Sam (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dame_grise) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_lounge2008-10-31 01:47 pm
dame_grise) wrote in damned_lounge2008-10-31 01:47 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Spice
Author: Sam (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dame_grise )
Beta: Callie
Word Count: 3748
Rating: adult (for fluffy smut)
Characters: Armand St Just, TK-622, Citan Uzuki and mention of Bridget.
Pairing(s): Armand/TK
Summary: After months of UST and an attack from an unexpected source, Armand and TK well... you know. (I was told there were messed up characters. I replaced what I could, but since I can't see them at all, it's tricky.)
They returned from Doyleton on a glorious spring evening. Armand managed to keep to himself during the ride back, watching the trees slip by, sometimes craning his head up to see the sky, such a delicate blue, like Marguerite's eyes. On some of the tighter curves he felt he could reach out and touch the filmy green branches. Armand adored spring, growing things, flowers and blossoms, but he was tired, tired enough to be distracted.
He caught himself staring too many times even on the ride, when all he could see was a profile near the the front of the bus, to dismiss his worry. One didn't look at one's friends that way, especially if they were tall, dusky-skinned soldiers from the far future. TK was his friend, a dear friend who'd save his life so many times he lost count. Being around TK made him feel safe, and there was where the danger lay. It was spring now. Armand had been trapped at Landel's Institute since late summer or early fall, he was certain. Too much time had gone by.
He remembered the leaves turning.
He also remembered spending a breathless few hours throwing and dodging snowballs with TK and Bridget. The snow was freshly fallen, the sky clearer and sharper than today. The young boy had kept the contest light, though of the three of them, only the big soldier hadn't been shivering when they'd been sent back inside to eat by the bewildered and amused nurses.
Even his hair and sweater had been soaked through by the melting snow. Both his friends had worried for him. Bridget offered Roger to him to cuddle while he ate, and TK removed his heavy gray sweater to let Armand borrow it through the meal. The damp wool, layered over his own sweater, smelled of lanolin and soap and a subtle undercurrent of something spicy--cinnamon or ginger or perhaps cloves He could smell it above the tang of the chili in his tray, and it made his mouth water. Suddenly, he realized it had awakened another kind of hunger as well. He fled the table and begged the nurse to let him go back to his room to lie down. He forgot to return the sweater. TK never asked for it either. Even now, he knew it was folded under his pillow so he could clutch it, releasing its comforting scent during the limited time he was allowed to rest in his bed.
Today--oh God today--they'd spent the entire day together. Armand searched the little book store for some history to read to his friend. When he couldn't find any, he'd recited the Year One Constitution from memory, and they'd carried their argument about its content to the closest restaurant. Armand couldn't even remember what he ate, because he spent the entire time watching TK, his face, his eyes, his hands, even his lips as he chewed and swallowed. He counted his blessings that if he didn't point out his own discomfort, TK didn't seem to notice. Naivety had its uses, but sometimes it was so frustrating.
In the end, that's what it was, simple frustration compounded by profound loneliness, the kind that talking with a friend could do nothing to relieve. He had no idea how the attraction was even born. Armand had a wife in the England of his own time, and had previously only ever loved women. The ill-fated Angele St. Cyr came to mind, and then his Jeanne. But time after time, they'd been together, through nightly dangers, through daily conundrums. TK was a shade too earnest for his own good, surpassing even Armand's ingenuousness in some situations. When it came to fighting, TK and Citan Uzuki were the most amazing fighters Armand had ever seen. Before them, he'd been impressed with Percy and the rest of the League, but the English lords had nothing on the skill and beauty of Armand's new comrades in arms.
Citan defined grace. Even against Percy, the soft-spoken doctor would prevail. He moved too fast too see, and noiselessly except for the few words that punctuated the blows. Were they meant to be some kind of magic spell? Armand would put no bets on his own brother-in-law if he ever met Citan in combat. Yet, the man puzzled Armand. Well, so did Percy, so perhaps it was his poor intellect rather than their curiosity. Incredibly smart people intimidated the young Frenchman, especially since their prowess overshadowed his meager powers of reasoning. He was observant. He had a decent memory. He tried his best. He could do no more than that, in even the most dire situation.
In combat, TK had no business being as graceful as the slender doctor, but he was. Perhaps he wouldn't think so. Armand smiled to himself to think he finally knew someone more self-deprecating than he was. The soldier moved fast, muscles sliding under the thin knit jersey of his asylum uniform--Armand imagined how it would feel under his hands, and blushed. He glanced nervously around the bus to see if anyone noticed.
