time --”
“You just asked me to wake you up in ten minutes, Emperor,” he breathes against me. I can feel him lean against me, now, one of his hands sliding down the length of my back and resting on my ass. “I think we have enough time for -- other events, if that is how you choose to be, this morning.”
I turn to look at him, noticing that insufferable smirk on his face. He knows he has me, but I’m not about to let him know he’s already gotten a “rise” out of me. Instead, I give him a smirk of my own and settle my head back on top of my arms. “I’d like to see you try to have an actual quickie.”
“Is that a challenge, Bates?”
“You take like ten minutes just to make out with me, let alone get all of our clothes of-- Christ!” I yelp, pushing myself up with my arms as Mitchel’s lips are suddenly much lower than I remember them. His breath is hot against my lower back, and I can feel it move even further down, his lips and tongue leaving an equally hot trail along with it.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re already nude, then,” he whispers against me as he nudges my legs a little wider. I can feel his weight settle between them before his tongue starts moving along the crack of my ass, causing me to squirm and whimper against the bed. Fucking bastard knows just what I like, and it’s hard not giving in.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re both panting, gasping each other’s names into the other’s shoulder. I’m on top for once, despite Mitchel’s attempts to the contrary, and seeing his eyes roll back and feeling him tighten around me as he gets close has got to be one of the best ways to wake up, in the morning. I press my lips against his, teeth clashing as we move in unison. He comes a moment later, and I follow him shortly afterward.
“Told you it would take longer than ten minutes,” I pant into his shoulder, giving him a knowing smirk of my own. “Now you have to take a shower with me.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, chuckling quietly as I pull myself out of him and settle beside him on the bed. He props himself up on his elbows for a moment, his graying hair sticking up every which way. If he could see it right now, he’d cringe. “I already had a shower. There’s no need for me to take a second one.”
“I just came in you -- you’re not going to be able to go the whole Council meeting without wanting a shower,” I tell him. Mitchel just raises an eyebrow at me and doesn’t say anything in response. “You hate not taking a shower after sex,” I continue, slipping my glasses over my eyes as I roll off the bed.
“I am perfectly capable of going without a shower after sex, Bates,” Mitchel calls after me. He sounds annoyed and when I turn to look at him, he has a slight frown on his face.
“Really?” I ask, walking back over to the bed. I lean over him, our noses almost touching, I’m so close. “Then I dare you to go the whole day without one -- even if I want to have sex again, later.”
“You’re such a child,” Mitchel pouts, looking away from me. “Why would you, a grown man, dare me to do something like that? It’s childish.”
“Because I know how much you can’t stand going without a shower in general,” I tell him, smirking at him. “Now just think of how sweaty we both are, how my come’ll --”
“That’s quite enough, Savin,” he says, putting up his hand to stop me from speaking. His normally perfectly composed features are twisted in utter disgust.
“So is the dare on, then?” I ask, unable to contain my grin as I head towards the bathroom. “I mean, it’s just a single day. Twenty-four hours. I’ve gone several times that without a shower.”
“Which is absolutely horrifying, considering your previous profession,” Mitchel says, and I can’t stop myself from laughing at the disgust and indignation in his tone. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the past few months since the lockdown, it’s that we both still enjoy playing with one another.
It’s especially fun now since Mitchel’s far less guarded with me. I can actually tell when I’ve gone too far and hurt his feelings. I haven’t really pissed him off yet since we started unofficially dating, but he hasn’t really pissed me off, either. So I guess it’s only fair.
Our routine in the morning doesn’t deviate from usual, except it’s a little rushed thanks to our earlier activities. Mitchel helps me get dressed, as usual, his hands touching just about everywhere they can even without any intent to solicit a physical response from me. I never took him for a very tactile person, but I guess that’s because the man’s usually so damn reserved.
When he goes to fix my tie, he guides my hands through the motions, as if determined to somehow teach them the art of tying one correctly. To be honest, Jazz never had the patience with me to do something like that. But Mitchel’s fingers are on top of my own just about every day, guiding them through the knotwork.
“I didn’t need to guide you as much this time,” he murmurs as his hands slide down my chest. They settle on my hips, and a slight smile forms on his lips as his eyes meet mine. “I’m starting to believe you know how to do it yourself, now, you just want me to keep helping you in the morning.”
I shrug my shoulder, a partial smile of my own forming on my lips as I lean in to kiss him. “Maybe I just like seeing your hands do all the work,” I tell him as I pull away. I grab my notes for today’s meeting as I head towards the door.
Mitchel smirks at me, walking with me side by side as we make our way to the Council room. He doesn’t say anything smart about my fixation with his hands -- bastard doesn’t need to, and I think he knows it. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets, and we walk down the hallways of the Palace in silence.
So much shit has changed these last few months. My stomach doesn’t turn the way it used to whenever I’d walk down these halls without Jazz. I still miss him, and my heart still aches and there have been nights where Mitchel’s had to hold me as I sob into his shoulder, but... Mitchel has made it easier. He understands.