By now, he was holding his own in combat. He had a sword, even if he wasn't the most graceful of fighters. He was useful, but he still felt incredibly outmatched by the skills his friends demonstrated on a nightly basis. And he worried. This overwhelming attraction to his friend tainted his joy in being a good partner at night and a faithful friend. His friendship with young Bridget had none of this baggage. Armand sighed, and rested his cheek against the glass. Tonight was another night. He only had to get through it one moment at a time.
The dark hallways seemed very crowded tonight. Armand waited in the usual spot as patiently as he could. His unsheathed sword rested across his knees, and he passed the time counting how many times TK had smiled at him during the past week. Eventually a familiar step sounded from the darkness and the big man's shadowed form stood over him. In one hand he carried a flashlight. He had a pair of heavy cudgels tucked into the band of his trousers. Armand swallowed, grateful for the dim light, and smiled up at him. “Have you see Dr. Uzuki yet, Morrison?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“I didn't,” TK answered. He scanned the hallway with narrowed eyes. “Have you been waiting long?” He offered a large hand.
“Long enough,” Armand admitted, taking the hand. He let go too quickly and stumbled slightly, since his buttocks and thighs were slightly numb. “It feels odd tonight. Do you know if any prisoners were taken to be brainwashed tonight?” In his preoccupation lately, he'd lost track of which night this was. Was it brainwashing or hideous experiments night? Standing so close, he could feel heat radiating from TK's body.
“Let's give him a few minutes. Since we went to the town, we didn't properly coordinate our meeting.”
Armand nodded, content to wait. He didn't dare babble right now. He didn't want to be overheard by the other prisoners. Eventually, even TK's restlessness became evident. He didn't pace--he was far too disciplined for that--but he stood and flexed his shoulders as if stretching them.
“Let's go,” he finally said. “We need to see how far we can get outside the walls tonight. If we're lucky we won't need Doc.” Their plan had been to travel as much in a straight line as possible in any direction except toward Doyleton and see how far they could get. Armand had a stake, decorated with paint stolen from the Arts and Crafts room, to mark their progress.
When it came to directing their movements, Armand usually took no initiative and let the other two make the plans. When asked he offered his opinions, but he didn't try to influence them too much. It was on his explanation that they'd abandoned searching the basement. But when they were moving around, he tended to take the point position. In some ways it didn't make sense, but in his mind, his vulnerability drew the monsters out into the open, and if they tried to attack him, the others could both see and be quick to respond. He wasn't helpless anymore, but he didn't mind being bait. Usually, he could still easily dodge out of the way if he needed. Carrying a sword didn't slow him down that much. He wasn't a big man.
So once it was clear where they were going, Armand hurried ahead. He knew TK would keep up or say something if he couldn't. With a destination in mind, it was easier for Armand to put the other prisoners out of his mind. They were all in the same trouble. The entry hall was too quiet, though Armand dared to hope that meant it was experiment night. If they ran into anything those nights, it was more likely to be a standard monster, as horrifying as those were at least they weren't fellow prisoners that he didn't want to hurt when he was defending himself against their attacks. His hand was on the door when he heard the rustle of a high wind and the howl of a wolf on the other side. Something, perhaps the size of a body, thudded against the outside wall. Armand drew his hand back, and turned questioningly to TK.
“Go ahead,” he said, “delaying won't make what we see any better.” In a situation like this, where he was technically in charge, TK could seem almost cold in his businesslike approach to accomplishing a mission, even a self-determined one. Despite the other man's demeanor, Armand trusted his judgment, so nodding and biting his lip, he opened the door and stepped through, leaving plenty of room for TK to follow.
The moon overhead shone down, lighting the corners where an eerie mist seemed to cling to the outer walls. Head down because he felt so exposed, Armand hurried toward the front gate. He knew someone or something was out here, and didn't want to meet them. He didn't even look around for who might have been hurt previously. So much had changed these last months. When had he grown so cold-hearted? He glanced back over his shoulder to see where his friend was. He saw the surprise spread across the other man's face before he looked to see what caused it.
Dr. Citan Uzuki, dressed in a flowing green robe with an improbably long pink and violet sash, red ribbons bound his hair back, and his hand he wielded an impressive sword. Well, at least he didn't look angry. He looked sad.
“What are the two of you doing out of bed this evening?” he asked.
“We were going to meet you,” Armand answered as he stepped back toward TK. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sword. Citan with a sword? He looked very comfortable holding it.
“When you didn't show up,” TK added, “Armand was worried.”
“That's a pity. I was called to work to protect you. Now if you'll just go back to your rooms like good boys, no one will get hurt. I wouldn't want to hurt such good friends.”
Even though he had a sword in his own hand, Armand swallowed down a squeak of terror at the gentle chiding tone in his friend's voice. Even if Citan were unarmed, he could easily knock Armand into the dust. TK handed the light to Armand and brought out his cudgels. “Stay back, Armand. I won't let him hurt you.”
“No, don't,” Armand began, but it was too late. In an instant, Citan flew into the air slashing his sword down at TK. He swept one cudgel away and forced the soldier back toward Armand. Armand put the light in his pocket and braced himself with his own sword in both hands. He didn't think TK was going to be able to do this one on his own. With a roar, TK swung his remaining cudgel toward Citan's arm, striking to numb it and force Citan to drop his sword.
Citan blocked the blow, dropping back a few steps, then he slashed viciously several times at TK, ice crystals forming where his blade touched. TK fell back, unbalanced, and Armand rushed forward to distract Citan while the soldier got his bearings again. The doctor's eyes were cold now--he didn't seem to see his current opponents as his friends. Armand charged at him, his sword raised for a slow but heavy overhand attack, only to be met with a charge of Citan's own. Armand saw only sparkles and lights, not the blow that knocked him onto his back. Then Citan jumped at him, only turning his powerful swing at the last moment to hit Armand's head with the hilt of the sword instead of the blade.
Waking up was confusing. He was warm again, delightfully so, but his head hurt dreadfully and--Armand squeaked and pulled free of the arms around his stomach. His head was filled with TK's clean, spicy aroma. He nearly fell onto the floor since they were bundled into the blankets as well. Bare feet on the floor, Armand whirled, his vision almost blacking out in a wave of nausea, to see TK, still half-wrapped in the sheets. The soldier, fully awake now even if he hadn't been a moment before, seemed almost gray with fatigue and possibly pain. The room was still dark. Armand swallowed and turned away.
“What happened?” he asked shakily. Despite his own pain and disorientation, his body was reacting to the scent and the nearness of the other man. Armand desperately wanted to hide his reaction.
“After he knocked you out, the Doc let me take you away. That was pretty stupid of you, you know.”
“I-I couldn't let him hurt you anymore.” Then remembering the ice crystals and how oddly powerful Citan had seemed, Armand turned again to examine his friend. “Did he hurt you?” He bit his tongue.
“I'm fine. I have a few cuts, that's all. And I'm cold. I never feel cold.” TK shrugged. “You shouldn't be standing like that. You have a bump on your head the size of an asteroid. I'm surprised you haven't fallen over.”
So was Armand. The room swirled around him sickeningly. The only steady thing seemed to be TK in his bed. “I can't stay here,” he mumbled.
“Well, we're here until they send up back to our own rooms. Lie down, you little idiot.”
Armand nodded. He was only now realizing that most, though not all of his clothing had been removed, probably because the many layers of wool were confining. His coat and waistcoat and cravat lay piled on the nearest desk chair, his boots and sword leaned against the chair. “Thank you for saving me.” Despite the nod, he didn't step toward the bed.
TK had to get up to get him. The patient uniforms weren't as restrictive as Armand's native clothes, so the soldier was still fully dressed, but his shoulders strained the shirt and suddenly the thin layer of knit cotton seemed far too inadequate. Armand blushed. His own shirt hung loose, but his trousers were unbearably tight at the moment.
“We've got clothes on! Don't be more stupid. You're like a recruit after his first battle.”
His hand felt small in TK's, but despite the other man saying that he felt cold, it was so warm. He followed him back to the bed. Of course, TK meant nothing but for them to be warm and comfortable until the end of the night. The room swayed again so Armand was too dizzy to argue when TK lifted him into the bed.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I think Dr. Uzuki rattled my brains.”
“I wouldn't be surprised.” The frank amusement in his voice comforted Armand. “He could have killed you, but I guess the brainwashing doesn't allow it.” He settled Armand into the bed and climbed in behind them. This time Armand was between him and the wall. The bed was far too narrow for two, but Armand wasn't a bulky person. He relaxed as much as he could while keeping curled just enough to keep his arousal a secret. TK's heat against his back could lull Armand back into sleep quite easily if it weren't for the way his thoughts were circling.