At the same time, there’s nothing more I want in the world than to kill him in those moments, too. It’s his fault Jazz isn’t here anymore, his fault that I even fucking feel anything for him other than utter contempt, and --
It’s really fucking complicated.
It was even more complicated when Mitchel realized I had developed lupus, same as my mother. Today’s a good pain day, though. The pain’s been less and less over the last few months, actually, since I started treatment.
Jazz is probably rolling in his grave, shouting, “I told you you’d feel better!”
The thought causes me to snort back a bit of laughter, which just makes Mitchel glance over at me, his eyebrow raised. “Quite alright over there, Bates?” he asks, his hand reaching towards me. It stops just short of my arm, though, and falls to his side just as quickly as it had reached for me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, blinking away tears stinging at my eyes. “Just -- thought about him, again.”
“If you’re not feeling up to a Council Meeting today, Bates --”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, this time clearing my throat and hoping my voice sounds a little stronger than before. “I’d be better off going to the Council Meeting, anyway, than staying home all day, trust me. I’d just end up in the OR, otherwise.”
Mitchel turns to me, then, pausing in the middle of the somewhat crowded hallway. He moves in close to me, taking both of my hands in his, despite everyone walking around us. “Savin,” he begins, looking me directly in the eye. I turn away from him, and he grabs my chin and guides my eyes back to his. “I am aware of what today is. I can run this meeting myself, if you feel that you need me to. Your Council trusts me now, remember?”
“You’re not allowed to be in the Council Meetings by yourself,” I murmur, moving away from him.
“I have already cleared it with Amelia,” he says, lifting his chin and squaring his jaw. “I have spent absolutely no time with any of your Council alone, and you know I have officially cut my Resistance ties and declared my loyalty to you -- to your Empire. One meeting alone with them will not change that -- it doesn’t give me anymore power over them than I already have, which is as an equal; perhaps even as less than an equal. I can report the Council’s feedback directly to you, and --”
“Mitchel,” I butt in, frowning slightly to myself. “It’s not Amelia you have to clear that with, it’s the Council themselves. You know I trust you -- and, yeah, the Council’s warmed up to you, but -- I still have to be present at the meeting.” I turn on my heel and begin walking again. I can tell Mitchel’s not too far behind me, his footsteps unusually heavy against the floor.
“If you truly trusted me, you wouldn’t have your Guards watch my every move whenever we’re apart,” Mitchel says, grabbing my arm and causing me to look at him. His eyes flash with something I haven’t seen in a long time -- hurt? anger? -- something I can’t quite place. He frowns, pursing his lips together as I stop in the middle of the hallway. “You would let me take care of you -- and not just in the bedroom, either. Please, Savin -- let me prove myself to you.”
I narrow my eyes at him and wrench my arm out from under his grip. “What’re you up to?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low as people continue to walk past us. I can feel their eyes on us, and I can feel the tension building in my shoulders as they look between me and Mitchel and back again. “Last time you did something like this, Resistance assassins were in the Council Room --”
“Savin,” Mitchel snaps. He runs his fingers through his hair -- something I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do unless he was hurt. “That was months ago, and I protected you. I warned you about the Resistance.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, and he moves closer to me. Instinctively, I take a step back. The way his shoulders slump and his eyes grow wide when I do, I feel my stomach sink to the floor. Mitchel then sighs and shakes his head, turning sharply on his heel. “We’re going to be late,” he murmurs, his fingers reaching for the knot of his tie as he moves forward. “We can discuss this at a later time.”
“Mitchel --”
“The matter’s already been decided, Bates,” he says, his voice holding a sharp edge to it. “Despite your words to the contrary, it’s obvious that you still don’t trust me.”
“I -- of course I trust you, it’s just -- last time --”
“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything different,” Mitchel says, completely ignoring what I’m trying to say. We’re at the council room doors, now, when he finally turns to glare at me over his shoulder. “I killed your husband, and today is your wedding anniversary with him. I almost lead you into a trap months ago -- a trap which I foiled, in order to protect you. I understand that you don’t trust me, and I even understand how you might even believe that you do, but your reaction just now -- it proves otherwise.”
He places his hand on the door, twisting the handle. “Mitchel, wait,” I murmur, placing my hand on top of his. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, leaning in to brush my lips against his. “I do trust you, it’s just -- old habits die hard, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t attend the meeting today, after all. I’m clearly not in the right headspace to make any important decisions, right now.”
Mitchel’s hand falls away from the handle, and he nods his head. “Alright. Does that mean I can no longer attend the meeting?”
I hand him the folder I’m carrying, offering him a small smile. “I trust you to do what you think is best -- just fill me in on everything when you come home.”
Mitchel’s deft fingers pluck the folder from my own, and he smirks at me. “Will do, Emperor,” he murmurs. He then pulls me close, kissing me deeply, for a moment. “Get some rest. Jasper would want you to.”
I nod, turn on my heel, and walk away from the council room doors. While my heart still feels heavy, at least I know I can have a couple of hours to think.
Maybe I should go visit Jazz’s grave.