The one arm reached around Armand's stomach again, pulling the smaller man close. Soft, warm fingers gently prodded the lump under Armand's hair. He winced and more lights flashed behind his closed eyelids. “I don't think you should sleep, but we ought to rest.” Armand nodded in response, not trusting his voice.
He snuggled back against the warmth and met a surprise. Puzzled but suddenly hopeful, Armand turned in TK's embrace to face the bigger man. “Morrison, do you want me to kiss you again?” he asked, his voice shaking as he searched TK's face for a reaction. He'd found he never could accurately read TK's expressions, especially his dark eyes, even though they were easy to get lost in. What went on in his head? He was honest and earnest and believed very firmly in his ideals, just the sort of qualities that Armand could admire. Armand's own expressions were usually wholly readable to others, even naïve people like TK. To punctuate his question, Armand reached up and put his hand on TK's cheek.
TK didn't answer, but neither did his face crumple into confusion or anger. Taking that as consent, Armand leaned up and pressed his lips against the other man's. He meant to keep it short and soft, like the kiss they'd exchanged in the cafeteria that once so long ago. He couldn't though. Just that simple contact overwhelmed Armand with desire. Before he knew it, he licked TK's lips asking for them to part and admit his tongue. Both his hands gripped TK's shoulders tight enough it might hurt someone frailer. When TK met him tongue to tongue, the only hesitation coming for uncertainty and inexperience, Armand couldn't hold back a moan of desire.
He broke free and stared, panting a little with lust and lack of air. TK's skin around his face and neck had deepened in hue with a blush, hopefully of desire and not embarrassment. Armand kept his gaze locked with TK's dark eyes and lifted the knit shirt over the man's head. He had to stretch, but then he slipped his own off as well. Nearly blind to all else, he fell into kissing the man again. His lips, his tongue, his neck... although he didn't start anything new, nothing Armand did was met with resistance. He was afraid to stop and ask, for fear the embarrassment would stop them both.
Instead of asking, he said, “I fear I've wanted you for months.” When it came to men loving men, Armand was lacking in practical experience as TK, but he knew basically what was done. If it weren't for the needs flooding through his entire body now, from his groin to his heart to his throat, he'd be content with kissing, happy that his advance wasn't scorned. But then there'd be tomorrow, and the shame piled on top of what they both seemed to feel naturally right now. He leaned close, pressing his chest against TK and whispered into his ear, “If I show you how, can you make love to me?” His face glowed with chagrin at his temerity. He buried nose against TK's neck, letting his frantically thudding heart and more than obvious by this point erection speak for his emotions. TK pulled back a bit, tearing a desperate mew from Armand, who was afraid he was withdrawing.
Large hands cradled Armand's face, and TK kissed him back, slow and deliberate and unhurried. Armand curled his toes and clung in delight. “Show me,” TK rumbled, his voice deeper still with arousal. Still trying to keep as much skin in contact as possible, Armand sat up, trying to draw TK upright with him. He wriggled and unbuttoned his trousers, kicking them off awkwardly and shoving them to edge of the bed to fall to the floor. He then tugged at TK's knit trousers. TK rose to his knees on the mattress and helped. Finally, the both were naked and apparently no longer feeling the chill. Armand avoided looking at scars and injuries--they both carried more than their share, pain and memories writ upon their bodies. Instead, he gloried in the dusky glow of TK's skin and the proud swell of his penis. He was allowed to touch, and he did.
If he was shy at first himself, he had to remember he'd never done this either. He'd never touched a man in lust before, never explored another man with his hands and then his mouth. Little details delighted him, such as how the ruddy blush extended all the way down TK's torso. His touches soon gave way to enthusiastic sucking and nibbling. When he glanced up through his eyelashes, his mouth still full, Armand saw TK's teeth grit with the effort of holding back, though now he could see the attraction, especially in the way TK flung his head back against the wall behind his back. Armand crawled into his lap, straining to straddle his legs around TK's wider hips. He threw his arms around his shoulders and kissed him again, grinning against his lips. Then praying he wanted this enough, Armand sat back and guided TK into him.
The pain caused a cold sweat, and Armand again simply clung to his lover, almost breathless. When the pain eased, he moved slowly, locking eyes with TK to show he wanted this and see that he was wanted. That was enough.
Afterwards, he didn't want to lose any of this feeling, so he resisted sleep as he curled against TK's broad chest. Finally, the feeling of wanting to cry for joy faded. He felt loose, relaxed and just a little bit lazy. He kissed TK's collarbone. “Will you still want to see me in the morning?” he asked, still nervous enough to want to test.
“I wasn't planning on going blind before morning,” TK answered and pulled him closer.
Author: Sam (
dame_grise )Beta: Callie
Word Count: 3748
Rating: adult (for fluffy smut)
Characters: Armand St Just, TK-622, Citan Uzuki and mention of Bridget.
Pairing(s): Armand/TK
Summary: After months of UST and an attack from an unexpected source, Armand and TK well... you know. (I was told there were messed up characters. I replaced what I could, but since I can't see them at all, it's tricky.)
They returned from Doyleton on a glorious spring evening. Armand managed to keep to himself during the ride back, watching the trees slip by, sometimes craning his head up to see the sky, such a delicate blue, like Marguerite's eyes. On some of the tighter curves he felt he could reach out and touch the filmy green branches. Armand adored spring, growing things, flowers and blossoms, but he was tired, tired enough to be distracted.
He caught himself staring too many times even on the ride, when all he could see was a profile near the the front of the bus, to dismiss his worry. One didn't look at one's friends that way, especially if they were tall, dusky-skinned soldiers from the far future. TK was his friend, a dear friend who'd save his life so many times he lost count. Being around TK made him feel safe, and there was where the danger lay. It was spring now. Armand had been trapped at Landel's Institute since late summer or early fall, he was certain. Too much time had gone by.
He remembered the leaves turning.
He also remembered spending a breathless few hours throwing and dodging snowballs with TK and Bridget. The snow was freshly fallen, the sky clearer and sharper than today. The young boy had kept the contest light, though of the three of them, only the big soldier hadn't been shivering when they'd been sent back inside to eat by the bewildered and amused nurses.
Even his hair and sweater had been soaked through by the melting snow. Both his friends had worried for him. Bridget offered Roger to him to cuddle while he ate, and TK removed his heavy gray sweater to let Armand borrow it through the meal. The damp wool, layered over his own sweater, smelled of lanolin and soap and a subtle undercurrent of something spicy--cinnamon or ginger or perhaps cloves He could smell it above the tang of the chili in his tray, and it made his mouth water. Suddenly, he realized it had awakened another kind of hunger as well. He fled the table and begged the nurse to let him go back to his room to lie down. He forgot to return the sweater. TK never asked for it either. Even now, he knew it was folded under his pillow so he could clutch it, releasing its comforting scent during the limited time he was allowed to rest in his bed.
Today--oh God today--they'd spent the entire day together. Armand searched the little book store for some history to read to his friend. When he couldn't find any, he'd recited the Year One Constitution from memory, and they'd carried their argument about its content to the closest restaurant. Armand couldn't even remember what he ate, because he spent the entire time watching TK, his face, his eyes, his hands, even his lips as he chewed and swallowed. He counted his blessings that if he didn't point out his own discomfort, TK didn't seem to notice. Naivety had its uses, but sometimes it was so frustrating.
In the end, that's what it was, simple frustration compounded by profound loneliness, the kind that talking with a friend could do nothing to relieve. He had no idea how the attraction was even born. Armand had a wife in the England of his own time, and had previously only ever loved women. The ill-fated Angele St. Cyr came to mind, and then his Jeanne. But time after time, they'd been together, through nightly dangers, through daily conundrums. TK was a shade too earnest for his own good, surpassing even Armand's ingenuousness in some situations. When it came to fighting, TK and Citan Uzuki were the most amazing fighters Armand had ever seen. Before them, he'd been impressed with Percy and the rest of the League, but the English lords had nothing on the skill and beauty of Armand's new comrades in arms.
Citan defined grace. Even against Percy, the soft-spoken doctor would prevail. He moved too fast too see, and noiselessly except for the few words that punctuated the blows. Were they meant to be some kind of magic spell? Armand would put no bets on his own brother-in-law if he ever met Citan in combat. Yet, the man puzzled Armand. Well, so did Percy, so perhaps it was his poor intellect rather than their curiosity. Incredibly smart people intimidated the young Frenchman, especially since their prowess overshadowed his meager powers of reasoning. He was observant. He had a decent memory. He tried his best. He could do no more than that, in even the most dire situation.
In combat, TK had no business being as graceful as the slender doctor, but he was. Perhaps he wouldn't think so. Armand smiled to himself to think he finally knew someone more self-deprecating than he was. The soldier moved fast, muscles sliding under the thin knit jersey of his asylum uniform--Armand imagined how it would feel under his hands, and blushed. He glanced nervously around the bus to see if anyone noticed.
By now, he was holding his own in combat. He had a sword, even if he wasn't the most graceful of fighters. He was useful, but he still felt incredibly outmatched by the skills his friends demonstrated on a nightly basis. And he worried. This overwhelming attraction to his friend tainted his joy in being a good partner at night and a faithful friend. His friendship with young Bridget had none of this baggage. Armand sighed, and rested his cheek against the glass. Tonight was another night. He only had to get through it one moment at a time.
The dark hallways seemed very crowded tonight. Armand waited in the usual spot as patiently as he could. His unsheathed sword rested across his knees, and he passed the time counting how many times TK had smiled at him during the past week. Eventually a familiar step sounded from the darkness and the big man's shadowed form stood over him. In one hand he carried a flashlight. He had a pair of heavy cudgels tucked into the band of his trousers. Armand swallowed, grateful for the dim light, and smiled up at him. “Have you see Dr. Uzuki yet, Morrison?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“I didn't,” TK answered. He scanned the hallway with narrowed eyes. “Have you been waiting long?” He offered a large hand.
“Long enough,” Armand admitted, taking the hand. He let go too quickly and stumbled slightly, since his buttocks and thighs were slightly numb. “It feels odd tonight. Do you know if any prisoners were taken to be brainwashed tonight?” In his preoccupation lately, he'd lost track of which night this was. Was it brainwashing or hideous experiments night? Standing so close, he could feel heat radiating from TK's body.
“Let's give him a few minutes. Since we went to the town, we didn't properly coordinate our meeting.”
Armand nodded, content to wait. He didn't dare babble right now. He didn't want to be overheard by the other prisoners. Eventually, even TK's restlessness became evident. He didn't pace--he was far too disciplined for that--but he stood and flexed his shoulders as if stretching them.
“Let's go,” he finally said. “We need to see how far we can get outside the walls tonight. If we're lucky we won't need Doc.” Their plan had been to travel as much in a straight line as possible in any direction except toward Doyleton and see how far they could get. Armand had a stake, decorated with paint stolen from the Arts and Crafts room, to mark their progress.
When it came to directing their movements, Armand usually took no initiative and let the other two make the plans. When asked he offered his opinions, but he didn't try to influence them too much. It was on his explanation that they'd abandoned searching the basement. But when they were moving around, he tended to take the point position. In some ways it didn't make sense, but in his mind, his vulnerability drew the monsters out into the open, and if they tried to attack him, the others could both see and be quick to respond. He wasn't helpless anymore, but he didn't mind being bait. Usually, he could still easily dodge out of the way if he needed. Carrying a sword didn't slow him down that much. He wasn't a big man.
So once it was clear where they were going, Armand hurried ahead. He knew TK would keep up or say something if he couldn't. With a destination in mind, it was easier for Armand to put the other prisoners out of his mind. They were all in the same trouble. The entry hall was too quiet, though Armand dared to hope that meant it was experiment night. If they ran into anything those nights, it was more likely to be a standard monster, as horrifying as those were at least they weren't fellow prisoners that he didn't want to hurt when he was defending himself against their attacks. His hand was on the door when he heard the rustle of a high wind and the howl of a wolf on the other side. Something, perhaps the size of a body, thudded against the outside wall. Armand drew his hand back, and turned questioningly to TK.
“Go ahead,” he said, “delaying won't make what we see any better.” In a situation like this, where he was technically in charge, TK could seem almost cold in his businesslike approach to accomplishing a mission, even a self-determined one. Despite the other man's demeanor, Armand trusted his judgment, so nodding and biting his lip, he opened the door and stepped through, leaving plenty of room for TK to follow.
The moon overhead shone down, lighting the corners where an eerie mist seemed to cling to the outer walls. Head down because he felt so exposed, Armand hurried toward the front gate. He knew someone or something was out here, and didn't want to meet them. He didn't even look around for who might have been hurt previously. So much had changed these last months. When had he grown so cold-hearted? He glanced back over his shoulder to see where his friend was. He saw the surprise spread across the other man's face before he looked to see what caused it.
Dr. Citan Uzuki, dressed in a flowing green robe with an improbably long pink and violet sash, red ribbons bound his hair back, and his hand he wielded an impressive sword. Well, at least he didn't look angry. He looked sad.
“What are the two of you doing out of bed this evening?” he asked.
“We were going to meet you,” Armand answered as he stepped back toward TK. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sword. Citan with a sword? He looked very comfortable holding it.
“When you didn't show up,” TK added, “Armand was worried.”
“That's a pity. I was called to work to protect you. Now if you'll just go back to your rooms like good boys, no one will get hurt. I wouldn't want to hurt such good friends.”
Even though he had a sword in his own hand, Armand swallowed down a squeak of terror at the gentle chiding tone in his friend's voice. Even if Citan were unarmed, he could easily knock Armand into the dust. TK handed the light to Armand and brought out his cudgels. “Stay back, Armand. I won't let him hurt you.”
“No, don't,” Armand began, but it was too late. In an instant, Citan flew into the air slashing his sword down at TK. He swept one cudgel away and forced the soldier back toward Armand. Armand put the light in his pocket and braced himself with his own sword in both hands. He didn't think TK was going to be able to do this one on his own. With a roar, TK swung his remaining cudgel toward Citan's arm, striking to numb it and force Citan to drop his sword.
Citan blocked the blow, dropping back a few steps, then he slashed viciously several times at TK, ice crystals forming where his blade touched. TK fell back, unbalanced, and Armand rushed forward to distract Citan while the soldier got his bearings again. The doctor's eyes were cold now--he didn't seem to see his current opponents as his friends. Armand charged at him, his sword raised for a slow but heavy overhand attack, only to be met with a charge of Citan's own. Armand saw only sparkles and lights, not the blow that knocked him onto his back. Then Citan jumped at him, only turning his powerful swing at the last moment to hit Armand's head with the hilt of the sword instead of the blade.
Waking up was confusing. He was warm again, delightfully so, but his head hurt dreadfully and--Armand squeaked and pulled free of the arms around his stomach. His head was filled with TK's clean, spicy aroma. He nearly fell onto the floor since they were bundled into the blankets as well. Bare feet on the floor, Armand whirled, his vision almost blacking out in a wave of nausea, to see TK, still half-wrapped in the sheets. The soldier, fully awake now even if he hadn't been a moment before, seemed almost gray with fatigue and possibly pain. The room was still dark. Armand swallowed and turned away.
“What happened?” he asked shakily. Despite his own pain and disorientation, his body was reacting to the scent and the nearness of the other man. Armand desperately wanted to hide his reaction.
“After he knocked you out, the Doc let me take you away. That was pretty stupid of you, you know.”
“I-I couldn't let him hurt you anymore.” Then remembering the ice crystals and how oddly powerful Citan had seemed, Armand turned again to examine his friend. “Did he hurt you?” He bit his tongue.
“I'm fine. I have a few cuts, that's all. And I'm cold. I never feel cold.” TK shrugged. “You shouldn't be standing like that. You have a bump on your head the size of an asteroid. I'm surprised you haven't fallen over.”
So was Armand. The room swirled around him sickeningly. The only steady thing seemed to be TK in his bed. “I can't stay here,” he mumbled.
“Well, we're here until they send up back to our own rooms. Lie down, you little idiot.”
Armand nodded. He was only now realizing that most, though not all of his clothing had been removed, probably because the many layers of wool were confining. His coat and waistcoat and cravat lay piled on the nearest desk chair, his boots and sword leaned against the chair. “Thank you for saving me.” Despite the nod, he didn't step toward the bed.
TK had to get up to get him. The patient uniforms weren't as restrictive as Armand's native clothes, so the soldier was still fully dressed, but his shoulders strained the shirt and suddenly the thin layer of knit cotton seemed far too inadequate. Armand blushed. His own shirt hung loose, but his trousers were unbearably tight at the moment.
“We've got clothes on! Don't be more stupid. You're like a recruit after his first battle.”
His hand felt small in TK's, but despite the other man saying that he felt cold, it was so warm. He followed him back to the bed. Of course, TK meant nothing but for them to be warm and comfortable until the end of the night. The room swayed again so Armand was too dizzy to argue when TK lifted him into the bed.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I think Dr. Uzuki rattled my brains.”
“I wouldn't be surprised.” The frank amusement in his voice comforted Armand. “He could have killed you, but I guess the brainwashing doesn't allow it.” He settled Armand into the bed and climbed in behind them. This time Armand was between him and the wall. The bed was far too narrow for two, but Armand wasn't a bulky person. He relaxed as much as he could while keeping curled just enough to keep his arousal a secret. TK's heat against his back could lull Armand back into sleep quite easily if it weren't for the way his thoughts were circling.
The one arm reached around Armand's stomach again, pulling the smaller man close. Soft, warm fingers gently prodded the lump under Armand's hair. He winced and more lights flashed behind his closed eyelids. “I don't think you should sleep, but we ought to rest.” Armand nodded in response, not trusting his voice.
He snuggled back against the warmth and met a surprise. Puzzled but suddenly hopeful, Armand turned in TK's embrace to face the bigger man. “Morrison, do you want me to kiss you again?” he asked, his voice shaking as he searched TK's face for a reaction. He'd found he never could accurately read TK's expressions, especially his dark eyes, even though they were easy to get lost in. What went on in his head? He was honest and earnest and believed very firmly in his ideals, just the sort of qualities that Armand could admire. Armand's own expressions were usually wholly readable to others, even naïve people like TK. To punctuate his question, Armand reached up and put his hand on TK's cheek.
TK didn't answer, but neither did his face crumple into confusion or anger. Taking that as consent, Armand leaned up and pressed his lips against the other man's. He meant to keep it short and soft, like the kiss they'd exchanged in the cafeteria that once so long ago. He couldn't though. Just that simple contact overwhelmed Armand with desire. Before he knew it, he licked TK's lips asking for them to part and admit his tongue. Both his hands gripped TK's shoulders tight enough it might hurt someone frailer. When TK met him tongue to tongue, the only hesitation coming for uncertainty and inexperience, Armand couldn't hold back a moan of desire.
He broke free and stared, panting a little with lust and lack of air. TK's skin around his face and neck had deepened in hue with a blush, hopefully of desire and not embarrassment. Armand kept his gaze locked with TK's dark eyes and lifted the knit shirt over the man's head. He had to stretch, but then he slipped his own off as well. Nearly blind to all else, he fell into kissing the man again. His lips, his tongue, his neck... although he didn't start anything new, nothing Armand did was met with resistance. He was afraid to stop and ask, for fear the embarrassment would stop them both.
Instead of asking, he said, “I fear I've wanted you for months.” When it came to men loving men, Armand was lacking in practical experience as TK, but he knew basically what was done. If it weren't for the needs flooding through his entire body now, from his groin to his heart to his throat, he'd be content with kissing, happy that his advance wasn't scorned. But then there'd be tomorrow, and the shame piled on top of what they both seemed to feel naturally right now. He leaned close, pressing his chest against TK and whispered into his ear, “If I show you how, can you make love to me?” His face glowed with chagrin at his temerity. He buried nose against TK's neck, letting his frantically thudding heart and more than obvious by this point erection speak for his emotions. TK pulled back a bit, tearing a desperate mew from Armand, who was afraid he was withdrawing.
Large hands cradled Armand's face, and TK kissed him back, slow and deliberate and unhurried. Armand curled his toes and clung in delight. “Show me,” TK rumbled, his voice deeper still with arousal. Still trying to keep as much skin in contact as possible, Armand sat up, trying to draw TK upright with him. He wriggled and unbuttoned his trousers, kicking them off awkwardly and shoving them to edge of the bed to fall to the floor. He then tugged at TK's knit trousers. TK rose to his knees on the mattress and helped. Finally, the both were naked and apparently no longer feeling the chill. Armand avoided looking at scars and injuries--they both carried more than their share, pain and memories writ upon their bodies. Instead, he gloried in the dusky glow of TK's skin and the proud swell of his penis. He was allowed to touch, and he did.
If he was shy at first himself, he had to remember he'd never done this either. He'd never touched a man in lust before, never explored another man with his hands and then his mouth. Little details delighted him, such as how the ruddy blush extended all the way down TK's torso. His touches soon gave way to enthusiastic sucking and nibbling. When he glanced up through his eyelashes, his mouth still full, Armand saw TK's teeth grit with the effort of holding back, though now he could see the attraction, especially in the way TK flung his head back against the wall behind his back. Armand crawled into his lap, straining to straddle his legs around TK's wider hips. He threw his arms around his shoulders and kissed him again, grinning against his lips. Then praying he wanted this enough, Armand sat back and guided TK into him.
The pain caused a cold sweat, and Armand again simply clung to his lover, almost breathless. When the pain eased, he moved slowly, locking eyes with TK to show he wanted this and see that he was wanted. That was enough.
Afterwards, he didn't want to lose any of this feeling, so he resisted sleep as he curled against TK's broad chest. Finally, the feeling of wanting to cry for joy faded. He felt loose, relaxed and just a little bit lazy. He kissed TK's collarbone. “Will you still want to see me in the morning?” he asked, still nervous enough to want to test.
“I wasn't planning on going blind before morning,” TK answered and pulled him closer.
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